FRIDAY 28TH NOVEMBER

THIS WEEK’S QUOTATION

Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be. (Robert Browning)

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In October 1943 I began dental studies at the Anderson College of Medicine in Glasgow. For the first year there were only two subjects Chemistry and Physics - at school I had dropped Science after Third Year. I didn’t find the course interesting at all, and listening to lecturers reading from well-used scripts was a bit of a bore. Nevertheless I passed the exams without difficulty.

I enjoyed the next year more for that consisted of Anatomy and Physiology, and we made a start in the Dental Hospital lab. Some of the classes were held in St.Mungo’s College next to the Royal Infirmary, and I think it was there that we had to attend lectures where a dead body was dissected. Quite a few students fainted at the earlier sessions, but it wasn’t till a later occasion that I suddenly felt dizzy. I slipped out of the room and sat with my head between my knees till I recovered.

This was wartime of course and, like every other building, firewatchers were needed to alert the authorities should enemy action result in a fire. I took my turn at Anderson college and two of us had to stay overnight. We slept in a large dimly-lit room lined with shelves of glass jars containing all sorts of foetuses . A bit scary!

In the dental lab we were taught the work which is done by dental mechanics, and looking back it seems as if we spent most of the time queuing up at the office to get the materials we needed or to have our completed work passed as satisfactory. I found that, whereas at school the staff were genuinely interested in our progress, the very opposite was the case at the dental hospital.

I must mention that during my time there I did something bad. Contrary to regulations I made a set of dentures for my father!

Among the students I made a number of good friends, quite a few of whom, like me, gave up the struggle. One of them became a primary school teacher and for a while taught in Kirkintilloch.

And of course the time came when, armed with probes, drills, and shattered nerves, we were unleashed on the patients. Attired in white coats just like real dentists, we tried to convince the public and ourselves that we knew what we were doing.

And that was when I realised that this career was not for me!

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THE SMOKE SIGNAL by Frederic Remington 1861-1909. Born in New York he was a painter, sculptor, illustrator and a writer of both fiction and non-fiction



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Jean and I were married in 1954. Our first house was a 3-apartment in Loch Road, Kirkintilloch.

Ten minutes walk in the direction of Lenzie led to Woodilee Hospital, better known locally as “the asylum”. We found that quite a few of our friends from outwith the district had reservations about living so near to such an institution. Of course I had always been used to seeing patients out walking about the town and knew that the more serious cases were kept locked up.

One of the patients I knew quite well. He was a very good dulcimer player and appeared regularly as a solo artiste at local entertainments. He kept a little notebook in which he recorded every tune he could play and every one of his engagements since the 1920s. His big moment of fame came when he performed on a early STV show hosted by Bill Tennant. It was said that Peter could have been discharged from the hospital any time, but his family wouldn’t agree to “sign him out”.

Some of the patients just appeared to be eccentric. There was one man who seemed to be very wealthy for he wore an astonishing range of expensive suits, including complete highland dress and cowboy attire. I seem to remember that he used to visit the small shop near us and buy a large number of loaves to feed the birds, though I may be getting him confused with another patient.

Built in 1875 the Woodilee grew to be a very big place (in 1930 it had 1250 beds) with its own successful farm. I remember when the hospital staff used to hold an annual dance in the ballroom and there was always a tremendous rush by the general public to obtain tickets. I often played at functions there, and for a couple of years provided the music for the staff’s pantomime in the Town Hall.

As time went on there were big changes in mental health, with more and more patients able to live in the community. So the Woodilee gradually treated fewer people until it finally closed in 2001.

In its final years there were a number of wards for people with Alzheimer’s disease, and among them was my father. He had gradually become a problem at home for my mother (although she didn’t admit it for quite a while). That was certainly the best place for him. He always knew us when we visited and seemed to be quite content. He died there on 13th July 1982 aged 88.

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Thanks to Anne for sending me the following. I think it’s excellent.



One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.

“One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

“The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, “Which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed”.

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This music clip is of Sarah Chang playing “Cantabile” by Paganini. Born in Philadelphia, she was a child prodigy at ten years old and now is well-known internationally.



