I was born in March 1939 at No. 10 Govanhill Street and at the end of that year my mum moved back to her parents abode having been abandoned by my father and so from them on until I got married I lived at 303 Argyle Street which was on the corner of Robertson Street - our living room and part of our bedroom windows were in Robertson Street with the remainder in Argyle Street. We had a lovely oriel window in our bedroom from which you could look west along Argyle Street or up Wellington Street to just past the Alhambra Theatre. (The front of this block is now a Radison Hotel but I do have an old photo of it)
There were my grandparents, mum's younger sister Kathleen and mum and me. Brother Jim was already in the army and in France.
We lived on the top floor and below us the first and second floors were owned by Robert Biggars, Pawnbrokers. The first floor was where the business was done and customers had a choice of five cubicles to go into. These had frosted glass on either side for privacy and a counter ran along the whole length of the row of cubicles. The second floor was used as a storeroom.
My earliest memory is of being lifted out of my cot in the middle of the night, stuffed in my pram - all by torchlight - and half carried and bumped down the three flights of stairs, along the close and into Argyle Street. Turning left into Robertson Street and crossing the road towards Robertson lane - I can still feel the pram bumping over the cobblestoned road and lane. About half way down the lane we were guided into a building and down into the basement where we stayed until the 'all clear' but I don't remember much of that as I usually fell sleep. Pop (my grandfather) was a Fire Watcher, looking out for dropping incendiries. My Aunt Kathleen was in the Civil Defence and would stay out in the streets helping people find somewhere safe during the bombing and attend anyone who got injured. I can see her now wearing a longish grey trench coat, tin helmet and her gas mask in its box on string and slung around her shoulder.
As I understand it, tenements in the inner city didn't have air shelters as there wasn't enough room to build any so the basements of office blocks were used instead and local residents would be told which one to go to. When you think about it, if that building had a direct hit, we would all have been killed anyway. I think that as the war continued, many people just stayed in their building sitting on the stairs and landings. I certainly don't recall any bombs being dropped in the vicinity of where we lived.
I too had a gas mask which when I was a little bit bigger I can remember wearing. It was a mickey mouse gas mask - sort of reddish/pink colour and had a floppy nose which people would annoyingly come over and flip with the finger.
I can remember after the war playing with it. Also we had a metal bucket in the house which was filled with a fine sand and I used to sit and play with that, running it through my fingers. There was also a stirrup pump which you were supposed to use to help put out fires. Eventually these items disappeared, so maybe someone came round and collected them.
When war started my aunt Kathleen was working at the bomb factory at Clydebank but as bombing raids continued, she decided it wasn't safe and left, obtaining a job in the city centre.
The part of the building on the right of us was used as a N.A.A.F.I. during the war. When war was over and I was allowed out to play, I used to sit at the front of the close and watch the people passing. The N.A.A.F.I. took up the three floors, the first being a restaurant/cafe with tables and chairs. The kitchen was on the ground floor and sometimes they left the back door open which was in the back court and us kids could look in. We used to watch all the different branches of the forces going in and out and the most popular for the children were the Americans. As soon as any appeared either out of the door or coming along Argyle Street, they were rushed at by the kids shouting 'Any gum chum' which seemed to amuse the Yanks, as we called them and they would happily hand out any sweets they had in their pockets. One American soldier was chewing on a bar of Highland toffee having just taken a bite and saw me sitting at the close and he walked over and held out the chewed toffee to me, saying 'Here you are kid' However, my mum had drummed it into me to never eat anything that someone else had bitten into, so I shook my head and said 'No thanks'. He continued holding out and eventually one of the other boys noticed and came running over, saying 'If she doesn't want it, I'll have it'.
In 1944 my mother contracted tuberculosis and went into Robroyston Hospital where she remained until just after war ended. Nana (what I called my grandmother) visited her every afternoon, taking me with her. We went on a bus. T.B. patients were housed in sort of Nissen-type huts with verandas around them. Children were not allowed in so we had to sit in the gatehouse with the Gatehouse Keeper who made sure we all behaved ourselves. I remember an older boy showing me how to fold a hanky to make a rabbit and a Christmas cracker, which I can still do. Sometimes we played games like snakes and ladders, ludo and card games like snap. Visiting was only for an hour. My grandmother would take cakes and other food for my mum as food in the hospital was very basic. On my 5th birthday, I was taken up to where the huts were and was about 20 feet away from the door of the hut my mum was in when she came and stood by the open door and waved to me, shouting happy birthday. In 1945 mum came home clear of T.B. She had been in there about a year. It did leave a mark though. From then on, she had her own towel and facecloth. Also, her own cup. She seemed terrified of me contracting the dreaded disease as well, even though she was cured, and from then on, I was fed daily doses of cod liver oil in the winter and later she discovered a malt extract which came in a big jar. God knows how many of those I consumed over my childhood years. I only had to cough or sneeze in the winter and I would have my feet in a bowl of hot water with mustard powder in it. I would also have extra clothes on to make sure I kept warm when I was at school. If I did get a cold - well is was a Kayline poultice on my chest which I hated. The kayline was in a tin which was put into a pot of water to heat up, then was spread on a piece f old flannel and sort of slapped on to my chest. It was thick and gooey and in the morning it was horrible as it had gone cold and I would hurriedly peel it off.
