The Irish Navvie Gangs and the Night-Watchie

Back in the day there often seemed to be a squad of itinerant Irish Navvie Gangs in Oxgangs undertaking road mending or similar.

I was always quite captivated by their lifestyles and how they sometimes even camped locally overnight in cabins on wheels.

Photograph Seona Turvey Helmer

More usually they were accommodated elsewhere and the wee night-watchman would assume his duties to oversee the area.

Photograph Seona Turvey Helmer

Other than ensuring that any equipment wasn't stolen his main responsibilities were to light and keep lit the old oil lamps to help ensure because of holes dug up in the road that cyclists and motor-cyclists, cars, busses and lorries were aware of temporary changes to the local roads and the normal traffic flow.

Photograph Seona Turvey Helmer

The gangs were always a friendly bunch of men; joking and being humorous between themselves and with the locals were part of the tools of the trade so to speak. I recall one charming good-looking young Irish chap by the name of Kevin who befriended me and other local kids; you felt a million dollars if he asked you to fetch water from home to brew up their cups of tea which were served up in old cans with a hooked wire bent through two holes to hold the drink.

As a kid their lives on the open road flitting from town to town seemed so appealing, interesting and glamorous; the romance of an outdoor life on the road.

In the summertime during the school holidays we could stay up later than usual. Come the late evening when darkness began to fall there was a different feel to those small encampments. After performing his duties the night-watchman usually sat outside his small hut with a brazier glowing bright red and warm in the night air from the hot coals.

Allegedly when a night-watchman's hut was destroyed up at Oxgangs Bank from an explosion there was great concern in the community that the poor chap had been blown to smithereens; the police were mystified, left scratching their heads looking for clues as to the whereabouts of his remains.

Photograph, SPL

But lo and behold, the mystery was discovered shortly after when the old lad turned up to find out what all the fuss was about and what had happened to his hut; unbeknown to all bar his wife he used to return home in the early hours to the comfort of his bed.

In retrospect it was perhaps just as well as his resting place might have been elsewhere!

Swanston Village and the Pentland Hills

After reaching Swanston Pig Farm we wandered up through the revelation that was Swanston Village (a hamlet preserved in time with cottages with thatched roofs) and followed a small burn set amidst a sylvan green pasture.

From there we climbed up to the army’s firing range. If there was a red flag flying we needed to make the difficult decision whether to turn back or somehow reconnoitre and by-pass the T Woods. It was not really a T but actually a cross which was disguised from the northerly Edinburgh direction. One of the children said the T stood for the Trotter family who had planted it. 

Photograph Dave Hennicker

From there we began the steep climb and scramble up the scree slope of the northerly side toward the summit of Caerketton. I found this quite scary; but I had to keep up with the party or risk becoming distanced and isolated so I pushed on. 

But the climb was worth it because once at the top we could survey and take in the whole panorama of Edinburgh and where The Stair and Oxgangs Avenue fitted in. It was an early opportunity to take our bearings and to look at the bigger picture and realise there was a world beyond Oxgangs.

The next generation of Hoffmann brothers (d’Artagnan and Atticus) on the Pentlands above Edinburgh, 2005.

On one of those early adventures we had forged beyond the hill tops deep into the glens perhaps between Fala Knowe and Woodhouselee Hill and then in the direction of Glencorse Reservoir; but for some reason my wee brother Iain (two and a half years younger than me) and I had to turn back to go home early. Unlike the older boys I didn’t know the way and of course back in the day we didn't have any maps or mobile phones. 

We were both in tears. However eventually we found our way back to the summits of Capelaw, Allermuir and Caerketton. And what a happy relief it was to be able to survey the whole panorama of Edinburgh and to say to Iain we’re fine and I think I know the way home. 

From the heights of Pentland it was downhill through Robert Louis Stevenson’s Swanston Village and home to Oxgangs and the bosom of The Stair and back for tea, either Heinz baked beans or spaghetti, toast and tea and as far as our parents knew we could just as easily been have down at Colinton Mains Park all afternoon!

Saturday 8th July 1972

Iain did the milk round with Douglas this morning so I had a slightly longer lie in bed although I awoke when he headed out. First thing in the morning I went into town with Paul Forbes and bought a new pair of training shoes. We decided not to go to work today to the sales job and instead joined some others to go down to the Duns Highland Games. 

I haven’t done any running or been at Meadowbank for over a month but I ran okay finishing third in the 200 metres. I got a wallet as a prize; it’s pretty good, my first one. 

When we got back to Oxgangs at teatime the two of us went down to Colinton Mains Park for a game of tennis. It’s been a different Saturday but good fun. I’m off to bed now. Good night.

Saturday 10th July 1971

Nana and Aunt Heather were up town for their weekly jaunt to Edinburgh so Iain and I played with the garden hose; what a flipping laugh we had getting absolutely soaked! Nana rattled up white fish cooked in milk for our dinner before I settled back to enjoy the final day of the Open golf. 

