the poor man and grip the bottom of
his long coat and he would swing his coat around lifting the dog
up in die air, all the while cursing and swearing. My brother
and I would run away and split our sides laughing until the tears
ran down our cheeks. Our dog was really a gentle creature and
he was only playing, although Ginger never knew this. Each time
he called after that, he would have a half brick in his barrow,
which he always picked up and threatened to hit our dog with,
so we kept our distance.
Our local police sergeant was Cossar
Brown and this was a man to respect and fear. If we were playing
innocently in the street at tig and saw Cossar and one of his
constables with him approaching us, we would all suddenly become
very polite and sit down on the kerb quietly until he had passed.
Even the threat of the police was enough to send us all packing.
We would play Chap Door Run, which was best played in blocks of
houses where there were no front gardens or gates to hamper your
escape, so we played in the Ponderosa or Inchview, as we would
run down the vennels and chap three doors at a time then hide
in another vennel. This was smashing fun for us* but not for the
occupants of the houses. Sometimes one of the wifies would phone
the police arid that was the game finished.
I would often supplement my daily
threepenny bit by asking favourite neighbours if I could go for
messages for them after school. This was a profitable business
for me. I also went to a certain house from which I was strictly
banned because the man of the house, according to the neighbourhood
gossips, was a drunk. He did enjoy a drink, I knew that. Indeed
the reason I visited and asked his wife if she wanted any messages
or errands run, was that I knew I would be offered the empty beer
bottles in repayment instead of cash — there was always at least
six empties and at tuppence for each one, I made a tidy sum. The
only risk I took was returning die empties, as they were to be
returned to the Forth Tavern known locally as The Goth. You had
to go in the front doors to the Jug Bar with empties, so you were
on public view to all the regulars and my next door neighbour
was always there. I was frightened he would mention to my dad
that I had been in the Jug returning empties, so I would crouch
down and put the bottles on the counter and hide until the barman
had time to serve me and give me my money. After this transaction
took place, I would cross the road to Johnny's — Antonelli's chip
shop — and purchase chips and ice cream, safe until another day.
Tuesdays were the days I had to go
up the hill to the sub post office, which was known as Mrs Beith's
after the lady who served in the shop and I believed at the time
owned it. This shop has changed many hands
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1745 
