No.8

Is this our very own Coat of Arms?

When we began the task of researching our family history, we had a lot of help from other folk, including quite a few who lived abroad, who had already gathered information about the Jaaps.

Among those people there was a correspondent from Germany who told us about the Coat of Arms. He had read about it in a local newspaper in 1931. He believed that red signifies love, blue means loyalty and gold is faith. He suggested that the twelve segments could represent the twelve apostles, the mitre meaning holy power and the breastplate worldly power.

He mentioned that he intended to visit "the heraldic place" in Berlin to find out more, but that was the last we heard from him. Of course there are many examples of these things which are not authentic; they are actually family crests and ours is probably one of those.

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PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES

In the early 1930s it was a rare occurrence to see an aeroplane flying over. If one did appear, we children would stop our games, gaze up to the sky and chant “An airy-plane, an airy-plane!”

A few years later we had the opportunity to see planes in the air and on the ground, when Sir Alan Cobham’s Air Display came to a field just outside our town. What excitement! There were stunt pilots performing all sorts of clever manoeuvres, including looping the loop, the falling leaf, sweeping down to pick up a cloth from the ground, and some brave airmen doing a wing-walk. I envied the lucky children who went up in a plane that day.

But my turn came later. We were on holiday at Prestwick where small aircraft were making short flights from the sands. I expect I pestered my father into taking me up. I’m not sure if he enjoyed the experience - my mother watching from the promenade certainly didn’t. Needless to say, I was thrilled!

Our pilot was a young girl, Winnie Drinkwater.  Not so long ago, I was surprised to learn that she had later become famous in aviation circles. She died in 1996 and The Herald (Glasgow), announcing her death, reported that in 1930 she had become the youngest aircraft pilot in the world and that she was the first woman to fly the Glasgow to London service. The plane shown here is similar to the one we flew in; room for two passengers sitting together and the pilot in a separate cockpit behind.

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In those days travelling by train was always exciting for children. Many folk who worked in Glasgow used the railway rather than buses, and there was a frequent service from our town.

When we went on holiday it was by train. A few days before we set off, a railway lorry would call to collect our luggage, usually a big hamper, and, when we arrived at our destination, our hamper would be there waiting for us at our digs.

There was a downside to rail travel however. Smoke and soot from the engine could penetrate the carriages and you could arrive at your destination with a dirty face!

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In those far-off days there was very little motor traffic in our town. Most vans and lorries were horse-driven and there were very few cars.

Car engines had to be started by means of a handle inserted into the radiator grill. On each side of the vehicle, stretching between the front and the back wheels, was the “running board” which you stepped on when boarding and alighting. There were no indicators and the driver had to use certain hand signals through an open window to show his intentions. And of course there was the horn which produced that honking sound!

I presume car brakes weren’t all that reliable, for I often saw cars parked on an incline, with a brick placed in front of the nearside front wheel.

This is a picture of a 1915 Vauxhall. You’ll notice the spare wheel at the driver’s side.

Taxis were rarely seen. I imagine they were used only for weddings and funerals and I’m pretty sure that on such occasions most people would walk.

There were fire engines of course. I don’t remember seeing police cars, though there was the "Black Maria", a big black vehicle that took you off to jail if you misbehaved. And there was another vehicle from which we children hid - the dreaded “fever van," - a common sight in the 1930s when the infectious disease scarlet fever was rife.

As time went on the number of vehicles using the streets continued to rise, it became clear that certain “rules of the road” would be needed.

So it was that in 1931 the government issued a booklet which detailed instructions and regulations for road traffic. The illustrations it contained are rather amusing and here are a few from that very first edition of THE HIGHWAY CODE.

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A Skeleton in our Cupboard?

I can't remember the source of the the following story, but it was checked and found to be true. In 1775 a Mrs Japp (sic) was a well-known proprietor of a certain type of establishment in Edinburgh. It was in that year that the “Ranger’s Impartial List of the Ladies of Pleasure” was published, compiled by James Tytler, the editor of the second edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The book which included a pull-out map gave names and addresses, and Mrs Japp’s place seems to have been highly recommended. (If you've £43.49 to spare, the book can be obtained from Amazon)

Apparently Edinburgh had around 100 such houses at that time and by the 19th century that figure had doubled.

