The Rose

by Amanda McBroom  b.8/9/47

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed.

Some say love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love, it is a hunger,

An endless aching need.

I say love, it is a flower,

And you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance.

It's the one who won't be taken,

Who cannot seem to give,

And the soul afraid of dying

That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long,

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong,

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose.

The above poem was added to the blog on Tuesday 5th February 2019

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This is a photo of a tenement back court in Springburn, Glasgow taken some time in the 1950s. The building in the foreground is the wash house.

The wash house was an important facility for tenement-dwellers. Inside, there was a big boiler heated by a coal fire and either a sink or a wash tub in which the clothes could be scrubbed by hand. Having been washed, the clothes were squeezed through a wringer and then hung out to dry in the back court.

If the weather was bad, you might have to dry your washing indoors. In the kitchen/living room of each house there was a pulley (two or three wooden rails) suspended from the ceiling; it could be lowered by ropes and then, with the damp clothes suspended, raised again.

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When I was very young my Saturday penny often went to buy another toy soldier for my tin fort. Made of metal, about 4cm in height, the soldiers were brightly painted - black busbies, red jackets and dark blue trousers. Unusually my fort was also home to one or two cowboys and I remember a red Indian.

Like most boys at that time, I had a number of Dinky Toys. Modelled on real cars, vans, lorries and buses, those were much more expensive than the soldiers, and so it was only occasionally that one was added to my collection.

When playing with toys, I had a vivid imagination. While my pals all knelt down and pushed their little cars along the pavement, I remained standing, holding my car at eye level, for I could clearly see the imaginary road along which my car was speeding.

Both my sister and I were pretty good at “make believe”. When very small, she would sit for ages on the floor playing with loose papers and making up stories in a whisper to herself. As for me, a couple of clothes pegs (not the kind with metal hinges) could become people, the little round bit being the head and the two prongs their legs. Also if one of the pegs was fitted in to the other at right angles, the result was an aeroplane.

And when I was really tiny, I could content myself with an old biscuit tin full of discarded buttons, arranging them in different patterns on the carpet.

Who needs toys if you have a good imagination?

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Taken from the steeple of Kirkintilloch Parish Church - later renamed St. Mary’s, this 1914 photo looks down on the old wooden bascule bridge over the Forth and Clyde Canal.

Whenever a boat had to pass through, the bridge was raised by means of a wheel turned by hand and this was done by the bridge-keeper. I remember when it was replaced by steel swing bridge in 1933. 

In the years after the Second World War there was a huge increase in the number of vehicles on the road, and the opening and closing of the bridge for canal traffic created serious hold-ups. In 1967 a proper road bridge was built on an embankment, but this completely closed the canal at that point, resulting in a great deal of rubbish gathering in the water on both sides.

Many folk campaigned to have the whole length of the canal re-opened, and this happy result came about in 2001.

There is now a Marina not far from the bridge and Kirkintilloch is claiming to be “The Canal Capital of Scotland.”

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My mind has been taking me back eighty years or more to the days when the best present I could have was a jotter. Yes, just a plain jotter. 

I would get a pencil and a rubber and settle down to write or draw.
For quite a while I would sit and look at the blank page. There was something fascinating about the whiteness and in a strange way, though I was keen to begin, I was also reluctant to spoil the clean page.

And once I had overcome this reluctance to start, how did I make use of my jotter?

Writing stories which I never got round to finish, poems with rather dodgy rhymes, jokes taken from my comic “The Rainbow” and I remember trying to write a play. My inspiration usually came from Children's Hour on the wireless.

On one occasion I produced a magazine. I can’t remember what title I gave it, but I think it had half-a-dozen pages. Written in pencil, there were family news items, puzzles, drawings, jokes and poems. I tried to copy real magazines by varying the size of my script for the different items and using big lettering for the titles of each feature. 

My father was always very proud of what we children did and it was probably he who suggested that my completed work of art should be passed round relatives.

And so the magazine did the rounds and eventually was returned to me. But what a shock I had!