It was brilliantly entertaining; what a battle between Tony Jacklin; Mr Lu and Lee Trevino. Mr Lu made a splash, but Lee Trevino took the cash! You can’t help but like Trevino. He's got a great personality; on the last hole Mr Lu took out an old dear with his fairway drive to the 18^th; she went down like a sack of potatoes! 

Gaga took Anne, Iain and me down to the park for a game of putting. It was great fun. In the evening we watched the Des O’Connor Show.

Friday 9th July 1971

I worked for a good part of the day at the National Garage at the back of the Store on Colinton Mains Drive. Mr Munro the owner is a big, bluff sort of a character but is okay. I got the job through Iain and Ali Douglas who have both been working there too. I quite enjoy being at the garage and serving the petrol from the wee kiosk. The petrol's straight forward enough but it's a wee bit trickier with the oil 'n petrol mixture for the motor-bikes. 

There's a great smell about the place; it’s the mixture of petrol and heat. It's been another hot and sunny day with the sun beating down. I like the whole feel of the place; there's a certain timelessness and tradition about a garage. It's a wee bit messy with odds 'n ends and some car stuff lying around. I also like the free badges we get to distribute to the customers. On a warm, dreamy afternoon it's a good way to spend a school holiday. 

Pamela Baird

Later on I cycled down to Morningside Drive to re-introduce myself to Pamela Baird and pick up another job at Bairds Newsagents. I've always enjoyed working at Bairds - it's in my DNA. It's actually been a wee while since I've been in the shop. 

Mr Baird

The shop has a good feel to it with the double shop at the front with newspapers; chocolate; cigarettes; stationery and cards and a few toys and then the contrast of the smaller, secret world of the back shop where we fold the newspapers and make up the rounds; brew the tea as well as the wee sink and loo. 

Gaga picked up Iain and me and we went down to Porty where he treated us to a St Andrew’s Restaurant fish supper; they must easily be the best in the world. Like the weather, the golf is hotting up and there’s only a stroke between Lee Trevino and Tony Jacklin. We sat in and watched a great film, Robin Hood; I've always fancied a life in the greenwood. Before bed I settled back to read my comics. All 'n all a fantastic day - another excellent day of holiday and work too, but with lots of good stuff packed in there - happy days! 

Thursday 8th July 1971

Another very good and enjoyable day; you cannae whack the school summer holidays.

I played tennis again all morning - it's a brilliant game. 

Once again a few of us were out smoking in the afternoon. 

I've been told that I'm not to play with Les. 

I spent some of the afternoon enjoying the golf from Royal Birkdale; Mr Lu's captured all our imaginations. I also enjoy reading up the morning reports in Mum's Scottish Daily Express which arrives through our letterbox early each morning. Jack Nicklaus's statistics are pretty amazing. 

Like yesterday I played tennis in the evening when it was a bit cooler. Colinton Mains Park was buzzing with lots of kids out playing in the park on the swings and the chute. At the bowling green there was the occasional click of the bowls drifting across the evening air; happy days. 

Later on Reg (Brian Rennie), Tam Smith and I spent the late, still Oxgangs evening hanging out telling each other jokes - no different from Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn a century ago on a dreamy American summer's evening.

Munro's National Garage; Wacky Races; and Butch Cassidy and Graeme Robb

Until we began working at the petrol pumps at Munro’s National Garage Oxgangs Road North our familiarity with the garage was playing in the line of wrecked cars at the rear end. It was a bit of a junk-yard and I suspect they were used as handy on-site spares for repairs.

From a disused and overgrown patch of ground to the side of the Store (St Cuthbert's Cooperative) we used to climb up and then clamber over a ten foot high wall; whereas on the garage side the wall was only three feet high or indeed low in contrast to the drop on the other side.

Quiet as mice we daredevils would open the doors of the old cars and play inside on the drivers’ seats kidding on we were racing one another as we wrenched the steering wheels wildly from side to side with big smiles on our faces. From the sun beating down on the old leather seats there was a distinctive smell inside those old cars 

Eventually we would be spotted usually by one of the young mechanics; Derrick Nicol was the scariest and it was quite thrilling having to run away. The only real escape route for us was to throw ourselves over the three foot wall with the ten foot drop. No one would chase us that way; I guess it was rather like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid - would you jump off from there? And of course all the staff wished to do was to scare the kids off until another day.

Graeme Robb (Oxgangs Park) tells a nice story about how one day he arrived at the garage in tears because his bicycle had picked up a puncture in Colinton Dell. The owner, Mr Munro, a large bluff chap kindly instructed one of the mechanics to repair it for Graeme; from watching the mechanics in action he thereafter knew how to repair future punctures for himself.