As far as we know, none of our ancestors lived in the Edinburgh area, but if there is a link to our Jaaps, we can always say that she was a Jaap by marriage!!!

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GALLERY

My Parents

This photo of my father was probably taken in 1914  
when he joined the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders

This is likely to have been taken around that time. 
My mother is on the left with a friend

Probably 1923 the year before they married

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Finally, I just had to include this.

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THE NEXT UPDATE WILL BE ON SATURDAY 3rd JUNE

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No.7

What does this remind you of?

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I've already shown this photo elsewhere in the scrapblog. It's where we lived in Regent Square. The terrace, along with many other properties in that part of Lenzie, was based on designs by the architect Alexander "Greek" Thomson (1817-1875). A photograph of part of the terrace was used by the Scottish Field in an article about Thomson by the broadcaster and writer Maurice Lindsay. 

When we first took occupancy there, we didn't have a good start with one of our neighbours. It was Jean who met the husband, a retired Army major and Conservative Party agent who complained that my piano-playing was upsetting his wife. (No funny remarks, please.) In fact they turned out to be quite nice folk and our family continued with the music - piano, organ, guitars, recorders, viola, clarinet and bassoon!!!

Our neighbour on the other side was Thelma Barlow the actress who played Mavis Riley in the TV soap “Coronation Street.” She was very pleasant and on one occasion when Jean locked herself out Mavis came to the rescue by supplying a ladder and a friend to climb in an upstairs window. 

When we moved in 1983, the new occupants to our house were the Breslin family. At that time the mother was a local librarian but much later she became known as the award-winning author of teenage and children's fiction Theresa Breslin.

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Jean and I were married in 1954. Our first house was a 3-apartment in Loch Road, Kirkintilloch. Ten minutes walk in the direction of Lenzie led to Woodilee Hospital, better known locally as “the asylum”.

We found that quite a few of our friends from outwith the district had reservations about living so near such an institution. Of course I had always been used to seeing patients out walking and knew that the more serious cases were kept locked up.

One of the patients I knew quite well. Peter King was a very good dulcimer player and appeared regularly as a solo artiste at local entertainments. The dulcimer is a stringed instrument belonging to the zither family. The strings are struck with two handheld hammers.

Peter kept a little notebook in which he recorded every tune he could play plus every one of his engagements since the 1920s. His big moment of fame came when he performed on a early STV show hosted by Bill Tennant. It was said that Peter could have been discharged from the hospital any time, but his family wouldn’t agree to “sign him out”. 

Some of the patients just appeared to be eccentric. There was one man who seemed to be very wealthy for he possessed an astonishing range of expensive suits; sometimes he appeared in full highland dress, sometimes in cowboy attire. I remember that he used to visit the small shop near us and buy a large number of loaves to feed the birds, (though I may be getting him confused with another patient.)

Built in 1875 the Woodilee grew to be a very big place (in 1930 it had 1250 beds) with its own successful farm. When the hospital staff held their annual dance in the ballroom, there was always a tremendous rush by the general public to obtain tickets. I often played at functions there, and for a couple of years provided the music for the staff’s pantomime in the Town Hall.

As time went on there were big changes in mental health with more and more patients able to live in the community. So the Woodilee gradually treated fewer people until it finally closed in 2001. 

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The “Total TV Guide” magazine publishes letters from viewers, and the following, which appeared in the 14th-20th March issue in 2009, was the Prize Letter of the week -

“Being a dog, I don’t watch much TV. However, I loved Five’s Mr and Mrs Wolf. I’m a basenji, a breed dating back to 3,000 BC, and I really respect my wolf ancestors. I also admire Shaun and Helen for their courage in getting up close and personal with those wonderful beasts. I’m not able to bark, but I was able to howl along with them. I hope we get an update soon.”

The sender was Kindu Kodi Sonovason (plain Cody to the rest of the pack) of Macduff in Aberdeenshire, and the Editor had added “Cody’s owner Lesley Farrell has asked for the £50 prize to go to Bark (sic) a charity that re-homes dogs.”

Yes, that was Lesley our youngest daughter who was a great lover of horses and dogs, and especially basenjis.

Cody always claimed a comfy chair

I suspect that Lesley wrote the following -

CODY’S MANTRA

If I like it, it’s mine.

