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Memories of growing up in Leith. The trials and tribulations of the period, allied to the camaraderie of the community in facing up to an uncertain future made a lasting impression on John Stewart.
I was really getting used to office work and was hoping for advancement in my career and a salary increase. I was earning £72 per year. Not much, considering I earned more in wages and tips during my stint as a milk boy.
Alas, events took on an ominous look. In February of 1956 I developed a lump on the left side of my neck. At first it was only slight but Diana, another clerk who I worked with, noticed it. She said it looked like I was getting the mumps.
My mother took me to the doctor who prescribed me iron tablets. This had no effect and the swelling was increasing all the time. I was now becoming very self-conscious of it.
I was too young to be concerned at what it might be. I worried about how I looked. I used to wear a scarf tightly wound around my neck to disguise it.
Anyhow, I was referred to Leith Hospital where they diagnosed a tubercular gland. I had apparently caught this from drinking unpasteurised milk.
The specialist, Mr Barron put me on a daily course of sunray treatment that I had to endure for three months. I was as red as a beetroot with all the exposure. By this time the lump had grown brick hard and was very disfiguring.
Again, I never at any time worried about my long-term prospects other than could it be got rid off. I was assured this would be done but only by an operation.
At the beginning of June, I was admitted to Ward 4. Four days later I was operated upon. Within two days of the operation I was up and about. My head was completely swathed in bandage and when the time came for it to be removed I asked for a mirror.
The nurse was at first reluctant but then relented. She warned me it would not be a pretty sight with all the stitches, clips and dried blood. I sat up in bed and waited impatiently as the wrappings were removed. I must say I was a bit taken aback, but the lump had gone.
I was to remain in hospital for the next three weeks. The ward was a 'Nightingale Ward', that is it had a very high ceiling with more than thirty beds in it. Most of these were occupied with elderly male patients. I was the youngest in there.
As a result I assisted the nurses in running around fetching and disposing of bedpans. As well as that, I also made up swabs that I delivered to the theatre. I delighted in being able to do this.
It was during my spell in hospital that I developed my interest for crosswords. It has never left me. Also at this time the war in Korea broke out.
After the three weeks I was eventually discharged but had to report on regular occasions to have my wound checked out. Ironically, I was no sooner home than I was pining for to get back. I missed all the company I had just left. I was really homesick for the ward and I envied all the patients I had left behind.
My parents had gone off on holiday to the Isle of Man having been assured of my well-being. I went to Gilmerton to stay with my auntie Peggy and her family. Lo and behold, I was no sooner there than I developed a nettle rash. I suppose it was because I was in a rundown state following my operation.
I returned to work after six weeks and was the centre of attention for a while, especially among the girls. I did have a fancy for one, Cynthia but it never got beyond that.
However, my heart was not really in office work. After a few months I had made up my mind that I was going to join the Royal Navy Boys Service.
My parents were not at first keen on the idea, but soon relented. I was booked to appear at the Royal Navy recruitment office in Hanover Street in February 1951 for various tests that included a medical.
I was over the moon at this and could not hide my enthusiasm for it. I told everybody about it and how I was hoping to join the Fleet Air Arm as an artificer.
Time came when I appeared at the recruitment office along with about a dozen other boys. We were full of hope and great expectations. The morning session dealt with general knowledge and adaptability tests. In the afternoon it was time to face the doctors.
My turn came, and my recent operation was mentioned. On examination, the doctors frowned and explained that due to some muscle being taken out from my left shoulder, this had left me with a degree of disability. As a consequence, I could not be passed fit for service.
I was thunderstruck. This was an experience I had never encountered before in my sixteen years. Seeing the others passing through successfully and after my previous excitement, my heart was in my shoes. It was hard not to show my feelings. I could not get dressed and out of the place quickly enough.
I caught the tramcar home and found my parents were out. I threw myself on the armchair and sobbed out aloud. I felt my whole world had come crashing about me.
'Why me?' I was in an inconsolable state. I had barely left school and now I was being cast as a reject. Even to this day, fifty years on, as I write this the pain of rejection can still be felt.
Then it occurred to me, how could I face my fellow office staff after all my bragging about my future life in the Royal Navy? At first I could not face going back. When my parents returned they were as sympathetic as I could expect, but deep down I suppose they were relieved at me not leaving home.
I returned to work on the following day determined to put a brave face on. When asked how I got on I faced them with the facts. Not one was out of sympathy with me. I did confide my true feelings to Diana and she truly understood.
My time in the office was about to come to an end. I resolved that I would go to sea in one way or another.
With this in mind, I sought out a job with Henry Robb, Shipbuilders in Leith. I thought if I could qualify as an engineer, I could get to sea in that capacity.
Unfortunately, engineering vacancies were not available at the time, but if I started as a ship's plumber, then I could possibly switch over at a later date. I accepted this and as a consequence I began in the Yards in March 1951.
John Stewart, 2001
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