It was a great house, situated on the far corner of a huge circle of four house terraces. In the middle was a grassy circle where all the kids played. Our house had a large garden, and at the bottom of it was a railway line for the train that carried huge wagons of coal from one pit to another two miles away.
Mum wanted to decorate the living room with some nice flowery wallpaper. I was with my mum when we went to Stirling to pick the wallpaper. Although only two miles away it was the first time I remember going to Stirling. I was mesmerised with all the big shops after being used to the little shops we had at the blocks. The co-op stores, Marshal’s Grocery shop across from Third Block, the little corner sweet shop on the corner of Second Block, and of course how can I ever forget Toni Tortolano’s across from our school, he sold ice cream and lollies he made himself, which were to die for. Not to forget the couple of others that had cropped up since moving to what we in the Blocks then called The Crescent. When mum came home with the wallpaper my dad cringed, because he had never papered in his life, neither had my mum come to think. The paper was not like the wallpaper you get today. It had edges that you had to cut off, and mum never trusted us to cut them in case we went over the line leaving the paper to either overlap or the edges not touch when hanging.
I loved this house, especially the railway line at the bottom of our garden. It led to many of our new adventure places. One was the Hollow; a burn that ran under the railway bridge. It was a popular place for us kids to play. We had many an adventure there. It was a great place for catching stickleback fish. Sometimes we would climb up the inside of the bridge and sit on the large beams with our peashooter, that we made from a type of weed that had a hollow stem, and blow peas at other kids passing under. Or maybe we just played at jump the burn to see how wide we could jump. Nine times out of ten we’d fall in, which meant a good telling of from our mum, but it was always worthwhile and didn’t stop us going back.
Further, down the railway track was another stream we called the Bannock. It was wider than the Hollow and it flowed from Bannockburn to the River Forth, at the other side of our village. We used to swim in there when it was a nice day, unknown to our parents of course. One day me and my pal went there to play and found my big brother there as well, he was looking after my little brother who was not quite three years old, and of course there were lots of kids there too, all jumping in the shallow part of the stream and splashing about. I remember my little brother jumped in the deep part not realising the danger. He seemed to be under the water for a long time, and one of the older boys kept going under to find him but he surfaced lots of times without him. Of course I panicked and ran home to tell my mum as fast as I could. My mum franticly dropped what she was doing and ran. As we ran along the wooden railway sleepers every step she took, she was praying to God to bring him home safe to her. Listening to her made me scared, but as we got nearer we could see two figures coming towards us in the distance, as we got closer we could see the little figure had nearly white hair, so we knew it was my little brother clasping my older brother’s hand. He was absolutely scared out of his mind, and dripping wet carrying his shoes. My mum fell to her knees thanking God for bringing him back to her. I was also so relieved. As for my brother, as soon as we got closer to them he dropped my brother’s hand and ran, I think he got a fright as well and when he saw my mum crying it shocked him. You can guess what happened when he got home.
Mum came home stressed one night after visiting Gran. She claimed they were very low on coal and the coal man wasn’t due for another couple of weeks. Next day my dad came home with two bogie wheels from the pit to make a wheelbarrow. When it was finished it was like a huge thick wooden crate complete with the bogie wheels from the pit. It had long handles at each side to making it easier to pull rather than push. It looked great, but the main reason for the barrow was to take coal to Gran.
So when dad got his ton of coal from the pit, which all the miners got then he’d fill the barrow to the top with coal then walk five miles to Grans. My brother and I went with him, not that we could pull the heavy barrow full of coal, we went to keep dad company.
It took a long time, as we had to stop every now and then to let dad rest. I was so glad when we arrived: five miles for a seven year old was very tiring and boring. When we reached Grans, Auntie Barbara made us some tea and sandwiches then I rushed to uncle Fred’s house across the back garden to visit my cousin. After about an hour, my brother came to the bottom of the garden and shouted for me to come as it was time to make the journey back home. Dad asked if I wanted to get the bus home, but because my brother wanted to stay with dad; I did as well. The journey back home was a lot quicker with the empty wheelbarrow as dad didn’t need to rest as much. He also let my brother and me take turns sitting inside the barrow, which was great as it made the journey less tiring.
That same wheelbarrow gave me an idea one day to make some money. When mum was upstairs cleaning I sneaked the wheelbarrow out the gate to the front and used it as a bus charging the kids in our street a penny for giving them a ride around the circle. It was like one of these carts you get in China where the men used them as taxis. Although hard to pull it was a laugh, and the kids loved it, they giggled as they queued up for a ride. I must have walked around that circle about six times. It was great fun, but it didn’t last long.
The lad next door ran home to ask his mum for a penny to get a ride in the wheelbarrow. Of course she immediately went to our house to tell my mum, who came rushing out to the front gate to get me in.
‘Get that wheelbarrow round the back, and get in this house RIGHT NOW,’ she shouted.
