FRIDAY 26TH DECEMBER

“Santa Claus has the right idea. Visit people once a year.” (Victor Borge)

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I REMEMBER being really angry when my parents admitted that there was no such person as Santa Claus.

I REMEMBER my father telling us children that on Hogmanay there would be a man at Kirkintilloch Cross who had as many heads as the days in the year.

I REMEMBER carols being played and sung by the Salvation Army outside our tenement building in the dark.

I REMEMBER that our family and the family of our father’s brother George used to get together every New Year’s Day, meeting in each other’s homes on alternate years. There was always a huge meal, and I think there was a bit of rivalry between our mother and Aunt Jen.

I REMEMBER our parents taking us to a pantomime in a Glasgow theatre. I was more interested in the musicians in the pit than what was happening on the stage. In those days theatres had fairly big orchestras.

I REMEMBER that, as a young man, I used to attend the New Year’s Day performance of Handel’s Messiah in St. Andrew’s Halls. Every seat was occupied by the time the Glasgow Choral Union and the Glasgow Orchestral Society took their places, and from midday till three o’clock we sat enthralled by the music.

This is a clip of "For unto us a child is born" with Sir Colin Davis conducting the London Symphony Orchestra and the Tenebrae singers.


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A sad tale -

‘Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste.
All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvellous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."

So - away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore---
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

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The Nativity by the 15th century Italian painter Piero della Francesca

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Naturally being a church organist for many years Christmas had added importance for me. As early as October, music had to be chosen for the special services, and, if a cantata was to be performed, September wasn’t too early to start practising.

Christmas services were always very well attended, and it was a great experience to accompany the singing. Unfortunately a problem arose one Christmas Eve service at Lenzie Old Parish Church. Because the licensing hours had been changed, the hour of the pubs’ closing time coincided with the time folks were arriving for the service, and quite a number of drunks came into the church. There was a lot of noise and some disruption, and we soon learned that ours was not the only church to be affected in this way. Many of the congregation vowed never to come again to a Christmas Eve service, which was sad for a solution to the problem was found. In the years that followed, rather than turn people away from the church, any drunks were led in to the hall where they were given coffee and something to eat, and they could hear the singing coming from the church.

Christmas Day services are designed for the children of course, but I was always sorry for our own three girls on Christmas morning. Instead of playing with their toys and games, they had to come to church with us, although I don’t remember them complaining.

I’m often asked if I miss playing church organ. Well, all that was a long time ago. My answer would be - no, I don’t miss it, but when I hear “O come all ye faithful” on Songs of Praise……………

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Recently on YouTube I’ve been re-discovering songs I haven’t heard for more than fifty years, many of them giving me a real thrill. This one has no connection with Christmas or the New Year, but in some way it seems suitable for this time of the year - Paul Robeson singing “When you come to the end of a perfect day”.



The New Year lies before you
Like a spotless tract of snow
Be careful how you tread on it
For every mark will show. (Anon)



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FRIDAY 19TH DECEMBER

My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that? (Bob Hope)

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Christmas in the 1930s was very different from the Christmases of today.

In Scotland Christmas Day was just like any other working day, with offices, shops and factories open as usual, and Hogmanay and the New Year were much more important, New Year’s Day being a general holiday.

I believe that there was Midnight Mass in most Catholic churches on Christmas Eve, but the other churches didn’t have any services either then or on Christmas Day.

We children of course became very excited as the big day drew near. I remember that the living room in our tenement house looked wonderful with paper decorations round the walls and extending across the ceiling. I mentioned in an earlier blog that Rita doesn’t think we got many presents. I seem to remember that we did, but memory can play tricks, and I may be thinking about one particular Christmas.

Each year we went to the Sunday School Christmas party where we played the usual games and Santa Claus handed out gifts to us all. I don’t think people had Christmas trees in their homes in those days, but there was always a big tree at the party.

Our parents usually took us to Glasgow to see Santa Claus in a big store. On one occasion we were passing through a number of corridors lined with toys and novelties, when we came across a huge teddy bear, taller than an adult. As we passed it, our father shook its paw and said “How d’you do?” And its head fell off!!!

On the Sunday nearest Christmas Day, we sang the usual Christmas hymns in church, but there was no tree and no decorations.

It wasn’t till the late 1940s that Scotland began to make more of Christmas. Perhaps the change was due to our servicemen coming back to civvy street, having experienced how it was celebrated elsewhere. This was certainly the case in our church when the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols was introduced, but I think it was some time later that services on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were begun. I remember one local minister telling me that he went to bed at ten every night, and had no intention of changing his routine!