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Finally, here’s a photo of Binks, the little dog Rita and I had when we were teenagers. The canal bank was a favourite place for dog-walking, and Rita recalls the day when Binks fell into the canal. The bank was rather high at that place, and Rita had to lie down flat and reach down to rescue the dog.



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FRIDAY 21ST NOVEMBER

THIS WEEK’S QUOTE

To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent — that is to triumph over old age. (Thomas Bailey Aldrich)

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AND SO ANOTHER IMPORTANT ANNIVERSARY has come and gone - the signing of the Armistice ninety years ago at the end of the first World War. Although I wasn’t alive then - we called it the Great War, it seemed to be very much in people’s minds when I was small. I have a national newspaper which was issued on the day I was born, and it’s surprising that a fair amount of news in it either directly or indirectly concerned the war. My parents frequently referred to it in general conversation and my father often spoke of “when he was in the army”. As a very young child, I thought he had been in the Salvation Army for that was the only army I knew.

I particularly remember that, if I was given a toy that was “Made in Germany”, that was bad, but if it had been made in Britain that was good!

My father was among the many local men who volunteered as soon as war was declared, joining the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. He fought in France and a sniper’s bullet got him in the shoulder.

And that’s really all I know of his time in the army. I very much regret not having asked him for his full story, but, as so often happens, it’s only when old folk are gone, that we think of all the things we might have found out about their life.

I once asked my father what was the happiest time of his life, and his reply surprisingly was “my time in the army”.

This is a photo of him, probably taken in 1915, when he would be 22 years old.




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ON THE STREET WHERE WE LIVED

I was 10 years old when we moved to the semi-detached house in Northbank Avenue. The street we left was one of contrasts. Bisected halfway down by Oxford Street, the upper part where we lived consisted of well-kept tenements, 4 villas near us, a primary school, a church and 2 more private houses.

My pal Andrew lived in one of the bigger tenement houses across the road. He was one of a big family, and each time I called to ask if he was coming out to play his mother, having answered the door, would go off to fetch him. That was when his siblings one by one would peep out from the kitchen door to inspect me, each head appearing at a different level.

The lower part of the street, which stretched down to the main road, had a picture house, a bus garage, and a small hall which may have been used by British Legion members. Quite a few of the houses were of the room and kitchen type with outside toilets, and the families who occupied them seemed to have a large numbers of children. I was inside one of those houses only once, and that was when I was teenager. I had to deliver a message to a semi-professional musician who lived there with his wife and 3 or 4 children. Where they all slept I don’t know, but Bob’s double bass took up valuable space in the bedroom!!!
There were two “sweetie” shops, one of which was really the living room of a house. Another one was used by a shoe repairer for his shop. We children had a morbid interest in the fact that he had just one leg and got about on crutches. A member of the Salvation Army band, he taught his two sons the trumpet and when they grew up both were well-known locally as dance band musicians. The younger one for a while worked in London with some of the country’s top dance bands.

I must say a little bit more about our picture house. Of the two cinemas in the town, the one in our street was the least attractive. The films shown there were often unknown and the brightness of the screen seemed to dim every twenty minutes or so. Of course you must remember that in those days it took years for new films to come to a local picture house. However that didn’t stop many folk being enthusiastic cinema-goers, and, with each picture house changing their programme every two days, it was possible to see a different show six nights a week!!!

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This picture “Soap Bubbles” was by Elizabeth Gardner 1837-1922 who married the painter William Bouguereau


http://gardenofpraise.com/child8.htm

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DUGGAN’S DEW OF KIRKINTILLOCH



There used to be occasions when Americans visiting Kirkintilloch asked to be directed to the Duggan’s Dew distillery, and were disappointed to find that no such place existed.

In fact there was - and there still is - a popular whisky in America called “Duggan’s Dew”. The makers had taken the name from a series of short stories published in the Saturday Evening Post. Written by Guy Gilpatric 1896-1950, they featured Colin Glencannon, a ship’s engineer on a tramp steamer who with his dog Mary had come originally from Kirkintilloch. He was very fond of a drink, his preference being the whisky made in his home town, and there was always a mention of “Duggan’s Dew” in the stories. I believe a 39-episode series based on his adventures was produced for TV in the late 1950s but information about this is scarce.

