Get oot o ma hoose!

Weel hullo there! Come in come in, ye're jist in time, ah've jist took ma rock-buns oot the oven, so they're nice an fresh fer ye. Ah hope ye like yer currants a wee bit incineratit, that's how ah like ma buns onyroads. Guid an crunchy oan the ootside, light an crumbly oan the inside. Ah hae tae admit it, ah dae a smashin rock-bun so ah dae. Weel there's nae guid hidin yer licht unner a bushel is there? If ye've got a talent ye should flaunt it, as ma auld pal Fanny Craddock yaist tae say. Ah wish ah could make tablet like ma auld grannie yaist tae make, but ye cannae hae awthin can ye? Ah'm no a bad baker if ah dae say so masel...

Whit's that? Ma title? Oh that! Naw naw, that's no aimed at yersel, dinnae be daft. Ye're aye welcome here, onyday. Naw that title's somethin ah heard anither auld wife shout yince, a guid few year ago noo, but ah'll come tae that in time. First tak yer coat an yer hat aff, an let me get ye settled aside the fire. It's still a bit parky oot there is it no? Ah've got a rerr fire gaun th'day, an that's nae mean feat giein the quality o the coal ye get these days. Last week ah got a bag that wis mair dross than onythin, ah had tae hae a wee word wi the coalman when he came roond. He wisnae awfy pleased at me either, ah'll hae tae keep an een oan him noo, tae mak sure he disnae try stickin hauf-bricks in ma coal!

Right, is that ye settled noo? Here's yer tea. An here's yer rock-buns. Aye they are guid, thanks. Ye dinnae think they're a bit hard dae ye? Sometimes, jist sometimes, they come oot mair rock than bun. Ach weel, if they dae then they're aye handy fer chuckin at Mr Pangloss, say if he starts snorin, or if he'll no wash the dishes. He's an awfy man fer baith. He's haein a wee lie-doon th'noo ben the hoose, can ye no hear him? Ah'm surprised ah dinnae get wee laddies comin tae ma door askin tae see ma train! Ah've nivver kent a man tae mak sae much noise lyin oan his back. Ah've aften stood ower him wi a cushion, wonderin if ah could, if ah should, if ah wid hae the strength...

Actually ah shouldnae joke aboot it. Ah'm awfy lucky wi Mr Pangloss, he disnae knock me aboot an ah should be thankful fer that. There's an awfy lot o wummen in worse situations, wi menfowk that batter them aboot or hit their weans, or even worse. Ye read aboot it aw the time in the News, an hear aboot it in the line at the butcher's. Naebody can be blamed fer makin a bad match, but some wummen seem tae mak a habit o it an gang fae yin bad man tae anither, Worse still, some wummen mak the same mistake twice, leavin their man efter gettin a hard time but then takin him back again. They ken whit they're gettin intae but somethin tells them it'll aw be different second time aroond. Let's tak a walk up the High Street an ah'll tell ye aboot a couple o them...

We're gaunnae tak a wee daunder doon the Old Assembly Close. Noo, ye'll mind this place fae when ah telt ye aboot the night ah helped start the Great Fire o Edinburgh. It's aw been re-bigged since then of course. If we'd come doon this close a few year ago durin the summer, we'd hae had tae squeeze past the queue fer the Fringe Festival box-office which stood at the tap o the close, an the wa's wid hae been covered in reviews cut fae the papers. It made fer some guid readin, an it wis aw free! Saved ye haein tae buy a paper.

But we'll no stop tae read them th'day, there widnae be much point anyroads oan account o this no bein August an the shows aw bein feenished. We'll walk further doon the close, past the auld wireworks, an doon tae Tron Square. The lower pairt o the square's a big C-block facin doon tae the Coogate, wi balconies facin the square itsel. It wis a guid bit tae raise a faimly fer ye could keep an een oan yer weans playin oot in the front coort, an ye could staun oan yer balcony an blether tae aw yer neebors.

Noo back in 1954 ah wis stayin ower wi ma auntie's sister's man's cousin's wife, fer the puir lassie's wean wis doon wi the whoopin cough an she hadnae slept in a week. Ah offered tae sit up wi the wee yin while she rested, which wis how ah heard the rammy that night, ower the noise o the coughin. It wis a dread noise ye ken, that noise o a wean fechtin tae catch its breath atween coughs. Ah'd had it masel as a wean, an ah can still mind the worrit look oan ma ain mither's face as she watched ower me. Like her, ah sat there that nicht worryin awa as ah watched ower this lassie's wee yin...

Upstairs fae us, at Number 57, George Robertson had returned tae his wife an faimly fer the last time. Him an Betty had had twa weans, George an Jean, by this time they were 18 an 16. George wis aboot tae start his National Service an Jean worked in a paper mill. Noo Betty had feenished wi George years afore an had divorced an even re-mairrit, but the second mairrage hadnae lastit mair than a few month. George had come back oan the scene, an Betty had let him in, hopin ah suppose that he had mendit his violent ways. Needless tae say, the leopard hadnae chynged its spots, the man wis still a callous an jealous thug, an afore long Betty had shown him the door, again. Sae feart were Betty an the weans o this terrible man that they kept a chair jammed agin the door at nicht, in case he decidit tae come back. Except this nicht, the 28th o February 1954 they had forgot...