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A real weepie, bringing back a lot of memories for me -
“The Little Boy that Santa Claus forgot” sung by Phyllis Robbins




“Christmas Morning” by the Swedish painter Carl Larsson (1853-1919)

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The Druids thought the mistletoe
Would stop the meanest witches,
Cure the deadliest disease,
Keep cradles safe from switches.

Today it is the symbol of
The mystic power of earth,
For when the sun’s about to die
In love we find rebirth. (Anon)

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As I already indicated, New Year was much more important in those days, and most families had some kind of celebration on New Year’s Day. In our house we stayed up on Hogmanay, and when midnight struck we wished each other a Happy New Year, had a small glass of non-alcoholic wine with some shortbread or a piece of New Year bun, and went to bed.

In other homes of course families would gather to toast the New Year with something a bit stronger than our Co-op wine, and would have a party which might last till early morning. Many folk would go out “first-footing” and it was important to take a bottle with you.
The “first foot” is the first person to visit you after midnight and, in order to bring good luck, he should have dark hair and carry a lump of coal. I understand that in some areas he carried a piece of cake or bun, coal and a coin, to ensure that there would always be food, warmth and money throughout the coming year. I’ve heard that some folk at midnight open their back door to let the old year out, and open the front door for the new year to come in.

My first experience of celebrating New Year in the traditional way didn’t happen till I was 27 years old. Jean and I had become engaged the previous August, and I think she was anxious to initiate me into the customs of her family. Strangely enough, neither of us can remember much about that night. (No insinuations, please!) I know we started off in her house and then went out, but who we visited we can’t recall.

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I remember that, when I was a boy, there was one New Year’s Day programme on the wireless that my father would never miss, and that was Harry Lauder. I could never understand his popularity, yet at one time he was said to be the highest paid entertainer in the world. I feel that those few remarks about New Year memories wouldn’t be complete without one of his songs, so here‘s “A Wee Deoch-an-Doris”



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This week there was an important landmark for my WISE MEN SAY blog. The post on Tuesday was the one thousandth since I began in February 2006, and I published again my favourite saying -

“You will find meaning in life only if you create it. It is not lying there somewhere behind the bushes, so you can go and you search a little bit and find it. It is not there like a rock that you will find. It is a poetry to be composed, it is a song to be sung, it is a dance to be danced.” (written by the Indian mystic Osho 1931-1990)

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FRIDAY 12TH DECEMBER

Without music, life would be a mistake.  (Friedrich Nietzsche)




MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE PIANO

I think I’ve already said that I wasn’t terribly keen on learning the piano. However, like everything else, my parents made the decision, a piano was bought and Rita and I went every week to Aunt Frances for lessons. The fact that she was our aunt made no difference - she was pretty strict with us, and, supervised by our mother, we each did our half-hour’s practice every day. Very soon I discovered that I liked to have an audience, and was always keen to perform for anyone who would listen.

Frances had a string of letters after her name, and used the recognised methods of teaching. Later on however, she was clearing out her sheet music, and I acquired a number of popular songs which I eagerly practised - Old Faithful, O Play to me Gypsy, When I grow to old to dream, I’ll never say “never again” again, and my favourite Red Sails in the Sunset

This record of 1935 is by the Casani Club Orchestra. This band, resident at the Casani Club in London, was led in the 30s by Charlie Kunz and it’s likely to be his piano-playing which is heard on the record.



During the few years before the war, our summer holidays were spent at Lower Largo in Fife. Despite the fact that this was a fairly small resort, there was a concert party performing twice daily on the pier. The first year we were there, it was in the open air, but after that the shows were inside a large tent. Of course I was thrilled with them, and would have attended all the performances. When we were back home, I spent hours at the piano, pretending I was playing for the concert party.

At secondary school a big annual event was the dance and, in preparation for this, there were dancing lessons. I was usually given the job of pianist, with the result that I never really learned to dance satisfactorily.

The music for the actual night was provided by a band made up of boys slightly older than I was. A few years later their pianist left and they asked me to join them. I suppose that they would probably have had no more than 4 or 5 engagements per year, but my parents said “No”. That was a great disappointment to me. Playing in a dance band was not quite respectable, it seemed!

A time came when I did play at dances, but, in order to book me, one band-leader used to approach my father to get his permission. I’m sorry to say that there were occasions when I played at dances without telling my parents.

