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 shop
|
1745 
