It's the last day of the school summer holidays so
for most of us it was a mix of good 'n bad and sweet 'n sour. Good because we
were still off school and squeezing the last juices from the summer's fruits;
but bad because for me and everyone else we have to walk back through the
school gates the morn.
Aye it's back
to Hunters Tryst; or Firrhill or Boroughmuir.
It's a funny old feeling;
part of me would actually feel a wee buzz of excitement about going back if
only I could handle the academic work; feel more secure; have some good friends
there; and of course put in a decent shift both in my school attendance but
also by studying after school too. But the reality is that without a magic
fairy none of that is ever going to happen. I probably need some kind of a
mentor who would make everything all right. The best I did at Burrie was
in my last term of second year. I had the motivation in that I didn’t want the
embarrassment of being left behind to repeat the year like some poor folk; plus
I had direction and an externally imposed discipline whereby the old boy kept a
beady eye on me
He required me
to work at my studies each evening. I had a standing up desk (the side of the
chest of drawers). All the time from my bedroom window I could see 'n hear the
happy shouts of Boo-Boo; Les; Iain and all my pals out playing as well as the
teams playing football up at The Field all enjoying themselves. I was able to
get out later on but by then much of the fun had died down as had the football,
my biggest pleasure. There was a mix of pleasure 'n pain doing that but it
worked as I got my best results back then. I also felt that when I went into
school that I was in control of a lot of the lessons and therefore felt more
secure and I guess happier too.
With third year over and it being such a disaster I've fallen so far
behind that fourth year is going to be a nightmare and an ever downward spiral;
what a disaster as it's my O level year but anyway who needs O levels!
Anyway
philosophising aside we all went back up to the stadium at Redford Barracks
again. However this time we only got half way through our athletics meeting
before the sudgers descended upon us and we all had to take to our heels and to
make a very rapid retreat. Mind you what a flipping laugh we had as some
of the wild-eyed stragglers were panicking as they tried unsuccessfully to
hurriedly climb over the ten foot high surrounding fence. Some of them were
either getting their tops caught on the fence or slipping back down as the
soldiers advanced on them. It was blind panic! I hung around to give a few of
them a hand or encouragement.
At one point I
could hardly run back home for laughing! Anyway we all managed to escape
without being captured by the enemy and we rendezvoused back at Oxgangs. What a
flippin laugh and a great way to wrap up the 1971 school summer holidays which
all n' all have been pretty braw as Oor Wullie might say; and like him we've
enjoyed our adventures similar to him and his pals jumping the Stoorie Burn.
Roll on Halloween 'n Christmas.
I was just reflecting that one thing which I have been doing well is
keeping my diary going every day.
Since the
athletics was abandoned I organised a hopping competition across Oxgangs Avenue
on the wee grass strip behind the bus stop. I managed 21 hops but only finished
second. Hopping doesn’t half pummel the legs; good training too I expect. I've told Pamela Baird
that's me for the papers now that I'm going back to Burrie the morn so I didn’t
have to do the City Hospital run today. It's been an interesting experience
each afternoon over the summer giving me an insight into life and people who
are old 'n infirm and suffering; it's important to enjoy your good health 'n
youth; it's easy to take running about for granted.
At night Gaga
was out with John; with Mum marrying John shortly I think they were out
bonding. Meanwhile I had some juice 'n crisps for my supper. Boroughmuir
beckons the morn as does my afternoon appointment to discuss why I spent half of third year skiving and playing truant.