I could tell she was furious, so the kids got out of the barrow and I wheeled it round the back of the house. As I sheepishly sneaked in the back door, mum stood waiting for me, ready to pounce with a slap for every word that came out of her mouth. I was sent to bed and wasn’t allowed to come downstairs until it was time for dinner. that to me was the worst part of my punishment. As I looked out of the bedroom window at all the other kids playing, I felt the whole world was against me. I indulged in self-pity for the rest of the day, after all I was only trying to earn a few pence, it wasn’t fair.
My dad made us a lot of things when we were young. He made us a sledge that was so long, it held the two of us. We had really good use of that sledge, if it wasn’t sliding down the Hollow Hill, where all the kids used to sledge down in the winter, it would be filled with snowballs ready for our fight with the Queen Street kids at the bottom of our road. It was great fun.
One day, my brother brought home some old pram wheels that someone had dumped at the tip. Dad made us a go-kart, which was great, it had a wooden orange box painted green, and a carpet fitted inside for us to sit on. It even had a break, and compared to other carts it was a luxury model.
Another thing that sticks in my mind was a little rocking cradle that he made for my big sister when she was two years old, it was passed down to me, then my little sister, then finally given to one of my little cousins. Nothing in the forties got wasted, because everything costs money and money was a scarcity then.
All good garments were handed down to whoever they’d fit, the not so good turned into dusters and cloths, woollen jumpers unfit to be handed down would either be recycled into mittens, hats or scarfs, what was left would be cut into strips for fireside rugs. The older generation could teach the young of today what real recycling was all about.
As the war days were getting further behind us, things were getting better and everything seemed to be more plentiful. Shops seemed to have a lot more of everything, and were sprouting up all over our village. Instead of walking down to the co-op across from the Blocks, mum started going in the bus to Stirling for her weekly groceries. She did her weekly shopping at a shop called Lipton, who also delivered them to your door in a little van. It gave her time to go shopping for our clothes and shoes, and anything else we needed. There weren’t as many patched elbows or, patches on the backside of boy’s
trousers any more, yes things were really looking up. I never received any more hand-me-downs from my cousins since mum started to shop in Stirling. Hand-me-down clothes still went on, but only to brothers and sisters, and as my sister was a lot older than me nothing came down from her. Mum used to say to me that by the time I was finished with them they were only fit for the ragman.
The ragman was a character never to forget. He travelled around the streets in an old cart shouting, ‘Any old rags?’ and if you took anything out to him, like an old jumper or cardigan he would give you either a stone for whitening the step, a goldfish or a balloon.
I remember my mum on wash day having the clothes in all different piles on the kitchen floor all separated into different piles white clothes, dark clothes, and woollens, all ready to wash, because then all the washing was done in the sink with a rubbing board; a wooden frame on two legs with rigged glass that was placed in the sink for the wet soapy clothes to be rubbed up and down. My little brother took the bundle of woollens out to the rag man and got a goldfish for them. As he walked in the door with the snot, tripping him, mum looked at the fish in his hand and looked puzzled.
‘Where did you get that fish?’ She asked, ‘I didn’t know the burns round here had gold fish in them.’
‘I got it off the ragman for them old jumpers you threw on the floor.’ my brother slurred.
I never saw my mum run so quickly out the door, luckily, she caught him before he had gone and reclaimed the jumpers. He got a good telling off.
We had quite a few vans that came around the streets in the forties and fifties. We had an ice cream van. Very rarely we got money for ice cream, but it didn’t stop us running to his van whenever we heard his music. Sometimes he would give us some broken wafers, maybe he felt sorry for us, or more likely he gave us them to get rid of us.
Toni Tortolano, an Italian man who had a shop across from our school also came round the village during the day with his ice cream van. Toni’s ice cream was fantastic, I have yet to find any that’s as good. At night Toni would come round the village with his chip van selling fish and chips. Even if you weren’t hungry, the smell of his fish and chips made you peckish.
If we were lucky we’d get three pence from dad for a bag of chips, and when they were finished the salt and the vinegar at the bottom was licked out leaving nothing but a ripped bag. I must admit everything Toni made stays with you forever.
Johnny McCullen, the vegetable man, came around the streets in a horse and cart selling fruit and vegetables he’d grown himself. If the horse done its business in the street, it was a race to collect the dung for the garden.
Once in a while we’d have an old man on a bike which he’d turn upside down, take the wheel off and attach a round stone in its place, then for a small fee turn the pedal and use it to sharpen peoples knives, etc. Women queued around him with knives, scissors and anything that needed sharpening. It was a good excuse to have a good natter with each other, and looking at the queue was like a scene out of a horror film. There was no end to people who used to go around the doors collecting money, like rent, insurance men, my mum would get a Provident cheque to go shopping for clothes for us, then a Provident man would call every week for the money. I was always hard on shoes and mum was fed up buying them for me. One day whilst playing on the swings I used my feet as brakes, and scuffed all the toes of my shoes. When mum saw them she went wild.
‘Look at the state o’ them shoes they look like a pair o’ kippers on your feet, and I’m still paying for them,’ she shouted. I didn’t understand then what she meant.