If it’s in my mouth it’s mine.

If I played with it EVER, it’s mine.

If I can take it from you, it’s mine.

If it’s mine, it can never be yours.

Even if it looks like yours, it’s mine.

If you’ve had it, put it down, it’s mine.

If I chew it, all the bits are mine.

If it was yours, get over it

Because once it’s broken, IT’S YOURS!

After Lesley's death, Cody was re-homed by the charity mentioned above. BARRK is the Banff and Aberdeenshire Rescue and Rehoming Kennels organisation  barrk.co.uk

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I expect everyone recognised the silhouette of Mickey Mouse's head.

He was created by the Walt Disney studio in 1928 as a replacement for Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. The original choice of name for the character was Mortimer Mouse, but Walt's wife persuaded him to change it to Mickey Mouse. One piece of information astonished me - 45,000 drawings were involved in producing a six and a half minute cartoon!!!

A good many years ago, United Artists proudly announced to America that nationwide there would be a special school holiday to celebrate Mickey Mouse's birthday. 

But there was a catch - in that particular year October 1st was a Saturday. The rotters!

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GALLERY

Lesley, Margaret and Fiona - ice cream in the garden

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Fiona, Lesley and Margaret - Jean's graduation 1968

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Fiona and Margaret with Lesley at her wedding to her first husband Derek Firth 18/9/1982

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At Lesley's house in Macduff

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THE NEXT POST No.8 WILL BE ON SATURDAY 20th MAY

A new blog

THE POETRY OF THOMAS HARDY

is now online

http://thepoetryofthomashardy.blogspot.com

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No.6

When I was a young boy, Easter wasn’t really important in Scottish life. Holy Week wasn’t observed and as for Good Friday - that was the day we got hot cross buns! Easter Monday was the Spring holiday in Glasgow, but in many other towns it was either the Monday before or the Monday after.

On Sunday morning of course we attended church. That was certainly an important occasion because, apart from the bright hymns we sang, Easter Sunday was the day when all the women and girls turned out in new hats, dresses, etc. And I’m sure there was quite a bit of rivalry between certain ladies!

It was just recently I learned that by the end of the 16th century it had become the fashion to wear new clothes at Easter. Much later, Poor Robin, an 18th century almanac maker is recorded as saying -

At Easter let your clothes be new

Or else be sure you will it rue.

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When I saw this squirrel stationary on the telephone wire, I dashed inside to get my camera. Surprisingly, it was still there when I returned and I was delighted with the result.

That was in 2009. Since then, we usually have a little squirrel around during the summer months and very often he will perform the tight-rope act.

The one who visited us in 2015 was quite tame. When I was in the garden, it didn't dart away but would stay put, munching happily while keeping a firm eye on me. 

On one occasion I decided I would see how near I could get to the little creature. Moving very, very slowly, I gradually advanced towards him. When he was almost at my feet, I began to lower one hand and I was astonished when he stopped chewing and sat motionless looking up at me. I reached down and gently touched him and ever so slowly stroked his head.

It was a wonderful experience. Perhaps if I had been a real nature lover, I might have tried to develop the relationship, but the thought never entered my mind. I now think of what I missed.

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The Tragedy of the S.S.Daphne

On 3rd July 1883 there occurred in Glasgow what many believed was the worst accident ever on the River Clyde.

The launching of a ship was always a great event attracting many sight-seers, and this occasion was no exception. Some of the tradesmen were still working on the vessel when the launch took place and others had come on board just to experience the thrill of it.

Going down the launching pad, the ship seemed to keel over and on striking the water capsized and sank immediately. The death toll was 124 men and boys, and some families lost both father and son.

Among those drowned was a relative of ours, John Murrie. He was in his mid-twenties and on 9th June the previous year he had married into our Graham family when he took as his wife Isabella Graham (1852-1936).

Although the subsequent inquiry failed to find any criminal negligence, recommendations were made which led to important safety regulations in shipbuilding.

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Primary One in Lairdsland School 1929

I’m in the middle row, 4th from Left. (Notice the butterfly?) On my left is Johnny Lang - we came in contact with each other very often through our music, he played trumpet and was associated with the Players Club. In the front row 4th from the left is Archie Little who played violin in our music group at Lenzie Academy.

And here are a few memories of my time at primary school.