Ah'd been aware o somethin gaun oan upstairs fer a wee while, thumpin an bangin an shoutin an the like, whit ah didnae ken at the time wis that this wis George attackin his faimly. Betty wis in aw likelihood deid awready when George the son, jist oot his bed an stabbed in the heid, had made a run fer it. He had ran doon the stairs an along the balcony, leavin wee bloody footprints in the snaw, an jumped in the scullery windae o the Hay's hoose at Number 42, richt through the wa fae whaur ah wis sittin watchin the sick wean. George the faither wis hot oan his heels, follaed his son intae the Hay's an continued his attack. "Get oot o ma hoose!" ah heard Mrs Hay screamin, but there wis nothin they could dae faced wi an angry man wi a knife...

George cairrit his dyin son back up tae Number 57, an thinkin he had feenished aff his faimly, he set aboot feenishin hissel aff. He turned the gas oven oan an lay doon, expectin no tae waken up. The Hays by this time had gethered thersels an run tae the Polis station up the High Street. When the polis arrived they found Betty an wee George lyin deid, Jean terribly woundit but alive, an George lyin unconscious wi his heid in the oven. George's defence at his trial wis that he had suffered a 'brainstorm', but he wis still convictit o double murder an sentenced tae hing at Saughton Jail. Oan the 23rd o June 1954, George Robertson became the last person tae be executit in Edinburgh...

Here, hae anither rock-bun, afore ah eat them aw masel. Naw, ah didnae go tae George's hingin. Weel, it's no like in the auld days is it, when ye actually got tae see the dirty deed yersel. Staunin ootside a jail waitin fer them tae pin up a wee notice, weel it's jist nae fun. Ah think ah went dancin up at the Fountainbridge Palais insteid...

Ah dinnae ken if it wis somethin in the water at Tron Square, but less than 20 year later, anither wumman had mairrit badly, saw sense an kicked him oot, then took leave o her sense an let him back in. Margaret Bain had got mairrit tae Andrew durin the war, but it only lastit till 1948 when the pair had got divorced, no an easy thing fer a wumman tae gang through in thon days. Margaret had suffert a terrible abuse durin the mairrage, bein burnt wi a poker, threatened wi a knife, haein cigarettes stubbed oot oan her airms, awsorts o devilish tortures. Why then, ye hae tae ask yersel, had she allowed Andra back intae her life? But let him back she did, an sure as guns the rows an fechts startit up again...

The nicht o the 16th o October 1973 they'd been haein yin o their rows, her gettin oan tae him aboot gettin a job, him, pished as usual, haein a go at her aboot her cookin. She couldnae help that, puir lassie, we cannae aw be Fannys can we? Durin the row Andra reached up, took a pair o Margaret's nylons doon fae ower the fire, an pit them roond his neck. "Gaun then!" he says, "Tak an end. Hing me if ye want! Ah'd raither be deid than eat yer lumpy mince onyway!"

Noo whether or no Margaret actually strangled her man we may nivver ken, ah dinnae think she kent hersel. She said she did, she turned hersel ower tae the polis sayin "Ah killed the bastard", she even pleadit guilty in the coorts, but durin the case a psychiatrist said it widnae hae surprised him if Andra had done aw the pu'in hissel. In the end, even though she pleadit guilty, the jury found itherwise. Why dae wummen get thersels intae sic situations ah'll nivver ken...

Naw it's like ah say, ah'm an awfy lucky wumman wi Mr Pangloss. He disnae hit me, he disnae bite me, he disnae stub his fags oot oan me. In fact he wid be the perfect man, if only it werenae fer that damned infernal racket! In fact, if ye're no wantin that last rock-bun, ah think ah'll awa ben an chuck it at his heid, or mibbe ah'll stick a couple o burnt currants up his nostrils. Ah ken, he's a puir battered husband an nae mistake...

Somewhere in between

Ah wis staunin up at the Tap o the Walk the other day. Ah had been up toun layin flooers at a grave, an ah jist stopped fer a meenit oan the way hame, an tried tae picture in ma mind's een the auld hooses an the new developments they're proposin fer the area. They're important plans, fer the entry fae Leith intae Embra's aye been a busy urban junction, wi a lang history, yin that cannae be easy shoved aside an forgotten. Ah've lost count o the nummer o times ah've passed that way, on fit or oan a tram, oan the back o a bus or the back o a tractor, up an doon, an then back up again. Aw the time Leith Walk's been open, ah've used it, an afore they built the Walk, ah wid come up the Leith Loan tae Greenside, mibbe nip in at Picardy an see ma pal Jean, then tak a left at the Black Bull, doon past St Ninian's Raw an doon the Lower Calton tae the fit o Leith Wynd, then up the wynd past the Happy Lands an in at the Netherbow Port, say if ah wis headin tae the High Street fer some messages. Sometimes ah wid jist stop at Jean's an no get ony further...