The author himself had an adventurous life. An airman in the first World War, he became a stunt and test pilot, and took part in a number of films. In one film he had to crash a plane, but another “take” was needed, and he had to do it once more - with another plane, I presume. Incredible!

You can read one of the Glencannon short stories by accessing this site -

http://gaslight.mtroyal.ca/glencX02.htm

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Instead of a music clip this week I thought you'd like to see this video of a very young polar bear called Knut



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BLOGS GALORE

No one seems to know how many blogspots there are on the internet. Covering every possible subject and topic, it appears that this is something that's here to stay. In April 2005 it was estimated that there were 50.75 million worldwide.

I started my first blog Wise Men Say in February 2006 and the following month began the MyHaiku site which continued till last July. I very soon discovered that few people knew what a haiku was, and I've always been hoping that my efforts might create an interest.

I'm especially enthusiastic about my new HAIKU HOMESTEAD site, and would like to make a suggestion. Compose a haiku, send it to me and I'll publish it on HAIKU HOMESTEAD (anonymously, if you wish).

and finally -

this verse has three lines
and seventeen syllables -
is it a haiku?

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FRIDAY 14TH NOVEMBER

ANOTHER MILESTONE

Last Monday was my birthday and I posted these haiku on my new HAIKU HOMESTEAD site.

eighty-three today
from the shaving mirror
an old face looks out

closed circuit TV
that old chap looks familiar -
so he should, it’s ME!!!

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A BIRTHDAY CARD



This card was sent to me by the Sunday School and I see from the reverse side that our address was Burnbank Terrace, Lenzie. That was where I was born, but I think that by the time my second birthday came around we would have moved to the tenement in Kerr Street, Kirkintilloch.

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This photo is the earliest one I have. I’d love to know was in my mind as I stood there.



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The Christian Church didn’t always approve of observing birthdays and the rejection of celebrating them continued right down to the 4th Century. So many customs and traditions had their roots in paganism and that was the case with birthdays.

An article from the German magazine Schwabische Zeitung in April 1981 explains that the origins of celebrating birthdays “lie in the realm of magic and religion”. It continues - “The custom of offering congratulations, presenting gifts and celebrating, complete with lighted candles, in ancient times were meant to protect the birthday celebrant from the demons and to ensure his security for the coming year.”

Both the Romans and the Greeks believed that everyone had a spirit who attended the birth and watched over him or her for life, and birthday celebrations were partly in honour of that guardian angel or spirit. There was a special significance about sacrificial fire and lighted tapers, which explains why we have candles on our birthday cakes today.

Were birthday parties common in my childhood? I don’t think so, for I can’t remember us having any or going to any. The only children’s party I recall (apart from those held by the Sunday School) was one which our Aunt Frances had for her piano pupils, and all I can remember is that I refused to join in a kissing game and went in a huff.

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Here are photos taken at the beginning and end of my schooldays.

Primary 1 at Lairdsland School



I’m in the middle row, 4th from Left. (Notice the butterfly?)
In the back row 4th from left is Betty Hamilton whose aunt was married to my uncle George, the minister who became Secretary of the Baptist Union of Scotland. On the extreme right on that row is Walter Nisbet a 2nd cousin of mine. Standing next to me is Johnny Lang - we came in contact with each other very often through our music, he played trumpet and was associated with the Players Club.
In the front row 4th from the left is Archie Little who later on played violin in our music group.

Year 5 at Lenzie Academy


Back Row -Roderick Maclean, Thomas Morgan, Ronald Renfrew, James Hendry, Robert Goodwin, Harold Street, John Roy, Geoffrey Allan
Third Row - William Rankin, James Anderson, Ian Macpherson, Douglas Smith, David Anderson, Ian Brown, Me, Jack McIntyre, Andrew Buchanan
Second Row - The Rector Mr Farquharson, Vera Hutchison, Nessie Miller, Nancy Creighton, Ian Paterson, Blair Miller, Archie Little, Graham Davidson, Mr Mutch
Front Row - ?? , Nancy Beddoes, Essie Fleming, Mary Graham, Miss Harley, Betty Anderson, Lora Miller, Evelyn Dunn, Alison Macleod

The three violinists are all there - Douglas Smith now in Australia, Andrew Buchanan who sadly died as a result of a street accident a good many years ago, and Archie Little now in Edinburgh.