(When I was in my late teens, I asked her what it had been like in the sanitorium and she related how you would wake up in the morning and look round the ward to see the empty beds of the people who had died during the night. During the day, patients in their beds would be wheeled out on to the veranda - seemingly the cold air was supposed to kill off the T.B. That is probably why years ago people used to be sent to Switzerland for a T.B. cure - if you could afford it, of course.)
Tenements were notoriously cold and damp. Although we had a fireplace in all our rooms only one was lit and that was the range in the kitchen which burned from early morning until the evening. In the winter when You walked out of the kitchen to a bedroom you would be hit with an icey blast. Nana, Mum and I always undressed for bed in the kitchen where it was warm. In the winter Nana would have on her nightdress, a pair of Pop's old woollen socks, a cardigan, pair of gloves and a woollen headscarf tied round her head. I sometimes wore an old cardigan over my pyjamas and mum did the same. We did have a stone water bottle which was usually in Pop's bed and Nana had somehow got hold of about 3 bricks which she used to put on the stove after tea so they heated up. They were then wrapped up in either an old towel or jumper and put into our beds an hour or so before we retired for the night.
I can remember my mum and aunt taking turns to stand on a kitchen chair and have a black line pencilled on to the back of their legs with an eyebrow pencil. We didn't have shampoo. We washed our hair with a brownish coloured soap called Derback. It had a strong disinfectant smell. In a tenement we only had a range which was kept burning all day and all the cooking and heating of water took place on it. It also had an oven on the left side for baking and roasting. So, to wash your hair you usually put a saucepan of cold water on to warm up and poured it into the basin in the sink, refilling it so you would have warm water for the rinse, with vinegar being added to the water in the basin. I had dark brown hair and the vinegar was supposed to give it a shine. Late in the 1940's mum one day brought in some sachets of shampoo she had bought in the chemist across the road and it was powdered shampoo which you put in a cup, added enough water to dissolve it then washed your hair.
When I was about 9 mum, bought me a toothbrush. Toothpaste came in the form of a powder in a round tin. Occasionally if we had run out, Nana would take my brush, open the little trap door in the range and scoop out some soot with my brush so I could clean my teeth.
My hair was washed once a week. Once I went to school, Sunday night was hair wash night and mum sitting going through my hair with a nit comb. We used to have the Nit Nurse come to the school several times a year and you dreaded getting a note from her to take home. Nana and mum didn't wash their hair so often, probably once a month. Same with baths - we only had an inside our inside lavatory. After the war, Pop used to go to Cranstonhill Baths on a Saturday morning as you could get a bath there with plenty of hot water for about a sixpence. Mum used to bath me in the sink but once I had outgrown that it was more of a wash-down.
Of course, we had rationing until 1953 but as a child I didn't really understand what it was all about. I only knew as a child I needed that wee square of paper to go to Wee Cathie's shop along the road to get my sweets. Dolly mixtures, jelly babies, jelly beans, various boiled sweets, bars of toffee but no chocolate. I was dying to get into my teens so that I could have my own sweetie coupons and not have to rely on my mum to give me mine.
I remember powdered egg which came in a round tin about 6" deep. I used to watch by grandmother spoon it out into whatever she was baking. Sometimes they used to save some sugar and make puff candy. We didn't have instant coffee. You could buy ground coffee but you needed a perculator to make it. There was a shop in Union Street called Ferguson’s and they had a big coffee grinding machine just inside the door so when you walked past the shop you got this gorgeous aroma of the coffee. However, not everyone could afford such a luxury but occasionally my grandmother would buy some - you went in and picked which type you wanted and it was then weighed and put into a thick paper bag and closed up. We had a perculator which looked like a tall roundish coffee pot and standing inside was this circular bowl completed perforated with holes where you poured the coffee. It would already have the water in, then it stood on the range and when it boiled the water travelled up and bubbled and over the coffee. It had a glass lid so you could this happening. Pop (as we called by grandfather) liked Camp coffee which was a liquid and came in a bottle similar to HP sauce. I was never allowed either of the two coffees being told I was too young. I did once sneak a sip of Pop's Camp coffee but thought it was horrible and never tried it again even when I was older.
Again, we also had coupons for clothes and lots of clever people searched their wardrobes for clothes to be recycled. My Aunt Kath got married in 1944 (just before mum went into hospital) - her husband was in the R.A.F. (not a pilot but something to do with security) and as, the war was drawing to an end, he unexpectantly got 2 weeks leave from his post in Cairo, so a wedding was hastily arranged. Mum managed to get me a dress from a second hand shop, hurriedly knitted me a bolero with wool from a ripped down jumper but shoes absolutely stumped her. Nothing fancy in the shops only what they called 'utility' so there I am in the wedding photos in my wedding ensemble wearing brown lace-up shoes!. I also have a paper doily with artificial flowers sewn on as my headdress. Luckily Kathleen secured the loan of a wedding dress that was circulating amongst prospective brides. That was the norm then. (I understand that our Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, had to save her clothing coupons for her wedding dress.