If ye bide in the toun long enough, ye're sooner or later bound tae find yersel swingin roon that big roundabout, bein glowered ower by the lumberin beasts o Calton Hill an the St James an the Omni, wi big wa's o gless an concrete flashin afore yer een, wee shop-fronts an statues an trees an corners wi streets aw gang aglay an church-fronts aw wheechin past yer vision. It can feel a bit like bein oan the Jungle Ride at the shows, in fact a lot o the folk walkin past the area look like they've jist got aff the shows. Mibbe they're lookin fer a shootin gallery or a chairoplanes...

It's a lively area, lang kent as a gaitherin place, as a place o fancies an dances. We've had circuses an preachins an hingins an ither entertainments. Ah mind, no sae many year ago, how excited we were as we aw gaithered tae watch the Kinetic Sculpture when it wis pit up. Ye can see the Kinetic Sculpture in the photie up there at the tap. The roundaboot wis a lot bigger then, an there were nae trees, they had knocked doon aw the Greenside tenements oan the left an er, left a big dryin green, an the pavements were aw huddled against the sides o a huge empty space. It wis like three hunner square yaird o barren concrete an gress, wi whit looked like a dozen or so scaffoldin poles rigged up in the centre as a tower, wi fluorescent tubes attached tae the poles. The idea bein that the tubes wid light up dependin oan whit way the wind wis blawin an how hard it wis blawin, an it wid look like a Space-Age Christmas Tree, Mr Heath's 'Europe' come tae Embra. It wis oor Atomium, Modren Airt, in oor ain wee toun, were we no the bees knees? Me an ma pal Maisie Crabbit had got loused early fae oor work tae come doon fer the grand switchin-oan o the lichts, expectin there tae be a big crowd an a lot o shovin tae get tae the front, but it wis sic a dreich efternin an sae bitter cauld that nae ither bugger had showed face! The streets were emptier than a wet Sunday!

Ye see, tae pit ye in the picture, this wis durin the Emergency in '73, when Ted Heath wis gaun in the huff wi the miners, the Commonwealth were gaun in the huff wi the British an the Arabs were gaun in the huff wi abody else, an the country wis runnin oot o petrol, o coal, o power, o sugar, even o tinned pineapples, an a'body wis depressed. Ye had tae keep an eye oan the telly tae see when ye were gettin yer electricity cut-aff, an ye couldnae keep yer fire oan aw day, an ah had tae wear troosers under ma frock. The cooncil had tae be seen tae be daein their bit o belt-tichtenin an aw, so aw they had sent along this day wis an auld man wi a box, an aw he could play wis "Green Green Grass o Home" an "Chirpy Chirpy Tweet Tweet" an he looked a bit skelly when he smiled ower, which he wis daein far too often so ah had tae keep pittin masel somewhere in between him an Maisie. Ah had telt her if she cam doon Leith Street wi me she wid get a thrill but that's no whit ah had in mind. At last the corporation laddie threw a switch fer the lights, an ye ken whit Maisie an I got? Ah'll tell ye whit we got. We got a meenit. Yin lousy meenit o flashin lights then nothin. Darkness. An "Chirpy Chirpy Tweet Tweet"...

The cooncil couldnae afford tae pay fer the electricity. Consequently the thing wis nivver switched oan an it jist stood there lookin like a bit o lonesome left-ower scaffoldin. The cooncil took it doon eventually an tried tae pretend it nivver existed. Ah dae believe it's still takin up space in yin o the cooncillors' gairden huts. Ye aften hear folk stoppin in the street an gaun 'Intit a shame' an 'ah fair miss it me', but ah cannae see them pittin it back up somehow. They likely couldnae switch it oan anyhow, ah'm sure it must've had a roond-pin plug oan it...

Of course there nivver used tae be a big empty space there. Aw naw. There used tae be a triangular block o tenements fu o faimlies facin ontae Picardy Place, Greenside Place, an the top pairt o Broughton Street, which used tae continue up past the cathedral till it met Leith Street. If ye can imagine the Greenside frontage, lookin oantae the Omni, as bein oan a line wi a lower continuation o Little King Street comin doon the back o John Lewis, which by the by is a wee joke ah'll tell ye aboot some day, ye'll hae the picture. This block wis demolished in the 60s tae make way fer an inner ring-road intersection that nivver came aboot, thank the lord. They wantit tae drive a dual-carriageway richt through the toun an alang Queens Street, can ye imagine? That nivver happened. We're lucky in a way that sae many o their great plans fer oor touns nivver come tae pass, but then, mibbe it wis aw fer the best, fer if we hadnae levelled aw thae hooses, whaur wid we have put the Kinetic Sculpture?