Memory of Times Past...

Have you ever wondered what happened to all those folks you once knew.  The neighbours of your childhood, folks at school, those early jobs?  It surprised me somewhat to consider that the girls in my memory, the ones who used to throw themselves at men, are now well into their 60's and 70's, many are into their 90's if they still survive.  I wonder what became of them?  I expect that when I moved on they found it hard to contain their grief, this of course might be a misunderstanding on my part, but what did they do afterwards?  The nurses in the hospital could not remain their forever, it was demolished some years later, their careers as high powered nurses could get them work anywhere at the time and some were, others would soon be married or paired off and are they now glowing grannies with a pack of kids troubling them?  
Clearly some from that time would be dead long since, this tends to happen I find.  I first entered the strange world of work in 1966 and few from those days would remain now.  The management were at least in their 40's, the big boss almost 60, and many of the workers in the whisky bond were far from young, today the remnants will be in their 70's at least.  The next job also only lasted a year, and I was lucky in that, but few of those will survive today, I wonder how they fared.

This huge building was the brewery in which I lodged and grew up over some four years.  Here the girls threw themselves at me also but there again those girls threw themselves at anything male so that really doesn't count.  It is funny how memory of such people is crystal clear, except names, few names remain.  Incidents, good and bad, abound and sometimes I wonder what happened to the folks there who were so good to me, they gave me enough money for a single ticket to London when I left in 1971, hold on...!
Interestingly, yes it is, almost all those places I worked over the past century no longer exist!  Almost all are large blocs of flats, as here, or housing estates of some sort.  This reflects something of the changed industrial landscape of the nation.  So many factories I once knew have gone, production now in China or Bangladesh instead.  Leith, wherein I first worked had many whisky bonds, most are now blocks of flats for the gentry.  Even the rough Leith docks pubs now supply staff called 'Rory, ' if you understand my meaning.  That would not have worked in the 60's. 
I miss many of the girls from the hospital, the men would be long dead mostly being in their 50's then, I suspect most died by 1990, the result of smoking early on and the usual age concern diseases.  It s strange to think I left Maida Vale in 1982, which is 36 years ago, and even the loveliest lass will be near 70 now.  When working there I pondered those who had passed that way before and were soon forgotten, how few remember us even if we are 'stalwarts' of an organisation for many years.  Only the famous doctors are remembered and even then the memory fades.
Jings I'm feeling moody tonight.  Where is the whisky bottle...?

Renovation

The Death Trap Whisky Bond

For some reason today I contemplated my first job, way back in 1966 before you were born, and made the strange discovery that almost all my previous workplaces had disappeared!  The whisky bond where I singularly failed to make any impression moved shortly afterwards outside of Edinburgh. The death trap building itself may well stand down the bottom of Leith Walk but I have no idea if it remains in use.  Wooden floors, stairs and tons of cardboard boxes mixed with a vat of whisky and thousands of bottles of the stuff do not enable Health & Safety men to sleep at night.  Having departed before being encouraged to leave I moved to Slateford Road where a company making biscuit tins and their plastic inserts paid me almost £6 a week to prove I was not cut out for that job. The company realised that making the inserts was more profitable than the tins and last I heard were developing that side of the business.  The do not exist today.

W&P

Today a modern housing development that greased somebody's hand stands there.  In the modern world 15 and 16 year old's seldom find employment, the government keeps them at school to avoid paying them dole money, but in the past companies throughout the land were employing feckless youth who took the money, chatted up the women unsuccessfully and offered little in return, at least that's what the company secretary told me with an uncompromising stare.

Shortly after this conversation I found work at the brewery.

Tenents Heriot Brewery

Here I remained almost four years, enjoyable years at that.  The work was not difficult, even I could do it, the women threw themselves at me, well if you used a can or two of 'Husky Export' that is, and when my life changed I departed for London and a new life.  The people, almost all of whom I actually got on with, gathered together sufficient funds to pay a one-way train ticket to London for me.  Wasn't that nice?  Now the one time brewery, not far from Tynecastle Park home of the world famous Heart of Midlothian, is a block of overpriced flats.  So that's three jobs where the company has found the premises demolished after I left.  This cannot go on can it...?

