Halloween and visits to Strachans the joke shop

It's that time of the year again! Halloween! A big favourite with the lads from the High Wall. I don't think we ever missed it out as kids. It was probably oor favorite night of the year. Better than Xmas?.......Maybe.

I saw an article in the paper the other week that set my mind off at a particular tangent. The article was about an ape called Charlie that had died on an animal sanctuary somewhere. An ape? Halloween? Bear with me.

This ape, Charlie was a bit of an oddity. Seemingly he had been smoking cigarettes for most of his life. He had picked up a fag-end at one point, taken a fews puffs & he was off. He smoked solidly for years, getting ciggies from folk who visited the sanctuary.

Well poor Charlie went and died. Not a premature death I hasten to add. The old boy lived until he was 54, which is seemingly about ten years longer than most apes live to. So the fags had done him nae harm at all. So from this "smoking monkey" my mind turned to the other kind of smoking monkey, the kind you used to be able to buy in Strachans Joke Shop in Edinburgh. And Strachans & Halloween go together like Morcambe & Wise.

Strachans was situated in Forrest Road, near to where the Royal Scottish Museum is. In fact the whole new section of the museum, is built in part, on the place where Strachans once stood. The whole area is completely different to how it looked when we were bairns. Up from Strachans was the Hole In The Wall Pub, named after the goings-on of Burke & Hare. There was also a jewellers shop there called Abbots of Greyfriars, and I think there were a few other shps including a wee bakers shop. There was also a pend there, which took you into a cobbled courtyard leading to the side door of the museum. A lot of tramps & winos used to hang aboot there heating themselves at wee fires. There is still a wee shop there selling pots and pans, crockery, and other kitchen stuff that was there back in the day, which is still there, just across from where Strachans once stood.

Strachans was a braw shop. Full of amazing stuff, most of it at pocket money prices. You could get shrunken heads, monster masks, coffin money boxes, false cigarettes that you blew clouds of talcum powder oot of, itching powder, false plooks & scars, wigs, false hands, skeletons, packets of chewing gum that contained a mini mouse trap that nipped yer fingers when you removed a stick of gum, squirting flowers, exploding fountain pens, stink bombs, fancy dress costumes, Dracula fangs, and a whole rake of other stuff.

And it also sold smoking monkeys. Yeah, I told you there was a link coming up! Us High Wall lads often bought oorselves a smoking monkey. They were braw! The monkey used to come wi aboot five or so little cigarettes. You would stick one in the wee monkey's open mooth & light it. Once ye'd done this a wee smoke ring would be emitted wi a hiss from the end o the cigarette. Trouble was when ye had finished the wee ciggies, ye were left wi a wee plastic money wi a look on its face like it had been goosed & it was nae use to anyone. Ye couldnae buy the wee ciggies separately. Pity. There ur probably hooses all over the place wi one o these stupid wee plastic monkeys, sitting in attics gathering dust, in cupboards, just waiting for someone tae come along wi one o yon we evil-smelling cigarettes and get them blowing smoke rings again!

Anyway aw um saying is that tonight's Halloween and we're getting the hoose o done up wi Halloween stuff, just waiting fir the guisers to pop along. And as I do this I am thinking about Halloweens o the past, and remembering a wee shop in Edinburgh called Strachans, that was the place to go and get some masks and stuff to scare auld drunks as they emerged fi pubs in South Clerk Street.

Happy Halloween my fellow High Wallers & other blog readers! Hae a guid yin!

Cheers

Arkos

Poor-oots

Money was always tight for us boys back in the High Wall days. Returnin' Globe boatils was always one source of income. Another guid yin was wedding "Pour-oots". Now ah think the official name of this practice is a "Scramble" but tae us they were, and will always be "Poor-oots".

There were a guid few churches aroond the High Wall and on a Saturday we would ayeways have a wee traipse aboot to see where the marrying wis happening. There was Salisbury Church, a wee yin in Upper Gray Street, Mayfield Church and one in Sciennes Road which has since been knocked doon. There was also a synagogue at Salisbury, but this was the 70's and so our parents had telt us we were "waistin' oor time expectin' a poor-oots fae jews". Occassionally we could go doon tae Prestonfield cos we knew a few bairns doon there, but any further and you ran the risk o' a doin' fir encroachin' on someone elses income. Fair do's, we felt the same if they came tae oor churches.