I’m in touch by e-mail with both Douglas Smith and John Roy who is in Canada.

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This poem is rather sad, but perhaps quite appropriate for EIGHTY PLUS.

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER (Thomas Hood 1799-1845)

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white;
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday -
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing;
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky;

It was a childish ignorance,
But now ‘tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from Heav’n
Than when I was a boy.

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Now, two more photos -
The first one of Jean and I taken a few days after my 56th birthday, and the other on my 60th when the girls in the office organised this surprise for me.





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As usual, a video clip to finish with. This trio from Korea are known as 3 Ladies and here they have fun with the opening theme from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. (I had no success when I tried to get more information about them. Google had many references to 3 Ladies, but none applied to those musicians.)



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FRIDAY 7TH NOVEMBER

THIS WEEK’S QUOTATION

Some people,
no matter how old they get,
never lose their beauty—
they merely move it from their faces
into their hearts. (Martin Buxbaum)

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CALLANDER RE-VISITED

In the 1970s my parents had a caravan at Callander and our family have happy memories of holidays and week-ends in and around the town.

Last week-end Jean and I spent an enjoyable few days there, and were glad to find that much of Callander remains the same - the River Teith with the swans and ducks, the mound where Margaret and Fiona used to sit playing their guitars and attracting the attention of interested boys, the main street with the big Dreadnought Hotel, numerous gift shops and cafes (many of them closed at this time of the year). And of course looking down on the town the imposing Ben Ledi with a little snow on its summit.

Some things have changed of course - the church with the tall steeple is now the Rob Roy museum, the Ben Ledi café is now a fish and chip shop, and the little sweet shop where we bought "soor plooms" is no more.

We were most fortunate in choosing that particular week-end, for up till then the weather had been continuously bad, and just the week before our visit there had been quite a bit of flooding when the Teith overflowed.

Here are a few photographs I took over the week-end.








On Tuesday I began a new Haiku blog called HAIKU HOMESTEAD and today's posting includes a photo taken at Callander. http://haikuhomestead.blogspot.com

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Some months ago I referred to the fact that there were very few motor cars when I was young. Most of the goods vehicles were horse-driven. However, more and more bus services were being introduced, and, as the streets gradually became busier, it was clear that certain “rules of the road” would be needed.

So it was that in 1931 the government issued a booklet which detailed instructions and regulations for road traffic. The illustrations it contained are rather amusing and here are a few from that very first edition of THE HIGHWAY CODE.





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It’s interesting to note that for many, many years Kirkintilloch district had three institutions for mentally deficient people. The earliest was Woodilee Hospital (known to us as “the asylum”) which functioned from 1875 till 2001. Then came Waverley Park Home 1906 -1993, and from 1936 till 2002 Lennox Castle Hospital.

I knew Waverley Park very well, for I entertained there on many occasions. When it opened, its purpose was to provide for the “Care of Defective and Feeble-minded Children”. In practice it was a home for girls and women, though I suspect that the women had been in the home since they were quite young.

The girls were always thrilled when visitors came to entertain, and enjoyed taking part.A church dramatic club which always performed comedy plays was very popular, and my violinist friends and I provided music between the acts.

A few of the girls who were more intelligent worked outside as domestic helps, and one in particular was employed by a local doctor for many years. All of them went out en masse each week, on Sunday mornings to church, and to the cinema on Saturday afternoons.

I used to dread meeting them in the street. They walked in a long line two by two, and, if they happened to see me across the road, they would nudge each other and point over to me. If I saw them before they saw me, I would take avoiding action by darting into a close, and wait there till they had passed by. Remember - I was probably aged 15 or 16 at that time.

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This is a great video for relaxing, with the music turned down soft in the background. The paintings are by Yao Fenh Shakya and the music by Karunesh.



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