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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