I REMEMBER that in the wintertime we went to school wrapped up in layers of clothing. Boys always wore caps and short trousers; in those days we had to wait till we were 15 or 16 before we got long trousers.

I REMEMBER that, if there was torrential rain in the morning, the school would close at lunchtime and we got a half-holiday. In such weather the boys would cram into the playground shelter at the morning interval, stand up on the long wooden bench and stamp their feet in time to their repeated cry of “We want a hauf!” (a half-day).

I REMEMBER that sometimes a pupil would have an epileptic fit in the classroom. The child was usually writhing on the floor, while the rest of us sat in awed silence. I don’t recall the teacher attending to the victim - the fit passed quite quickly and the lesson was resumed.

I REMEMBER that a good number of my class-mates came from much poorer homes than ours. Those boys were all dressed alike, in trousers and jackets of a coarse brown material which had been provided by the School Board.

I REMEMBER that “the basket class” met in the church hall across the road. This was for children who were considered to be uneducable and included a whole range of cases from just a bit simple to mentally defective. They passed their time doing handwork and, although part of our school, there was no contact between them and us.

I REMEMBER there was an important event which hadn't happened before. The headmaster visited our class. Now, I’ve no idea what he spoke to us about for, like the rest of the class, I was sitting shaking in fear of this great man.
When he finished, he turned to the pupils in the back row and asked the first one, “How long is the River Clyde?" There was silence! We were horrified when he produced his strap and belted the boy. He directed the same question to the next pupil, and again, when no answer was forthcoming, he used his strap. And so he continued along the row, gradually getting nearer to where I sat, trying to appear invisible. No one knew the answer and the punishments continued till it was my turn. But - miracle of miracles! He didn’t ask me. Instead he told us the answer, and chided us for not having paid attention to his little talk.  (I still don't know how long the Clyde is).

The River Clyde near Abington

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P.S. The Clyde is 109 miles long.

P.P.S. Thinking back to the episode with the headmaster, I realise as an adult that my escape was no miracle. He would be aware that my aunt was a teacher on his staff.

THE NEXT UPDATE FOR THE SCRAPBLOG 

WILL BE ON SATURDAY 6th MAY

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No.5

This is a photo of my sister and me.

A few years ago one of her grand-daughters was given a school project on the subject of World War 2 and how it had affected ordinary people. My sister set down her memories and produced a very interesting article on the subject which of course was written with her grand-daughter in mind. This is it -

GRANDMA’S STORY

I was eleven years old when the Second World War started. Great Britain declared war on Germany on 3rd September 1939. It was a dreadful time but I was too young to fully appreciate that. In due course we were all issued with gas-masks, which we had to carry with us at all times. They were very hot and uncomfortable to wear, even for the short time when we had gas-mask practice in school. Thankfully, we never had any gas attacks. Then, we were issued with ration books, with coupons inside which had to be handed over in the shops when we bought food. This was so that everyone would get their fair share. Finally, we were given Identity Cards, each with our personal number on it. Mine was SJQA614.

Here's a photo of a family wearing their gas masks -

Soon men were having to go into the Army, Air Force or Navy, unless their job at home was important to the war effort, or their health was not good. The men from Kirkintilloch where I lived were away in other parts of the country training for war, while our town was full of soldiers from elsewhere billetted in schools, church halls, etc. Our house over-looked St. Ninian’s School playing-fields, where they had their physical training - it was called "square-bashing" - and designed to make them very fit. All this made our quiet little country town a very different place.

There was fear of German planes coming over and dropping bombs. The town of Clydebank was thought to be in danger because of the ship-yards there, so it was decided to move all the children away to safer places and Kirkintilloch was among the areas chosen. Thousands of children arrived in our town. They were brought to the Town Hall, carrying their bags of clothing, and with labels pinned on their coats showing their names and home addresses. The people of the town had to report to the Town Hall to be allocated a child or children. My mother was given a family of three - Peggy was about twelve , Jack ten, and William five years old. We had no spare beds, so my mother put a mattress in a corner of the living-room, on the floor, and all three slept there. After a week, their parents came to visit, and decided to take them back home. What I remember particularly is they had not lived in a house with a bath before. Gradually, many others went back to Clydebank, as there had been no bombing at that point, though some families stayed in Kirkintilloch permanently.

