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Now that I have attained the age of sixty years old, I was sitting one day and remembering all that has gone on in my life, all the things that have changed.Things that are gone now, for good, never to return.Changes for the best, that is debateable, progress, again debateable. In fact it is amazing how much of today,s life and culture is based on the past, like for instance Trams making a comeback. This is my personal list of recollections, others will have many more, of that I am sure.

I remember the visits to Kelvin Dairies in Possilpark, with my grannie and watching mesmerised as the bakers up to their arms in flour, shaping and baking buns, loaves , cakes etc. Then on to the Co-op, where groceries were bought, not in pre-packs , but loose. Butter shaped and moulded by an assistant wielding two wooden paddles, one smooth,one serrated.The only products that came in boxes were porridge oats and cornflakes. Vehetables came loose, straight into the shopping bag.Cheese cut from a block with acheese wire, bacon cut on the bacon slicer. Tea was never bagged but came in quarter pound packs,loose tea leaves.Milk was delivered to your door and in the winter the cream froze, forcing the lid up and off inadvertently creating a feast for the Blue Tits. Saturday mornings walking down to the local newsagent and buying our supplies of comics like the Eagle, Hotspur,Tiger and occasionally The Beano or Dandy.On holiday we bought special edition comics like 21st Century, based on TV programmes like Fireball XL5 and Thunderbirds.There was also a comic/magazine whose name i cant quite recollect .Their stories were based on classic tales,foe example Call of the Wild,White fang.I rememeber also walking down to the dreaded Piano Teacher on a frioday after school, 2/6d it cost , about 12 and a half pence in todays currency.

We lived in Hillend Road, between Possilpark to the east, the Cadder scheme to the west and the Milton Scheme to the north.Trams trundled up balmore Road to the terminus at .Trolley Buses are also fondly remembered, rubber wheeled vehicles powered by electricity,how green was that.Fishing boats sailing along the Forth and Clyde canal with Lambhill Bridge raised to let it pass. Going to the butchers and getting a big bag of scraps to cook for our dog.Watching Lambhill juniors playing football on a Saturday afternoon on the pitch that is now an industrial estate.The same industrial estate that gave us kids a playground of hills and grass in the summer months. Where we found skylarks nests and lay back listening to their airborne song.Walks along the canal bank and looking for wildlife in Possil marsh, further along past Bishopbriggs and discovering hidden, ancient plantations all overgrown and a childs playground.Wandering the hedge rowed streets of Ruchill Hospital grounds ,bird-nesting. Not to vandakise but just to see the nests and youngster there.At the top end of hillend road there was a small tunnel called Hallowe,en pend, which went under the canal onto Ruchill Golf course.At this end of the road bushes and trees grew in abundance, we found a secret hideaway under some and that became our “wee den”. Talking of hidden places, my Grandfather leased an allotment in Possil which adjoined our back garden. Also there were many racing greyhound kennels beside them, between the kennels and the allotments ran a road ,well a track. Again a stand of trees and shrubbery grew , wild and unkempt. Squeezing through them ,imagine the delight and pleasure at finding a little pond there with ducks ,unperturbed swimming.

I remember cars , when they had chromed bumpers and bench front seats, they didn’t have digital players or mp3 plugs sophisticated gear changers. Most of them were column change gears. Summers when the tar melted on the roads, autumn fulls of leaves and nuts and wind, winters that froze everything and usually snow at Christmas, springs when everything grew anew.In other words defined seasons.Roads may have bben slow but certainly more interesting than todays grey strips of monotiny.Where it took most of the day to travel from Glasgow to Cullen in the Moray Firth. When the whole of Glasgow emptied at “Glasgow Fair” crowd heading for Steam trains and coaches to exotic places like Blackpool and Rothesay. We went to Girvan and then Cullen, exotic and strange for us.


In the late sixties came the days of peace and love of anti-war protests of new music. Even in

the press things became more open, censorship was frowned upon.The Beatles were a phenomena never to be repeated, Rolling Stones brought in rythm and blues, Dave Clark was glad and singer /songwriters appeared.Singing new songs for a new generation.Tie dyed T-shirts, Flared loon pants, native north American styles and Indian style from the east . amalgamated and ,like the flowers , bloomed. Long hair , for men became the norm, which led to mullets and feather cuts of the seventies.Hippies and hippie types rolled on in wheels of fire, some still adhere to these thoughts and way of thinking. Nowadays called New Age. Hippies may have been frowned upon then but they were the first to consider the environment and ecology, all religions were melded, influences from all the airts and pairts, unification indeed

Remember footballers before they became over paid prima donnas, when they could give and take a tackle.When teams had players who lived and grew up locally. The Home internationals when newspapers produced collectable editions especially for the Scotland v. England games.Watching black and white television, Andy Stewart at New Year, Francie and Josie,football matches in grainy black and white,Emmerdale when it was just a tale of everyday farm folk.  Days when the telly finished the same day it started, of test cards and intermissions. Games like subbuteo, draughts, chess, monopoly. When playing cowboys and Indians were not politically incorrect. The days when cycle rides up the trossachs was a regular Saturday excursion.Remember Bakery vans coming round, Fish vans, coal delivered by black sooty faced men with leathershoulder aprons, when dustbin men actually lifted the dustbins and came round to get them.Of gaslighters lighting street lamps and the gas lights in the closes. When Policemen walked the beat and were known to everyone even criminals.

These are some of the things that stick lovingly in my mind. The main thing was though was the caring ,sharing attitudes of the old days. Where everyone was the same in your street, no one had aspirations of grandeur. Yes the old days remembered fondly, were those days the best, yes when these days were the one my age group grew up in, Like today,s youngsters, their memories will be remembred fondly in their time.

Andrew  McIntyre    11 june 2013.        1129 words.


Andrew McIntyre
Sixty years of age, married for 39 years, two children and six grandchildren.
Andrew McIntyre

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