One-day mum looked out the window and saw the Provident man coming down the street she ran out the back door where I was playing in the back garden and told me she was going next door to Mrs Miller for a moment and if the Provident man called to tell him she wasn’t in and that I don’t know where she is. Whilst there in Mrs Millers house someone knocked at her door. When she opened the door it was the Provident man, when she invited him in, he saw mum.
‘Ah I’m glad you’re here Mrs Martin, I’ve just been to your house but your lassie said you were away to visit her grannie’
Mum had to pay him, she didn’t want the woman next door to think she couldn’t pay her way.
Nuns used to go round the doors collecting money in our village as well, even though nearly everyone was Protestant. When my little sister first saw a Nun she went hysterical.
One person that crept into our village was an old tramp by the name of Sophie Morie Where he came from, nobody knew, how he got his name, nobody knew that either. Every summer he’d appear out of the blue, and walk around the streets as if he was looking for something or someone. His long grey hair and long beard were both matted, and looked as if they had never seen a comb in his entire life. He wore a long filthy coat even in the hottest sun, his boots that was black at one time were now a grey colour, and the soles looked as if they were falling off. All us kids used to follow him all over the village like the Pied Piper, and every now and then he would turn round and give us a mouthful, it was like playing, what time is it Mr Wolf.
Our local pipe-band used to go around the village every now and then. They used to compete against other pipe-bands, and won a few cups and shields. When they won, they’d march around the village with all us kids marching behind them. It was a good achievement for the band, and great fun for the kids following them.
We always knew when mum didn’t have the money to pay for the rent; she made us hide whenever someone knocked at the door. I remember one day she had all the curtains off the windows washing them, when a knock came to the door she made us hide behind the couch, all of a sudden a knock came from the window, when we looked it was the rent man laughing at us. We laughed at that for years.
Every night mum was at the sink washing something or another. One in particular night she was washing our socks and smalls for school next day, a regular procedure. She was singing to herself when she heard a tap at the window. As she looked up, a man with a large white beard and a large white turban looking at her through the window.
‘You buy nice silk scarf missus?’ he shouted through the glass. Mum screamed with fright, causing my dad to run in to see what was wrong, when he saw the man at the window he rushed out the back door and was about to punch the man when mum ran after him shouting hysterically.
‘No John leave him, It’s the Indian man who goes around the doors selling things.’
‘What bloody things?’ dad shouted with his fist hovering in mid-air two inches off the man’s face.
‘He sells silk scarves and things, he hasn’t done anything wrong, I just got a fright, that’s all,’ mum pleaded holding dad’s arm back ‘For God’s sake John, leave the poor man alone, he’s only trying to earn a living.’
Now, I wouldn’t say the man turned white, but he was shaking like jelly on a plate. The Indian apologised to my mum for frightening her and, gave her a free silk scarf. To show that she was also sorry she bought a box of silk hankies from him. The head scarf she wore for years, the box of handkerchiefs were never used in fact, they lay in the drawer for years. To this day, I don’t know what happened to them.
According to mum, I was a greedy child, but I don’t know what gave her that idea. I never got any pocket money as a child, the only money I had, I earned myself by going errands, and different things.
That is except for the money I found one day, whilst my brother and I went looking for empty cigarette packets. Woodbine gave free football cards inside the packets then. My brother and I used to collect them and swap our doubles at school with other kids. It seemed to be the in thing at that time.
In the early fifties people were litter bugs, they’d throw their empty cigarette packets in the hedgerows or in the edge of fields, mind you in them days there were no bins down the streets as there is now.
I looked in a few packets and was very disappointed, it looked like the men who bought the cigs took out the cards for their kids. I was about to gi
ve up and go home when I got the shock of my life. Inside one of them I found a ten-pound note; it was like finding treasure. Before I knew it, I was like the Pied Piper surrounded with children following me. I must have treated all the kids in our street to sweets that day.
When my brother told mum about me finding the money and spending it on all the kids, she went absolutely wild. She marched outside onto the street where I was surrounded with kids and grabbed me. As she dragged me indoors I got the usual slap for slap with every word that left her mouth. Once inside I was given a good hiding followed by the usual lecture, I think she was more worried what the neighbours might think. Was that the end of the punishment? No, it certainly was not, Mum dragged me down to the local police station at the bottom of our road.
I can just remember the occasion as if it was yesterday. He was our local policeman and I had seen him many times on his bike, but mostly he walked around the village just talking to people. I can look back at the situation now and laugh, but back then I was so scared.
As we walked through the police station door the first thing that caught my eye was the counter. It was so high I could barely look over. A few chairs were in front of the large window where mum told me to sit down as she wanted a word with the policeman. As they talked I looked around the room. It looked scary, full of posters of things connected with crime. I tried to listen to what mum was saying but she seemed to be whispering. The longer I sat there the more the fear set in.
All of a sudden the counter lifted up and out he came. Suddenly he looked like a giant as he stood in front of me and stared into my eyes which, frightened me even more. He took out the book and pencil from his top pocket, opened it and started to write. All I could do was watch with fear in my eyes. After a few moments he looked at me.
Of Different Times Page 6