We lived in the house on the left from 1935 till the 1950s

Ours was one of six houses in a small cul-de-sac. They had all been built by Mr. Fletcher, a local builder. He lived in the largest one, built on a steep hillside, which gave him a big cellar. When war came, he decided to make this cellar into an air-raid shelter, for all the residents in the avenue, and one other lady. He fitted it out with comfortable seats, a couple of bunks, lighting, heating, tea-making facilities and even a toilet.

The air-raid siren was on the roof of the Police Station, in the centre of the town. It made a loud wailing sound, which could be heard for miles, first a warning sound, then the "all-clear" if the danger was past. So, throughout the war, we went to the shelter when the siren sounded, always at night, and having to get out of bed and get dressed.

Our house looked away over to Bishopbriggs, where there were anti-aircraft guns, which would fire at enemy planes. During air-raids it was unsafe to be out because shrapnel from the guns would rain down - great lumps of jagged metal - these would be lying about the streets the next morning. I wish I had kept some, just for interest. I never knew of anyone getting hurt by the shrapnel, but my father’s friend had a pony and trap, and a piece came through the roof of the shed and killed the pony.

In 1941 Clydebank was bombed two nights running, 439 planes came over and dropped 1000 bombs. The town was a ruin, lots of people killed. Our local Fire Brigade went to help put out the fires, some of which still burned after a fortnight. Grandpa Green’s father was a bus-driver at the time driving in that area. One bomb went down the funnel of a ship lying in the Clyde, but didn’t explode. Of course, we were lucky to be safe in our shelter, but no sleep for the noise of gun-fire.

During the war there was the "black-out" - no lights allowed to shine out of windows or doors, everywhere heavy curtains drawn at night, and no street lights. Can you imagine it? Cars had very faint lights that would not be seen from the air.

So that enemy parachutists who landed wouldn't know where they were, the names of streets and roads and signposts were removed.

This was something we didn't know about at that time. Part of the Fletcher home, where we had our shelter, was actually a secret radio station from 1940, and two Polish officers lived there. I remember them, but never seemed to wonder what they were doing there. (John comments - "Perhaps this sounds a very unlikely tale, but I can assure you that it's true.)

During the war years I used to knit scarves and socks for the Red Cross who passed them on to the Forces. Some knitters put their name and address on the finished item but I never did.

This is a photo of me and John probably in 1943. He is in the uniform of the ATC (Air Training Corps) a voluntary organisation for boys not old enough for the armed services.

The war lasted for six years so I was quite grown-up when it was all over. John was in the Royal Air Force for two years. Young men on reaching a certain age had to do National Service.

This was Grandma’s war. Nothing bad happened to our family. Sadly my mother’s Canadian cousin, who was a Spitfire pilot, was killed in action.

And life would never be the same for lots of people . . .

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This final picture gives us some idea of what was happening all over the country on Evacuation Day. The photo was taken at Lime Street Station in Liverpool.

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THE NEXT POST HERE WILL BE ON SATURDAY APRIL 22nd 

No.4
In October 1939, when the country was still coming to terms with the reality that we were at war with Germany, there was an important broadcast by Rob Hudson, the Minister for Agriculture. He explained that our farmers could produce just 30% of the nation's food, but if gardens could be dug over and utilised 25% of the vegetables required could be provided.

Very soon there were posters everywhere publicising the idea. And it was successful - surprisingly successful. Lawns were dug up and potatoes, carrots, turnips and cabbages were planted. Public parks, railway embankments, golf clubs and tennis courts all contributed to the project. And on Windsor Great Park wheat was grown. Some folk, recalling the days when keeping hens was popular, revived the custom and even rabbits and pigs made an appearance.

Dig for Victory was a great success and by 1945 approximately 75% of our food was being produced in the U.K.

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Lake Geneva

Some years ago Jean and I had a holiday at Evian on Lake Geneva. We were staying in a big Centre which attracted a lot of young people of different nationalities. One day I was approached by a German woman who explained in broken English that she and her friends had been listening to me playing the piano. Apparently they were musicians and they wondered if I would like to play with them. Of course I readily agreed and we fixed a time for our get-together.

