found in clusters on the walls of the Double Dykes. During the summer,
in Orchard Crescent opposite the local police station, we would
happily burst the bubbles which formed in the patches of melting
tar; these patches of tar are still there today and I cannot resist
stepping on the bubbles even yet, although I try to do it discreetly.
Every day my brother and I would receive a threepenny bit which
we would spend at one of four shops. The first one was Mr Tait's
shop which was situated at the bottom of Redburn Road opposite Antonelli's
Chip shop: my favourite purchase from this shop was threepence worth
o' brown sugar which Mr Tait kept in a wooden drawer and scooped
up on to his scales to be weighed. At the bottom of the lane named
Cookies Wynd there was a row of buildings, the Salvation Army hall
and a small shop which we called Gordon's after the old man Johnny
Gordon who always took great patience to serve us with our penny
pokes of rainbow drops or threepence worth of soor plooms, which
left your tongue a bright green colour. Gordon's shop had a chewing
gum machine on the outside wall. My brother and his pals found a
way to fiddle this machine; using a fiat ice lolly stick they would
insert it into the slot intended for the penny and wriggle it about,
which triggered off the mechanism and released a penny packet of
Beech Nut chewing gum into the tray. This was our secret, and whilst
I shared the ill-gotten gains, I would never touch the machine,
believing that if they were ever caught by the police, I would be
quite innocent. The other two shops where I would spend my money
were further along the High Street. They were known as Mrs Jardine's
and Mrs Clyde's, which were next door to each other. Mrs Clyde made
the most delicious home-made fudge and toffee cups, or you could
buy a lucky tattie — a penny sweetie which had a plastic toy in
the centre of it, perhaps a tiny babydoll or a car. Mrs Jardine
had a tray full of assorted sweets on her counter costing one penny
each. It was known as the penny tray — she also had a tuppenny tray
for the richest of us schoolchildren. She also sold cinnamon sucks,
which the older children would light and try to smoke, feeling very
grown up. During certain days of the week, the Cooperative mobile
grocery van would come around the streets. I remember it coming
on Saturday mornings to ours. The man was "Tammy Bogie" and I would
be sent out to the van for a fourpit of tatties for my mother. Another
van man who came regularly was the Co-op baker, whom we nicknamed
"Renny Penny nae buns" since when he reached our street he would
be almost sold out of cakes and buns.
On Hallowe'en, we would go out guising in an assortment of old clothes
our mother gave us for dressing up in; one of our favourite haunts
was the Blackbull pub, situated across the road from Johnny Gordon's
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