So the Happy couple would emerge and git their photaes taken and aw that. We wir jist shufflin' aboot like a pack o' hungry wild dugs. There could be up tae 20 or 30 bairns hingin' aboot. Once they were ready for the big exit we would barge towards the big car shoutin "poor-oot". Well the boy would have nae choice but tae sling a load o' smash oor way. If he didnae 20 or 30 bairns would loudly imply that he was perhaps of a faith more suited to a wedding at the synagogue, or words to that effect. Nae one wants that legacy especially wi aw the new in-laws present and a Best Man's speech comin' up in a few hours.

Then we were off, scrabblin' aboot the road like a fumble in the last minute of the Superbowl. Elbows flailin', standin' on boys hands as they tried tae pick up the coins, skinnin' yer knees. It was a most undignified sight, especially at Mayfield which was on a bus route wi a stop right ootside.

Me, Arkos and Bobrob would work as a team and loot was split evenly, we would use blocking tactics or kick coins towards a designated collector. We made oot like bandits.

Aye it was worth a burst lip and a skint knee just tae get money fir cola cubes and a boatil o American Cream Soda

Aint that a kick in the head.

One of the hazards o' being a 70's High Wall bairns was the the amount o' gangs runnin' aboot the toon. Now I know there was a wee "casual" scene back in the 90's but that was a bit mair sophisticated and confined tae the fitba and clubs.
In oor day a guid kickin' was literally just roond the corner. Purely territorial.

Aye ye strayed too far fae the High Wall and you were in someone elses territory. YNT, YIC, YGT, YSSR, YLT, BAR- OX, TCR, MBB, YPR, YMD, YPD...ect Man ye needed a map and a compass.

Mostly it was just a case o' being chased and ye had tae be quick on yer feet. Naebody really got any serious doin's and if ye ran fae a pack o' radges, everyone was happy if ye got away. The radges defended their bit and saw ye off. You, in turn, got away intact. A classic Win-Win situation. Now I was like a skinny white version o' Usian Bolt in those days, but even then I knew they boys slowed up when they were chasin' ye, cos the point had been made.

There were a few right bams though, boys in full-on Clockwork Orange gear, nutters in crombies wi walkin' sticks and sharpened steel combs. Ye tended tae gie them a wide bearth. They tended tae stick tae alleys and places rife fer ambush.

There were aw the books by Richard Allen which we loved,. Full o' violence wi' a bit o' shaggin' thrown in. They got traded aboot the school like Futures Derivatives. Added tae that ye had Mr Kubrick glammin' up the auld ultra-violence wi Clockwork Orange. Nane o' this really helped the situation.

Aye it wis an interesting time tae be a young laddie. It taught us how tae read situations and how tae cover 400 yards in aboot a minute withoot breathin or lookin' back.

A shaggy dog story.

Ah dinnie ken if this wiz a game fae the day or a High wall tortue ritual! In Curlies gaerdin thir wiz once a big fuckin bloodhound dug. Ah cannie say whae owned um bit eh wiz aye up fir shaggin!
Eh used tae hot fit it roond the gaerdin lookin fur somethin tae rub ehs cock against.
So this is whit went doon, ye hud tae wait until the dug wiz at the back oh the gaerdin then ye climbed in an walked aboot until eh caught sight oh ye.
Now the race wiz oan!
Eh wiz fuckin quick when eh deeked somethin tae shag. If ye didnae make it up the wall quick enough eh pulled ye doon intae the grass an shagged ye till ye hud white stripes oan yir jaekit. 9 oot oh 10 times ye could git away fae um bit some oh the High Wall dudes waited until eh wiz at yer back an then they pushed ye back aff the wall intae certain death! It wiz fuckin traumatic ah tell ye, ah still cannie deek a bloodhound withoot lookin fur stains oan ma duds.
Ah cannie mind whit happened tae the dug, mibbie eh shagged the wrong gadgie, one day it wiz safe tae cross the gaerdin withoot gettin yir jeans dirty. A shaggy dog story indeed!

Three Colours Red, Part Two: Red buses

Yeah, I know that the Edinburgh red buses are not strictly red in colour more like maroon, but if ye live in Edinburgh, everybody calls them red buses. This distinguishes them from the green buses, which tend to travel to more outlying rural areas.

Oot o aw the red buses, the one that I have the fondest memories o is the number 42 bus. This was a braw bus. Bobrob & me could catch this bus just at the corner o oor street & it took us aw where. We normally walked doon tae Alien Orders bit to muck aboot wi him, but sometimes we just hopped on the 42 & for a few pence got a wee run doon the road.

Then me & bobrob used tae get the 42 oan a Saturday doon to ma Gran's at Craigentinny. Once there we mucked aboot wi ma cousins, going doon tae Porty, Seafield, the Golfy, Porty Dump, The George Picturehoose & plenty o other places.