The three of them would be in their 50s, she played violin and the two men cello and clarinet. Language was quite a problem, but we got on well together, and the music which was the grand hotel type sounded fine. I discovered that her late husband had been a professional violinist, and every year they had holidayed at Evian, along with the other musicians.

Frau Hamza (I can’t recall her Christian name) was a “touchy feely” person and a bit eccentric. She kept saying “thank you, sir” and “excuse me, sir” to me and of course I told her that she was to call me John. So, for the rest of the holiday I was “Sir John”!!!

One morning she and I were practising together, making up a programme which the quartet would perform before the other residents. When we had finished, she said to me “Kom to my house,” (she meant her room) “I vant to give you cuddle.” Wow!!! That WAS a shock! I don’t think I said anything for a moment, and then the penny dropped. She had used the French word “cadeau”, she had a gift for me! It was a CD by her late husband’s group The Georg Hamza Ensemble.

So I didn’t get a cuddle, but at least I was “Sir John” for a few days!

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I've been thinking back to the street where I lived as a child. 

Bisected halfway down by Oxford Street, the upper part of Kerr Street where we lived consisted of well-kept tenements, six private houses, a primary school, and a church.

Royal Terrace where we lived till 1936

My pal Andrew lived in one of the larger tenement flats across the road. He was one of a big family, and each time I called to ask if he was coming out to play, his mother would go off to fetch him. That was when his siblings one by one would peep out from the kitchen door to inspect me, each head appearing at a different level.

The lower part of the street, which stretched down to the main road, had a picture house, a bus garage, and a small hall which was used by the British Legion. Quite a few of the houses there were of the room and kitchen type with outside toilets, and the families who occupied them seemed to have a great number of children. I was inside one of those houses only once, and that was when I was teenager. I had to deliver a message to a semi-professional musician who lived there with his wife and 3 or 4 children. Where they all slept I don’t know, but Bob’s double bass took up valuable space in the bedroom!!!

Just a few doors along a woman ran a “sweetie” shop in the living room of her house. And I'm remembering the one-legged shoe repairer whose little shop and workplace was there. We children had a morbid interest in the fact that he had just one leg and got about on crutches. He was a member of the local Salvation Army band, he taught his two sons the trumpet and when they grew up both were well-known locally as dance band musicians. The younger one for a while worked in London with some of the country’s top dance bands.

This is the primary school I attended. 

Opened in 1875, it finally closed last year.

I must write a bit more about our picture house. Of the two cinemas in the town, the one in our street was the least attractive. The films shown there were mostly unknown and the brightness of the screen had the habit of dimming every twenty minutes or so.

In those days it took years for new films to come to a local picture house. However that didn’t stop many folk being enthusiastic cinema-goers, and, with each picture house changing their programme every two days, it was possible to see a different show six nights a week!!!

Most children in those days went to the Saturday matinee, but that was not for us. There were two reasons - first, my mother’s upbringing as a Baptist gave her serious doubts about picture houses and theatres, but more important than that was the terrible tragedy which occurred in Paisley on the afternoon of December 31st 1929.

Nine hundred children between the ages of eighteen months and twelve years had gathered in the Glen Cinema, when a fire broke out in the projection box. It was quickly brought under control but as smoke filled the hall panic ensued. Some of the exits couldn’t be opened and tragically 69 children were crushed to death in the stampede.

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I'm remembering that at primary school we learned the multiplication tables by repeating them endlessly until they became fixed in our minds. Spelling too was taught that way and the whole class in unison would chant “eye enn - in, eye enn - in, ay tee - at, ay tee - at,” and so on. There used to be a lot of suppressed giggles when we came to “up.”

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Drawings of this little man peeping over a wall were to be found everywhere during the Second World War and its popularity spread all over the world.

It has been suggested that the idea came from the character called Chad, who had been created by a British cartoonist in 1938. However its popularity seemed to begin in America and, like so many other novelties, was exported to the UK and beyond.

The drawings in chalk, paint, ink - in fact anything that would make a mark on walls, lamp posts, street signs and posters, would turn up in the most unusual places and continued right into the 1950s.

There were other names by which he was known - Clem, Smoe, the Jeep, Private Snooks, and in Australia the caption was “Foo was here.”

I suppose part of the fun of “Kilroy was here” lay in the fact that it was so easy to draw - even a small child could make a good attempt at it. Why not have a go yourself? Perhaps you could try it out on your neighbour’s filthy car using your finger. But make sure you don't get caught!

