was an old tramp who stayed here often, whom we nicknamed Whitey,
as all you could see were the whites of his eyes. His face was always
encrusted with coal dust; indeed he would tell us that the authorities
had taken him against his will and given him a bath and a change
of clothes. Whitey's pride and joy was an old moped which did not
work. He used to push it everywhere he went, with a few meagre belongings
strapped on to the back with an old rope. He was often to be found
in the area of the brickworks or Managers Brae which led to a part
of the woods we called The Tramps' Tunnel, as there were always
signs that tramps had been here, such as old newspapers, blankets,
a mattress, odd garments of clothing and billycans. Whitey was often
the subject of our tales, of how he had grabbed one of us to kidnap
us and put us in a sack to be taken away and never seen or heard
of again. This resulted sometimes in a crowd of us going to seek
him out and call names at him then run for our lives as he gave
chase.
The Co-operative bakery backs on to the beach and some days stale
cakes and pastries were thrown out on to the beach, presumably for
the seagulls, but if we were there at the time playing shops on
the rocks we would run up and scoop the cakes up before the seagulls
got a chance to peck at them, and used them to sell to our customers,
sometimes taking a wee taste to ourselves if the temptation was
too much.
Once a year we would go on the Legion trip. It took place on a Saturday
morning and you could only go if your father was a member of Prestonpans
Royal British Legion, which is still situated in Rope Walk near
the Pennypit. Anyway, my dad was a member, so we could go, and I
always remember my mum always bought my brother and me a new hat
for this trip. We would receive two shillings each to go to Wallie
Wilson's drapery shop which is now Tommy Morgan's sports shop at
the foot of Policeman's Brae, to choose a new hat each. One year
I remember I chose a green wool one and my brother chose a leather
type pilot's hat with ear flaps and we went quite happily on to
the bus with our hats on, waving to our mother as the bus departed
for the trip. But as soon as the bus was out of sight we would pull
the hats off and stuff them down the seats. It was a strange ritual
that my mother insisted on every year, 1 can only think she thought
we would look well-dressed to the outsiders to whom we waved during
our journey.
I have lots of fond memories of my childhood in Prestonpans and
I have mentioned but a few of the shops, and familiar landmarks
in Prestonpans where I as a child enjoyed many of my adventures.
Even I have seen a lot of changes for the better in Prestonpans,
and I am not yet an old age pensioner but twenty nine years old
with a family of my own
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