Someone had obviously been reading it at the breakfast table for
a runny egg had been dripped on to the front page. I know who the culprits were but I’m not telling.

 And that’s why I produced just one edition my lovely magazine.

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This unusual painting
Girl at a Window
is by Marie Therese Heumesser

It is followed by a Detail

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During my time as a club musician, I met some very talented amateurs. It was rare for singers to have their music with them, and I had to follow them as best I could. Since they usually didn’t know in which key their song was set, I would ask them to start on their own, and after a couple of bars I was able to join in with a suitable accompaniment.

I must mention that my knowledge of “pop” goes no further forward than 1960, and at times I was probably the only person in the club who didn’t know the number being sung. Fortunately the drummer knew his stuff, and was a big help to me.

Of course all the professional artistes had band scores, most of them very well written, and playing them was a challenge I really enjoyed.

For a while I played occasionally for cabaret at a golf club, and it was there I met one of their members - a very amusing amateur comedian. He reminded me of the American George Burns, and the audience loved his casual, relaxed style. I was so keen on his act, that I arranged for him to appear in the club where I was resident. And I was completely shocked! He was a flop! The poor man, away from his usual group of friends, had a real struggle to raise a laugh. 

That was the last time I ever recommended an entertainer.

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Many years ago Kirkintilloch district had three institutions for mentally deficient people; now there are none. The earliest was Woodilee Hospital (known to us as “the asylum”) which functioned from 1875 till 2001. Then came Waverley Park Home 1906 -1993, and from 1936 till 2002 Lennox Castle Hospital.

I knew Waverley Park very well, for I entertained there on many occasions. When it opened, its purpose was to provide for the “Care of Defective and Feeble-minded Children”. In practice it was a home for girls and women. Some of the latter seemed very old to me and and I suspect that they had been among the first occupants of the home.

The girls were always thrilled when visitors came to entertain, and enjoyed taking part. A church dramatic club which performed comedy plays was very popular, and my violinist friends and I provided music between the acts.

A few of the girls who were more intelligent worked outside as domestic helps, and one in particular was employed by a local doctor for many years. All of them went out en masse each week, on Sunday mornings to church, and to the cinema on Saturday afternoons. 

I used to dread meeting them in the street. They walked in a long line two by two, and, if they happened to see me across the road, they would nudge each other and point. Some were bold enough to wave. I'm afraid I was too embarrassed to respond. If I saw them before they saw me, I would take avoiding action by darting into a shop, and wait there till they had passed.

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No.10

DO YOU REMEMBER -

when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles?

when a film (sometimes two films) plus a short feature, a cartoon and a newsreel were all included in a night at the cinema?

when the commercial station Radio Luxembourg was famous for its broadcasts of popular music?

when very often two homes had to share a phone line?

when the usual way of getting a TV set was not to buy one, but to get it on rental? A weekly visit to the TV shop with the payments book was a must.

when there was just one TV channel?

when the TV was switched on before the start of the scheduled programmes, this test card was displayed on the screen?

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IF YOU REMEMBER (as I do)
street lamps lit by gas, horse-driven vans, Harry Lauder on the wireless, Mrs Simpson who was the cause of Edward VIII's abdication, the launch of the Queen Mary at Clydebank, the Lambeth Walk and young ladies sporting the earphone hairstyle 

THEN JOIN THE CLUB!

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The photo below was taken around 1940. It shows my grandfather John Armour Jaap in the dress of the Ancient Order of Shepherds. I know he was a member of that benevolent society, though I don’t think he held any office. Perhaps he got dressed up like that, just for a bit of fun.

Born in 1868 in Kilmarnock, he married Charlotte Graham in 1891 in Kirkintilloch, where he had found work in the local coal mine. Later he became an engine driver, driving the “pug” which carried the coal wagons to nearby foundries and to the canal depot.

I remember, when I was a boy, my father telling me in all seriousness that Grandpa had once seen a fairy down the mine. I had no reason to doubt the story then, but I’m surprised that, when I was older, I didn’t ask my grandfather about it.

