the occasion merited. With "Ivy" Stewart as sergeant we were put
through drilling and marching procedures until it was felt that
we were smart enough to go out on route marches to Port Seton, before
taking part in the battalion parades in Edinburgh. One night a week
was set aside as a drill night, with another night set aside for
boxing and other activities. The weekend saw the football team in
action and it was some team. They licked the pants off every team
in the Edinburgh battalion. However, I had nothing to do with that;
despite my longing to play, I was just not good enough for selection.
Cuthill School was the starling point for our education. The headmistress
was Miss Smith and her assistant was Miss Donaldson. I can remember
very little of my time there but what has always been with me is
the memory of picking up what I took to be a dead wasp, only to
find Out, very painfully, that it was still very much alive and
stinging. At the age of nine, we moved to Prestonpans Public School
and into a new world. On our way through the High Street we discovered
Vantas drinks at Jock Neilson's shop and eucalyptus drops at Mrs
Bathgate's, brown sugar at Mr Whitelaw's, fruit at Aggie Bagnall's
and broken biscuits by the bag at the Buttercup. New pals and new
games were found at Public School, our favourite pastime being found
in jeering at the boys passing the old Grey School on their way
to Preston Lodge. We did not give any thought to the possibility
that we might be joining them if we passed our qualifying examinations.
Passing the examinations gave our parents the choice of allowing
us to stay on at the Public School until the school leaving age
of fourteen, or of moving to Preston Lodge Secondary School. The
Public School teaching staff had prepared us well for our step up
to a secondary school. What we were not prepared for was the totally
different atmosphere, with teachers wearing black gowns and prefects
lording it over us first year novices. Being a regular reader of
the Greyfriars School stories, I was not going to be surprised if
Frank Nugent, Bob Cherry or Billy Bunter appeared round the corner.
What did happen in my first live minutes within the school gates
was that I was approached by someone claiming to be a prefect. He
casually requested that I write out fifty lines to be in his hands
at assembly the next morning. Less casually, I asked him what I
had done. It turned out that I was to write out fifty times, "I
must not laugh in the school playground". He as politely told to
go and visit a taxidermist, whereupon he walked away. I wonder if
he ever did find someone daft enough to give him the lines. On the
whole I enjoyed being at Preston Lodge. Apart from the Rector, Dr
Millar, who Was only seen at assembly by the bulk of the school,
the teaching staff were very good. They were strict but were still
able to lighten the boredom of the
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