I’ve been remembering the many “classical” pieces I learned in those far-off days. One of them was the famous Minuet by Paderewski, and I found this clip of the composer himself playing it in the 1936 film “Moonlight Sonata”. He had an interesting life as pianist, composer and diplomat. During 1919 he was Prime Minister of Poland, signing the Treaty of Versailles for his country, and later became Polish ambassador to the League of Nations.



During the second world war there were many charity concerts in aid of the war effort, and very often I took part as accompanist. Most folk had to spend their holidays at home and during the Glasgow Fair Fortnight there was every type of entertainment in the parks or in the local halls, and I had a great time playing for them.

While in the RAF I was able to enjoy my music to the full. Our small band, consisting of trumpet, guitar, double bass, vocalist and me on piano, played regularly on the camp and in nearby Carterton.

I had an unusual musical experience when I broke every rule in the book. The Royal Naval School of Music at Burford were holding a big dance there, and, strangely enough, they didn’t have a pianist available that night. They got in touch with our CO’s office and I was delegated to do the job. And so it came about that a RN vehicle was sent for me, and, on arrival at the dance hall, I had to change into the full dress uniform of a RN musician - totally against all regulations!!! That was the first time I played with a full dance band, and it was a great thrill!

I don’t know when this next video was made - “In the Mood” played here by the Glenn Miller Orchestra led by Tex Beneke. There are 4 trumpets, 4 trombones, a French horn, 5 saxes, the usual rhythm, plus a string section which is seen briefly towards the end of the clip



After demob I played with a number of bands, mainly deputising, and it wasn’t till I was married and we had our three children that I joined a “big band”. The Metronomes line-up was 2 trumpets, trombone, 2 saxes, piano, drums and vocalist. They played for dancing every Saturday night in Riddrie, Glasgow, and had quite a number of dances and weddings elsewhere.

Eventually, reflecting the general changes in popular music, the services of the two sax players and myself were dispensed with, being replaced with guitars. Rock ‘n Roll had arrived!!!

Coming Soon -

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE ORGAN

FRIDAY 5TH DECEMBER

THIS WEEK’ S QUOTATION -

Most people say that as you get old, you have to give up things. I think you get old because you give up things.  (Theodore Francis Green)

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Following my invitation for anyone to have a go at composing haiku, I must thank Natsuko who sent me three. I posted one of them on the HAIKU HOMESTEAD site on Wednesday. Here it is -

rough winter crossing
queasy faces, silent, grim
harbour lights shine out

I like it. Anyone else want to try?



Our friend Leonard Lewis died three years ago last Tuesday at the age of 78.

He and I met at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire where we were doing our National Service. We soon became friends for we shared a keen interest in all things connected with entertainment. We joined the station concert party where he was a jack-of-all trades and I provided the music. For one of our shows we had the professional assistance of Ralph Reader of Gang Show fame who was on our station planning that year’s RAF Pageant at Olympia.

One of our cast was a civilian worker Bunny Shayler, a comedian who had his own small group of entertainers outwith the RAF. Leonard and I joined them and we did quite a number of shows around Oxfordshire. I remember going to one village in the wilds where, on our arrival at the hall, Bunny was greeted with “Are you the man from the BBC?” (He rather traded on the fact that he had once been on BBC Midland Children’s Hour). Not long afterwards though, he appeared on radio in Hughie Green’s “Opportunity Knocks”, and I was one his supporters who accompanied him to the live broadcast in the Paris Cinema, London.

This is a photo of Leonard with me taken sometime in the late 1950s.



After demob Leonard worked in rep at Morecambe and Ashton-under-Lyne before going to the Library Theatre, Manchester. I met up with him again when he came to Glasgow to join the BBC as a TV production assistant. He and his wife Jean and their three little girls came to live in Lenzie and our two families got on well together.

In 1963 his work took him back to England, and his family followed of course. From then on, his name appeared regularly in Radio Times as director or producer of Z Cars, Softly, Softly, When The Boat Comes In, The Good Companions, Flambards and others. Before he retired, he was executive producer of the long-running BBC soap “Eastenders”.

I must mention that the playwright Alan Plater wrote a very fitting obituary which appeared in the Guardian on 11th January 2006.

This is a photo I took of Leonard and Jean at their home in Somerset.



When I think of the RAF Concert Party, I always remember Leonard on stage, dressed as a butler, reciting this monologue -

A lady to see you, Mr. Archibald, sir.
The matter appears to be pressing.
Luncheon was served quite an hour ago,
I didn’t awaken you, sir, as you know.
There are times, sir, when sleep is a blessing.
I have here some ice, sir, to put on your head,
And also a whisky and 'polly'.
I don't know what time you retired to bed,
But the party sir, must have been jolly…
…If you'll pardon my saying so.