Many years ago I came across a magazine article about the supernatural and was interested to find how many well-known people, particularly in the literary world, were believers in the Wee Folk.

Towards the end of the 19th century W. B. Yeats and Lady Augusta Gregory began collecting fairy stories, and became convinced that the existence of fairies was a reality. 

Another believer was G. K. Chesterton. He wrote “It is a fact that it is not abnormal men like artists, but normal men like peasants, who have borne witness a thousand times to such things. It is the farmers who see the fairies. It is the farm labourer who calls a spade a spade who also calls a spirit a spirit. It is the woodcutter with no axe to grind who will say that he saw a man hang on the gallows and afterwards hang round it as a ghost.”

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Among my memories of childhood one incident is still very clear in my mind.

In the 1930s there was an outbreak of scarlet fever, a very infectious disease which necessitated patients being isolated in hospital. I fell victim to it, and, after I recovered and home again, my sister, just a few weeks short of her 5th birthday, caught the germ. 

This looks very like the dreaded "fever van"

I can remember the day she was taken away. After the van had left I couldn't find my mother and I searched the house. And then I discovered her - the sitting room door was wide open and there she was, hiding behind the door, crying . . .

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When our daughters were at Lenzie Academy, they made contributions to the school magazine. Here are examples beginning with a poem by Margaret - Class 1A

STORM

A pale, untidy moon
Peers fearfully from a lurid sky
Through tattered cloud curtains of blackening grey.

The wind blows furiously
Carrying litter, leaving trees
Leafless and tottering in its wake.

And grey sea walls tower,
Pause, leap and plunge
Endlessly and mercilessly on slimy roads.

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A poem by Lesley - Class 1A

PATIENCE

I sit, waiting
For thoughts to be transformed
Into words,
Waiting
For pen to touch paper:
Waiting, waiting

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And something completely different from Fiona - Class V

Section 4. PRACTICAL CRITICISM

Read or sing this poem and answer the questions that follow in English.

NB. Answer EITHER questions 1, 4, 2, 6, OR 2, 5, 3a, 9, BUT if you choose question 7 do not attempt questions 8, 2, 6. Do not attempt question 5b if you are of a nervous disposition.

Baa, baa, black sheep

Have you any wool?

Yes, sir, yes, sir,

Three bags full.

One for the master,

And one for the dame,

And one for the little boy

Who lives down the lane.

- Anon

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Finally, some photos of me, between the ages of 2 to 12

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TODAY'S POST CONCLUDES THIS SERIES.
However it will be replaced by a new blog
90PLUS AND STILL BLOGGING
which begins next Saturday 24th June

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No.9

This photograph is one of the oldest we have of our branch of the Jaap family. Taken about 1888, it shows my great-grandparents George and Jean with their six sons. My grandfather is standing behind my great-grandfather.

My great-grandmother was Jean Armour from Ayrshire, so it's quite possible that she was related to the Jean Armour who was Robert Burns's wife.

One family member not in the picture is Jean's own daughter from a previous relationship.

Some time during the 1890s five of the brothers went to the USA and found work in Andrew Carnegie’s steel works in Pittsburg. Two of them decided to stay and later brought their families to settle in the States. My grandfather remained in Scotland.

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It was in the 19th century that a great many Scots emigrated to America. Poverty and unemployment were perhaps the main causes of this great movement of the population, but for some there was the attraction of going to a country where, so it was believed, a higher standard of living was attainable.

It’s difficult to imagine the feelings of the brave souls who left their homes and friends behind, heading for the unknown. Certainly, for those whose adventure began in the earlier part of that century, there were many problems.

Liverpool was the main starting-off point and very often travellers had to wait for days, living in dirty, over-crowded lodging houses, being constantly harassed by pickpockets and thieves who would steal their luggage and make them pay for its return.

The journey by sailing ship took about 35 days. Most folk were accommodated in steerage, which was like a dormitory with bunks on both sides and tables down the middle. There was serious overcrowding, poor ventilation and, apart from seasickness, there were cases of cholera and typhus. What a nightmare it must have been!

