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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