|
 | |  | |
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.
So many things that we took for granted then are no longer around. Hobbies, amusements, household utilities that were all the rage yet now seem to have faded into the dark mists of time.
Who can forget the old brass pull bells that were situated at the entrance of the stairs in the 'posher' parts of Leith? A battery of bells, each with the name of the particular household engraved on them would be positioned either side of the closed door.
These brass bells would be polished regularly. You could tell who had resided in the stair longest by the degree of fading of the name.
The door could be opened with the means of a flat key that was inserted into the lock enabling the latch to be lifted. During my milk boy days, I would lift the latch by inserting my pinkie into the lock and lift it with the first joint.
What about the regular call of the 'sweep'? One man would climb out onto the roof and hang like grim death onto the chimney tops as he lowered a weighted circular flat bristle brush. His mate calling to him from the fireplace below, 'Coo-ee', identified the correct chimney!
The brush would be lowered and pulled once the fireplace was sealed off with a sheet. The sweeps were always covered in soot. Nowadays vacuum operated cleaning systems are used.
How often did some people evade calling out the sweep thus saving on cash by tying some newspapers to a sweeping brush handle then setting them alight? These would then be pushed up the chimney in an attempt to burn off the build up in the breast. Often the fire brigade would be called out to dowse the resultant fire!
What about clearing choked 'sievers' in the roadside gutter? I remember as a kid I would poke away at the blocked spaces in the grills with a piece of wood. Adults would warn me that I was in danger of contracting Scarlet Fever in so doing.
Do you remember collecting the crown tops of lemonade bottles? (No matter what type of aerated juices they contained, 'lemonade' was always the name used).
We would prise the cork seal from out of the top so that when we placed the top in front of our jerseys, we would press the cork in from the back thus attaching it. This way we had a badge. We would collect these tops from the back of the Eldorado Ballroom on the morning after a dance.
Then again, we would take the rubber seal of a screw top and push it onto a clothes peg. Then a kirby hairgrip would be pushed under it and the ends pulled apart.
We now had a firing mechanism for propelling used matches. The grip would be pulled back against the ring and the recoil sent the matchstick on its way. Spare matches would be stored on the underside of the 'gun' held in place by the rubber.
Rolling Easter eggs. Starbank Park, Newhaven was a popular place for this. Today the floral star is still a feature of the park. Giant's Brae in Leith Links was another place where the eggs were sent rolling to destruction.
Chocolate being at a premium then, we had to make do with hardboiled eggs in a teapot to give them colour. I think that was the only time I could eat hardboiled eggs.
What about the Telegram Boy who wore a peaked pillbox cap, dark blue suit with a leather pouch slung across one shoulder by a strap that was kept in place by a tightly buckled belt, and not forgetting his ubiquitous red bicycle.
There was always a dread feeling of apprehension as he appeared on the scene. These were the days before private telephones became readily available.
Our nearest public telephone, the red box with its A, B and C buttons was at the top of Bangor Road. In a real emergency, we would use the public telephone in Leith Hospital.
The regular visits of the Salvation Army Band on Sunday mornings to streets around Leith, then the march back to its Hall in Bangor Road. It always seemed to be led by Mr Sampson, a powerfully built man with a distinct limp. The band always played around the Queen Victoria statue at the Foot of the Walk on Saturday evenings.
Our 'hunty gowk' (April fool) day of April 1st. The regular cry if a 'hunty gowk' was played after mid-day. 'Hunty gowk's passed, you're a silly ass'. The following day was 'taily day'.
For the adults who were interested in an off-the-field flutter on the horses there were the street bookies. Conveniently sited at various corners of the town, these bookies always had to have an eye open for approaching policemen.
In those days they were acting completely against the law. At regular intervals of time throughout the year, each bookie was arrested for the day. All monies found on them were confiscated. I do believe that they were forewarned as to the time of their impending arrest so as to give them time to offload the money.
John Stewart, 2001
| |  | |  |
To add a comment you must first login or join for free, up in the top left corner.
|
|