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THE NEXT POST WILL BE ON SATURDAY 8th APRIL

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No.3

I expect it will be only older people who recognise the above. This product, no longer available, used to be a popular remedy for indigestion and heartburn. We have often wondered if there is any family connection with the proprietors, but a search on the internet could find nothing at all about the firm.

I remember that many years ago John Jaap Chemists had a shop in Buchanan Street, Glasgow, but again we don't know anything about their family. The last record of the shop's existence is 1963.  

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Jaap is the Dutch equivalent of James or Jacob, but we were a bit peeved to learn that in South Africa the word is an offensive term for a country bumpkin.  A South African living in Scotland once told Fiona that "jaapie" is an Afrikaans word meaning monkey-like. In old Scots language the word joppe means a fool.

There are many variations of the name - in the past our family has included Japps and Jopes, but Scottish records also show Jape, Jappy, Jopp and Jupp.

Our family tree goes back to Walter Jaap, born in 1698 in the county of Fife in Scotland. Many of our Jaaps emigrated in the second half of the 19th century and others followed later on. Today their descendants can be found in America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and the Cayman Islands.

We always believed that our origins would probably have been in Holland, but some years ago this comment from a German appeared on a Rootsweb Message Board. "It's possible that the German Jaaps have Scots roots, for there was a significant British/Scottish settlement along the Baltic Coast of Germany in the 17th and 18th Centuries."

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SAMUEL JOHNSON

What has the Joshua Reynold painting got to do with this blog? Nothing at all! In 1773 when Dr. Johnson was touring the Hebrides with James Boswell he was presented with the freedom of Aberdeen by Lord Provost James Jopp.

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In the 1930s my sister and I always enjoyed our regular visits to our maternal grandparents’ house. There was always plenty to do there, and very often one or two aunts would be willing to play with us.

Going to the other grandparents’ house was a different matter however. There we sat, unseen and unheard, till, probably at my father’s suggestion (he was very proud of our accomplishments), we were asked to give them a tune on the piano. That done, we would revert to our role as silent guests.

I used to sit there gazing at a strange object on the mantlepiece. I could just make out the words "Ye maunna tramp on the Scotch thistle, laddie" but couldn't figure out what that meant.

This photo which I found on the internet  looks exactly like the statuette that puzzled me.

A family firm of monumental sculptors founded by James Gibson took part in the 1888 Kelvingrove International Exhibition where they showed their large-scale sculpture "Ye Maunna Tramp on the Scotch Thistle, Laddie." Carved in marble, the statue depicted an elderly man removing a thistle thorn from a boy’s foot.

The sculpture was such a great success that replicas in imitation bronze were made and sold in Gibson’s showroom for the princely sum of ten shillings each.

I remember that there were two super things in Grandma Jaap's house which would have kept two children occupied for while, and I’ve no doubt that, if I had had the courage to ask for them, they would have been forthcoming.

The first resembled a pair of binoculars, but, when you inserted one of a series of coloured cards into a slot on the side and looked through the lenses, a wonderful real-life picture could be seen. and the other was a glove puppet with a monkey's head. Great!

What happened to those desirable objects, I don’t know. It’s true that I did acquire one precious item from that house, a book which I cherished for many years. It was the Chatterbox Annual for 1916 which had probably been given to one of my uncles. They would be children then.

Unlike any of the later children’s Annuals, this was a very big book (some years they had more than 400 pages) which attempted to be both educational and entertaining. The illustrations were excellent, and this particular edition had a famous painting which fascinated me - “The Boyhood of Raleigh” by John Everett Millais. I hadn’t heard of Raleigh then, but I used to invent stories to explain all the pictures, and I was sure that this one was about Treasure Island.

The Boyhood of Raleigh

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Finally, still in the 1930s, here a are a few of the rhymes children recited during their street games.

Yokie pokie,

Yankie fun,

How do you like

Your tatties done?

First in brandy,

Then in rum,

That's how I like

My tatties done.

Ma maw’s a millionaire,

Blue eyes and curly hair,

Sittin’ among the eskimos

Playin’ a game o’ dominoes,

Eentie-teentie halliegolum,

Pitchin’ totties up the lum,

Santa Claus got wan on his bum, 
Eentie-teentie halliegolum.

