by William Davie
When visiting my mother the other day I looked out her window and
thought what a wonderful historical part of the old Pans she lived
in.
From one window you looked at the Preston Tower which has stood
there despite battles and fires since the 14th century. Out of the
other window you can visualise where one of the best school buildings
stood — old PL — also destroyed by fire. But still outside her window
is the old mercat cross which is, apart from its own history, one
of the very few buildings that has thankfully escaped the exploits
of vandals and the graffiti people. From her door you look across
to the new community centre building where once stood Schaw's Hospital
or in my time Mary Murray's Institute.
So after mentioning these places she started to ramble on about
different places; she is now 85 and has seen quite a lot of changes
in our old town, and in our memories we started our journey around
the Pans.
Going down East Loan she spoke of men like old Ned Storrie, Bricky
Tammy and Charlie Smeaton — what a lovely garden he kept at the
corner of Wilson Avenue. This scheme was called after one of our
old provosts. Opposite his house, which is now the manse, was Mr
Guild the dentist then Mr Sibbald's or Lowes House, and on the other
side was the old manse or Logan Ayres house as we knew it. Continuing
down Harlaw Hill we have what was originally the co-op building,
where can still be seen the clasped hands or Unitas sign above the
door; and farther on is Harlaw House and on to the bottom of the
hill and the Main Street.
We now started to talk about shops which then formed both sides
of the street. To start with you had P. Cunningham the licensed
grocer, opposite Pypers Wynd, and a house with an outside stair
where it is said Sir Walter Scott lived when recuperating from an
illness.
Strolling along the street one would come to the scout hall, with
two wonderful characters as caretakers viz, Andra the Bear and Aggie
Boozie, then there was part of the brewery and the post office with
Mr Dickson as post master. The next house was old Willie Boyd's
and the store blacksmith — how I used to like the smell when he
was shoeing the |