Mum went back to work not long after she came home and of course the war was over now, Nana shopped every day, we didn't have fridges or freezers. Most things we bought were cooked and eaten that day. Dinner was always in the middle of the day with tea just after five and always a supper in the evening - maybe toasted cheese, or if Nana remembered a baked potato - she would put the potatoes in the oven after tea and let them bake for a couple of hours. However, Nana was a good cook and I can never remember being hungry. She cooked good solid food that filled you up.
I went to Kent Road school and used to take a tram to get there. It was only about a fifteen minute ride. For some reason my mother didn't want me to go to Washington Street school which would have been about a fifteen minute walk along to Anderson Cross. Kent Road school had two buildings, with the infant school being the building at the back. The headmaster was Mr. McConachie and he walked round the school in his long black gown carrying his tawse. He was fanatical about singing and you would be in your class half way through a lesson and he would barge in and tell the teacher to bring us out into the hall where the rest of the infant classes were. We would sit down and the piano in the corner would be rolled forward and the music teacher would be instructed to play with us singing. I can't remember what we sang. Every year there would be a school concert at St. Andrew's hall and Mr. McConnachie was always on the lookout for pupils who had any musical aptitude or could dance.
My teacher in Infants was Miss McGrouther and she remained with us for the three years we were in infants although we would move classes. In my second year in Infants we were taught to knit by her - she would give us a slip of paper to take home telling our parents what material we had to take in. We started with a string dishcloth. I am left handed but that wasn't taken into account and I was shown and taught to knit like everyone else. (although I used my left hand for writing, I was never told to use my right hand) Next came a striped scarf knitted in red and navy. Then we were knitting socks using four needles. We were a mixed class but I can't remember if the boys had to knit as well.
Occasionally we would have to line up in the hall and were each handed n apple and an orange. Britain used to receive fruit from abroad - Canada I think which was solely for the school children. When I moved up into the Senior part of Kent Road, we lined up one day and each got a banana. We had never seen one before and weren't quite sure what it was. I took mine home and ate it there.
To shop we went toward the central bridge past Hope Street - I can't remember all the shops which were under the bridge - first a R.S. McColl sweet shop, further along a shop that sold tartan goods, another shop umbrellas and shoes and then on the left near the end was an entrance into the station. On the left was a big fish monger/poulterer. On the left window was a display of the fish on offer and the right hand window was poultry and game. I used to cover my eyes as I didn't like seeing the dead animals with all their fur and feathers on. On the right side was another R.S.McColl but this was a fruit and vegetable shop. Once out of the bridge on the corner was Burtons the Tailors and Union Street. Then this was a very busy shopping area. Up Union Street past the Singer Sewing Machine shop was Massey's, general grocers where most of the shopping was done. When you went in you could either turn left or right and walk right round the store. We usually went left and joined the queue - you had to queue in all the shops - dried items like lentils, peas, sugar etc. came in bulk to the store but were bagged up 'in the back'. Sugar sold in all shops were in dark blue thick bags. Nothing was pre-sliced. If you wanted bacon you told them how much you wanted and it was sliced for you and you could tell them how thick you wanted the slices.. Nana developed a little trick of asking the shop assistant to slice her bread for her - it was many years before we eventually got bread all sliced up and wrapped. It was a dedicated assistant on that particular counter and all the assistants wore white coats.
Our butcher shop was in Argyle Street on the block to the left of our house but across the road. My job each school day was to go to the dairy which was on the same side but across Robertson Street and buy milk and morning rolls for breakfast. We didn't have traffic lights on our corner but a policeman on point duty. It was the same policeman all through my childhood and he would be there from 8.30 until just after five o'clock, Monday to Friday. Another policemen would relieve him for a break in the morning and afternoon plus longer at dinner time. In the winter, he used to come up to our house and either have a tea or sometimes a cup of cocoa and toast. His name was Stanley. Sometimes if I was a bit late going for the tram to school and I could see the tram was just coming out of the Central bridge I would rush up to him and ask him to hold up the tram to let me run to the stop which was on the far end at the next corner. And he would stop the traffic and direct the traffic coming down Wellington Street allowing me to get to the tram stop.
Where I lived, you never saw children out playing with toys. When I went out to play I usually took a ball to bounce against the wall. I was only allowed out to play during the summer school holidays. Sometimes if it was a nice day, we would walk to Kelvingrove Park which took us nearly an hour and have a picnic. Our picnic consisted of whoever was luckily enough to scrounge an empty bottle from the house and fill it with water from the tap. Then we each had to sort of scrounge a jam piece to eat. On the way back from the park we'd stop off at a shop and hand in the bottle and get a penny for it which was redeemed for probably a strip of liquorice or something to share with the others.
Well, I don't know if I have written too much. It has stirred up a lot of memories. I am now 81. In 1960, my then husband and I moved down here where obviously I still reside.
From Evelyn Humberstone