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THE NEXT POST WILL BE ON
SATURDAY 25th MARCH

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No.2

This card was sent to me by the Sunday School of the church my parents attended on my first birthday in November 1926.

The Christian Church didn’t always approve of observing birthdays and the rejection of celebrating them continued right down to the 4th Century. So many customs and traditions had their roots in paganism and that was the case with birthdays. 

An article from the German magazine Schwabische Zeitung in April 1981 explains that the origins of celebrating birthdays “lie in the realm of magic and religion”. It continues - “The custom of offering congratulations, presenting gifts and celebrating, complete with lighted candles, in ancient times were meant to protect the birthday celebrant from the demons and to ensure his security for the coming year.”

Both the Romans and the Greeks believed that everyone had a spirit who attended the birth and watched over him or her for life, and birthday celebrations were partly in honour of that guardian angel or spirit. There was a special significance about sacrificial fire and lighted tapers, which explains why we have candles on our birthday cakes today.

Were birthday parties common in my childhood? I don’t think so, for I can’t remember my sister or me having any or going to any. The only children’s party I recall (apart from those held by the Sunday School) was one which our Aunt Frances had for her piano pupils, and all I can remember is that I refused to join in a kissing game and went in a huff.

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In the 1970s my parents had a caravan at Callander and we have happy memories of holidays and week-ends in and around the town.

In November, 2008 Jean and I spent an enjoyable few days there, and were glad to find that much of Callander remains the same - the River Teith with the swans and ducks, the mound where Margaret and Fiona used to sit playing their guitars and attracting the attention of interested boys, the main street with the big Dreadnought Hotel, numerous gift shops and cafes. And of course looking down on the town, there's the imposing Ben Ledi with a little snow on its summit.

Some things have changed of course - the church with the tall steeple is now a Rob Roy museum, the Ben Ledi café is now a fish and chip shop, and the little sweet shop where we bought "soor plooms" is no more.

We were most fortunate in choosing that particular week-end, for up till then the weather had been continuously bad, and just the week before our visit there had been quite a bit of flooding when the Teith overflowed.

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I don't think many folk will know the identity of the man pictured here. And, if they find his signature legible, may still be wondering.

He was a top Scottish comedian in the 1920s and into the earlier years of the 30s. TOMMY LORNE was born Hugh Gallagher Corcoran in Kirkintilloch in 1890.  For his act he wore white make-up, boots that were too large, a jacket that was too short, a Glengarry and a very short kilt. I would be about 10 years old when he died and I remember the day of his funeral when he was buried in the local cemetery.

Quite a few artistes from our town became famous. The singer Moira Anderson was a young girl when she joined The Kirkintiloch Junior Choir, a group of singers who become popular on the radio and at their concerts  around the country. Two other professional singers had been choir members - Patricia Purcell who joined Sadler's Wells in 1961 and Joan Summers was another singer who made her name in the operatic world. One of the boys in the choir Alasdair Graham became a concert pianist. I remember him - a little pale-faced boy who seemed to spend all his time practising and any time I passed his house there was always the sound of scales and arpeggios.

ALASDAIR GRAHAM

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Q - WHEN IS AN EGG NOT AN EGG?  

A - WHEN IT'S DRIED

During the Second World War there was a shortage of fresh eggs and the government tried to solve the problem by introducing dried egg powder. The public were not at all keen on the idea and the Ministry of Food began a publicity campaign. 

Dried eggs are the complete hen's eggs, both the white and the yolk, dried to a powder. Nothing is added. Nothing but the moisture and shell is taken away, leaving the eggs as wholesome, digestible and as full of nourishment and health-promoting value as if you had just taken the eggs new laid from the nest.

Yes, it sounds all right, doesn't it? However, a great many folk weren't convinced. Margaret and Fiona won't be surprised to learn that I couldn't tell the difference!

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P.S. Fiona was looking through the website of our local newspaper today and found a reference to the operatic singer Patricia Purcell mentioned above. I was astonished to find that I was the accompanist when she sang at a church concert in Lenzie. I have no recollection of that. I suppose at that time she was just another singer.

THE NEXT UPDATE HERE WILL BE ON

SATURDAY 11th MARCH

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