Things had improved considerably by 1860 when steam ships had replaced sailing vessels. By that time healthy competition had grown between shipping companies who were keen to do what they could to attract customers, and 3rd class cabins had largely taken the place of steerage. And most important of all, the journey was now taking 7-10 days.

Of all those who emigrated, a surprising number were Mormon converts on their way to Utah. There had been a lot of Mormon activity particularly in England from 1835 on, and it was claimed that by 1850 they had made 30,000 converts. On two occasions they hired the SS Sailor Prince to convey their new members from Liverpool to New Orleans.

On the second voyage beginning on September 24th 1848, there were 341 passengers, and those included relatives of our Montgomery Japp, born 1764 in Fife. Montgomery (unusual name for a woman) had married Thomas Muir, born around 1758 and the emigrants were her son, who had become a Mormon in 1846 and his wife, their seven children, their son-in-law, daughter-in-law and four grandchildren. The journey took 57 days, and from New Orleans they continued on to Utah.

The following is from Gloria Emery, a descendant of Montgomery:

"Montgomery’s  great-grandson, David Muirie Hunter and his wife Sarah Jane Urie were part of what is called the “Hole in the Wall” wagon train – they were chosen by the Mormon leadership to go to southern Utah canyon country with a group of other Mormons to found a new town in the southern wilderness. They went by ox and wagon, travelling through country that is remote and takes a 4-wheel drive vehicle today. They had to cross the Colorado River. In order the get the wagons down off the cliffs, they blasted a “hole” and lowered the wagons with ropes. It was quite a feat. They settled in the little town of Bluff, Utah, then returned to Cedar City, Utah later."

 We know of other families who went to Utah. Isabella Japp, born 1834 in Fife, married George Edgar, born 1830 and they emigrated with their thirteen children. And Elizabeth Jaap, born 1823, with her husband Robert Laird and their family, also settled in Utah. 
The following comes from Mormon archives:

“In 1856, Brigham Young, the Mormon president, devised a plan whereby emigrants from Britain could come to Utah if they were willing to pull handcarts and walk the 1,300 miles from Iowa to Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap, her husband Paul Gourlay and two small children undertook this journey. 

Unfortunately this group was late in beginning their trip in the fall of 1856, and met with disaster when winter storms trapped the emigrants along the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. Two hundred members of the company died of starvation and cold, before Brigham Young could send a rescue party of wagons from Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap's two young children died. 

There are conflicting stories on the fate of Ellison. One report says she died in Wyoming, and the other states that she made it to Utah. A journal kept by one of the members of the Martin Company mentions the death of Ellison’s seven month old child Margaret with the following entry:
15 August 1856, a child was buried this morning. The coffin had to be made, which delayed us until about eight o'clock.”

A very sad story! We know that Ellison Jaap came from Fife where our ancestors lived, and it’s very likely there's a family connection.

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There used to be occasions when Americans visiting Kirkintilloch asked to be directed to the Duggan’s Dew distillery, and were disappointed to find that there was no such place.

In fact there was - and there still is - a popular whisky in America called “Duggan’s Dew”. The makers had taken the name from a series of short stories published in the (American) Saturday Evening Post. Written by Guy Gilpatric 1896-1950, they featured a fictitious Colin Glencannon, a ship’s engineer on a tramp steamer who with his dog Mary had come originally from Kirkintilloch. He was very fond of a drink, his preference being the whisky made in his home town, and there was always a mention of “Duggan’s Dew” in the stories. I believe a 39-episode series based on his adventures was produced for TV in the late 1950s. 

The author himself had an adventurous life. An airman in the first World War, he became a stunt and test pilot, and took part in a number of films. In one film he had to crash a plane, but another “take” was needed, and he had to do it once more - with another plane, I presume. Incredible!

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On 8th June it will be 2 years since Lesley's death

GALLERY

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A PERSONAL SCRAPBLOG No.10
will be posted on
SATURDAY 17th JUNE

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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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