After a year of London life, where I found a church where Jesus would speak to me and a job with a charity rehousing folks, I came back to what appeared to be old fashioned Edinburgh, well it was 1972!  The shops shut at five in the evening whereas in London they stayed open longer and one worked 24 hours! After a few months away it seemed so boring to a 20 year old.  I was employed eventually at a Cash & Carry where I happily upset people daily.  Deciding to do something a bit more worthy I embarked on a healing career by joining the Royal Infirmary as an orderly.  Here I was so good the other wards attempted to head hunt me!  I wish they had!  While happy at the time I discovered just how difficult women could be to work with.  Until then I had found no trouble working however in this ward bitchiness from the sister towards her superiors and to her nursing staff did not enable a happy atmosphere.  The patients, even the female ones were better behaved, there again I suppose Sister had the needles!  I returned to the Cash & Carry for another year or two.  Both the Royal Infirmary and the Cash & Carry have been redeveloped!  That's five jobs and five redevelopments, so far.  Naturally I should add the building we resided in while working for the charity London no longer operates as we did.  Our 'Hippy' like approach did not go down to well and that place is now someones home.  The organisation has become another council and who knows what goes on with them today!  The old hospital now has many grand flats, for the rich.  

In 1975 it was important to return to that church in London.  This meant leaving the family that I missed, especially those lovely nieces, how hard that was, and found a few months work in a highways depot in Finchley.  That is now a small housing estate.  After a few months I moved to a slum in Swiss Cottage, since redeveloped, and worked at Maida Vale Hospital for several years. 

This was my best ever employment.  Whether the others agree I know not but this place still appears in my dreams at times.  Happy place to work, something new each day and the people on the whole good to me.  Working amongst the long term sick and others dying gives a differing view of the world.  On occasion this place appears in my dreams and I suspect appear in the ladies dreams also.....what..oh!  The hospital is now a block of flats.

Sadly my long years which followed at Selfridges, in the vans, warehouse and then dreadful office, did not result in the stores imminent collapse.  Maybe I was unnoticed there?  Running from that dead end to temp work and eventually I escaped to the wilderness of Essex.  Here those who employed me know about it.  One closed the warehouse and moved, actually two did that.  One almost collapsed but thanks to cost cutting, e.g dumping staff, survived and one was badly run then collapsed, one lost the account and died and Royal Mail has been sold off in a disgraceful manner and soon will become like the private energy companies, greedy, expensive and out of control. 

How strange I find that so many places that once saw me wandering about in a dream no longer exist.  Was it ever thus I wonder.....?  

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Lonely Nights in the Hospital

At night all was still.  Lights were dimmed, doors closed, outside sounds nullified, stillness, disturbed rarely by footsteps, a nurse heading for her break, the lift doors swishing then moving between floors.  Silence.   Patients slept quietly for the most part, infrequent attention from the nurse dozing nearby for a few.  Seriously ill patients required more careful diligence.  Silence and stillness for the most part.   On such nights I often pondered on those unknowns who had worked there in the century past.  Not so much the medical staff, neurosurgeons and doctors were renowned in their time, I pondered those we never know, porters, domestics, office staff, a variety of functionaries who often spent considerable years in these walls.  These may have been efficient, popular, an important member of the staff yet now they are forgotten.  There are pictures, some in the history of the hospital written in 1958, others hidden in archives. These show stiff nurses in stiff uniforms posing with stiffer patients, ancient, almost frightening equipment that once operated on the brain saving many lives, and the bewhiskered men charged with understanding the nervous systems failings.  These looked more dangerous!  Ancient dark furniture in sitting rooms, coal fires, dark cots containing curious children, plaques above each bed naming the person or organisation who paid for them.  Aged furniture maybe but the layout and appearance very similar to the days of the late 70's and early 80's.  Maybe it's my twisted mind but I often wondered about those who passed through before, especially the people who served for years in that place.  The stories old buildings could tell.  

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