since, and is now known as The Wee Shop. Anyway, Mrs Beith was to
me every inch a lady; I always wanted to take over her job when
I grew up. She wore spectacles which dangled from a gold chain when
not in use, and beautiful silk blouses in pastel shades, which were
fastened at the neck with a big brooch, and she would wear a rubber
thimble on her finger as she flicked through bundles of ten shilling
and one pound notes. There were two sides in Mrs Beith's shop; one
side was the counter for comics, sweets and general groceries, on
the other was a glass front separating the public from Mrs Beith,
which was the post office side where she kept postal orders, books
of stamps and an ink pad and rubber stamp. I remember the day my
mother told us Mrs Beith had died; I was young, but I still felt
we had lost a friend and a very important character in Prestonpans,
and indeed we had.
We went to the baby clinic at the Mary Murray Institute with my
elder sister and her first baby. Nurse Wardrope was in charge and
she weighed the babies and dispensed orange joice and baby food
very effectively. It was Nurse Wardrope who had assisted in my entrance
into the world, and every time she saw me, she would remind me of
it,
The doctor's surgery was another place where my personality would
change. If I Had to attend with a minor illness, I would immediately
change from a cheeky chatterbox of a girl to a quiet polite well-behaved
child as soon as I stepped through the door. The surgery1
is now a hairdresser's opposite the Labour club, but for years,
as the public of Prestonpans will know, it was the overcrowded place
we all came to be healed by either Dr Brown or Dr Bolton. The surgery
was hardly ever empty, sometimes it was so overcrowded there would
be people waiting outside and sitting on the steps opposite, waiting
for their names to be called. The procedure was to knock at the
wooden door which covered a small serving hatch into the receptionist's
office, and tell the receptionist your name and which doctor you
wished to see, then if you were lucky you got a seat in the waiting
room, if not you stood outside until your name was called. This
job fell to the patient nearest the door, who then opened the door
and called out the name of the next patient. Often there was silence
except for the sniffles and coughs, but as each patient came in
there would always be someone who would enquire as to what the person
was suffering from and half of Prestonpans would know, so there
were no secrets in the doctor's surgery. Today we have a spacious
health centre, a far cry from the old days.
When I was older, twelve years old, and attending first year at
Preston Lodge School, I applied for a job after school at Lowes
the local market gardens. My friends 'and I would rush home after
school to change into
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