The lady in question a-waiting below,
Is accompanied, sir, by her mother,
And also a prize-fighting gentleman, sir,
A pugnacious character one might infer,
Whom the lady describes as her brother.
The elderly female is quite commonplace,
A most vulgar person, I fear, sir,
Who shouts in a nerve wracking falsetto voice,
And her language is painful to hear, sir…
…If you'll pardon my saying so.

The prize-fighter person is burning with hate.
He refers to you, sir, as a 'twister.'
He threatens to alter the shape of your 'clock,'
To break you in half, sir, and knock off your 'block,'
Unless you do right by his sister.
The young lady says, sir, with trembling lips,
That you made her a promise of marriage.
She wants to know why she should eat fish and chips,
While you, sir, ride by in your carriage…
…If you'll pardon me saying so.

Sir John has a dreadful attack of the gout,
He is fuming to beat all creation.
My lady, your mother, is up in the air.
She is having hysterics and tearing her hair,
And borders on nervous prostration.
Would you wish me to pack your portmanteau at once,
And look up the times of the trains, sir?
Or perhaps you would rather I brought you a drink,
And a pistol to blow out your brains, sir…
…If you'll pardon my saying so.

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In this short video, I reckon there are glimpses of more than 80 paintings cleverly merging into one another. I’m sure you’ll recognise quite a few of the subjects.



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MORE RAF MEMORIES

Like so many others, my time in the Service began at RAF Padgate. From there, I went on to RAF Bridgenorth, Shropshire for square-bashing, and then to Halton where I trained as a dental assistant. I spent a few weeks at St.Athan in South Wales before being posted to Brize Norton where I would stay for the rest of my service.

Of all the jobs in the RAF at that time, mine surely was the cushiest. Located in Sick Quarters, the dental surgery had a personnel of just two, the dentist and myself. From the time I started at Brize Norton till the day I left for demob, I was never on parade and never had to be inspected. The reason was that, when all the other airmen were on the square at 8.20 a.m., I was with the medical orderlies in Sick Quarters attending to the dental sick parade - and very few reported dental sick!

The first dentist I worked for was Flight-Lieut. Cloutman. He was a real upper-class type who was obviously keen to make the RAF a career. When he was posted elsewhere I was quite glad, and imagine my surprise when his successor turned out to be someone I knew by sight. Flying Officer Copstick had just graduated from Glasgow Dental Hospital and this was his first posting. We worked well together.

Morning break was at ten o’clock, and you could go either to the NAAFI or to the Church Army for tea, coffee, rolls, etc. The Church Army hut was handier and I usually went there. There was always a number of us waiting outside for the door to open, and I remember that each day the radio inside the hall was playing the Housewife’s Choice signature tune.

In many ways my job was just an ordinary five-day week job - free at week ends and in the evenings. Wednesday afternoons were for all kind of sports, and you needed a really good reason to be excused. And yes, I had a good reason! Rehearsing with the concert party and with the Brize Rhythm Group.

Lots more memories to come - but one more just now. This might be called My Most Embarrassing Occasion. I managed to get home leave frequently but there was one Christmas when that wasn’t possible. Now, there’s a tradition in the RAF (perhaps in the other Services too) that the officers serve dinner to the airmen on Christmas day. I was looking forward to the meal, but got the shock of my life when I went in, for out of all the people there I was the only one not in uniform!!!!!!!
I was so used to being in civvies in the evenings and week ends that it never entered my head to wear uniform. And no one had thought to tell me what was expected. Now, the remarkable thing is that not one of the officers spoke to me about what could have been considered a serious faux pas.

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The song “My Happiness” always reminds me of Brize Norton for it was very popular then, and I was always a fan of Judith Durham.



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Finally, a story………

One day an Englishman, a Frenchman, an Indonesian and a Chinaman were passing a drinking fountain, when the Englishman said, “Look, someone’s left a cup on the wall here.”

“No, no”, said the Frenchman, “that’s not a cup, that’s a tasse.”

“You’re both wrong,” said the Indonesian, “It’s a cawan.”

“Now, hold on,” said the Chinaman, “you’re all wrong, that’s a pei, and I can prove it. The Chinese dictionary is much older than any of yours, and anyway more people speak Chinese than any other language. So it’s called a pei.”

While they were arguing, a Buddhist came past and drank from the cup.
“Whether you call it a cup, a tasse, a cawan or a pei,” he said, “the purpose of this vessel is for it to be used. So why don’t you stop arguing, and drink?”

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