A good thing aboot the 42 was that it's route was a circle. This meant that if it was a cold or rainy day, if ye kept yer eyes open when ye were waiting oan the 42, if one wasnae coming from one direction you could sometimes git it goin the other way. So if you left Porty near the Toon Hall you could git it going roond Duddingston, doon past the Kings Buildings & then up Causewayside, rather than up Marionville Road, along London Road, roond St Andrews Square & then up the Mound & hame.

Also, on yon auld red buses, wi the driver & the conductor, you could sometimes skive yer fare & spend the cash oan sweeties or comics. Braw!

Aye, I have fond memories of the auld red buses. They were our way of getting a wee bit of freedom to cross the city & explore other remote (or so it seemed to us back in the day) areas. And the 42 bus was only one of many. The 41 was a great bus too, but yon's another tale for another day!

Bobrob & me tried to get a 42 bus aboot a year or so ago to revisit auld haunts. We stood for ages at the 42 bus stop, till we discovered that it still existed, but it didnae go anywhere near the auld route it used tae take. So we ended up having to take another bus tae Porty instead. Just no the same!

Cheers!

Arkos

Kerb yer Enthusiasm

Kerbie was a summer favourite at the High Wall and Summerhall Square was a natural ampitheatre for such a fine game, wi it's wide cul-de-sac road and well spaced pavements.
There wis next tae nae through traffic as well, so a game could be played withoot too much interruption.

The origins of kerbie are unknown but a quick deek at google shows that it springs up all over the U.K in the '70s. Like aw guid games aw ye needed wis a fitba and a street. Fling the baw at the kerb and try tae catch the rebound, Simple. Of course you could add yer ain wee nuances, oor favourite being that ye had tae throw like you were takin' a shy at fiba.

Some boy fae Fife has even made a 21st century version of Kerbie that ye can buy and play in the safety of yer ain garden, ( probably so as yer bairns dinnae git run ower or snatched by paedos). Now tae me that is just takin' things way too far. No just that, but he's wantin' aboot 70 sheets for it. I kid ye not.

Bounceback 21 Aye, I would bounce the boy back if he tried tae sell me that right enough.

£70. He's "at the hurry up" that lad. No just that, but ye can easy enough make yer ain if ye live next door tae Gary Glitter and are frettin' aboot the bairns. Just get reclaimed kerbstanes fir aboot £6 a foot or a couple o' railway sleepers fir between £10 tae £20 a pop oan eBay. A baw costs aboot £2. Job done

Then I found this story fae Kilsyth as well. Ah dinnae ken.

That's the problem wi oor world nooadays, too many rules and no enough content folk.

I bet there are bairns in the favelas o' Sao Paulo and the backstreets o' Mumbai who still play their ain version o' kerbie, and ah bet they play it wi the true spirit o' the game as well.

Any guitar and any bass drum.....

As the High Wall boys got older we got the music bug.

Bowie, Sensational Alex Harvey Band and Cockney Rebel were early influences but it was punk that really set the tone for the rest o' oor lives I guess.

OK Bobrob had his Suzi Quatro phase and who can blame the laddie, but it was the Clash, Buzzocks, Jam, Damned and Pistols that provided the High Wall soundtrack as we entered the murky world o' drinkin' and shaggin'.

But the real fun started wi' the local bands. Man we had oorsels some braw nights watchin' Edinburgh's finest young talent. The Freeze, the Scars, the Valves, the Monos, the Skids, the Prats, the Visitors and many many more. The music scene flourished and many a wee venue sprung up within a short stroll o' the High Wall. Suddenly aw they years o' growin' up in the heart o' Studentville payed off in spades wi' the availability o' free gigs, cheap drink and a guid chance o' yer Nat King.

Arkos and I used tae trail the record shops fir the latest singles. The Record Exchange on Clerk Street had a 10p box full o' singles that didnae chart. I got some right rare early punk stuff oot o' there that I still have tae this day. I used tae also have a rake o' early punk record advertising posters and gig posters that sadly I dinnae still have. A fact that often makes me weep when I look at Ebay. (Dinnae get me started oan ma Marvel Comic collection fae back in the day)

Aye it wiz great tae be a laddie just turned 16 in 1977. The High Wall wiz a happenin' place and every week brought a new sound. Ah went tae sleep every night listenin' tae John Peel on ma clock radio and woke up every morning filled wi' hope and attitute, and wi a new harmony in ma heid.

Being a Hippy back in the summer o' love must be the only thing that comes close.

Here's a wee taste.