'68 was '68

Hey Folks, it’s me again, just a wee anecdote for you, a wee bit like that ‘We Are
Only Riders’ story from last year….

Gary often spoke of how he enjoyed his life as a child, when things were a lot
simpler.

In the ‘sixties, when I was whooping it up in the folk clubs of Edinburgh and
Glasgow, and carousing with the likes of Robin Williamson, Dick Gaughan,
and John Martyn, he was walking to school in the days of ‘Daylight Saving
Time,’ with his dad who worked nearby.

I will share another fragment of Gary’s work, which he recently sent to me by
post, in a similar jiffy bag to the one I received ‘We Are Only Riders’ in,
with no forwarding address or anything. This story rambles a bit, rambles on,
like the song by Led Zeppelin, but it is a nice poignant reminiscence of a
childhood in late ‘60s North-East Scotland, maybe fact, maybe fiction.

He tells of singing Christmas carols, and tunes that sound like folk music, so
there is where my interest comes in. My life now could not get much better.
Here I am a retiree, playing guitar, writing songs and stories, and dabbling in
oil painting, to little acclaim, except those ‘followers’ I have online,
whatever that means in real terms. I sell my music on ‘Bandcamp,’ but will
never reach the dizzy heights of Williamson, Martyn and Gaughan, whatever,
here’s Gary’s reminiscence.

Enjoy!

Calum

’68 was ’68 by Gary Shand

1968.

I remember it well, total recall, like that film based on the
Philip K. Dick story, I can remember it wholesale and all that jazz.

In ’68, I was five years of age. A wee chubby loon, walking to
school with my dad, I recall the photographs in the Family Album, with me and
the girl next door, Beverley, on our first day at school, with school ties and
blazers and shiny, obviously new shoes, maybe they were ‘Start Rite’ shoes,
that was a thing back then, the first brand name I remember. Shoes and T-Bar
sandals to go to school in.

I was quite fat then, but weren’t we all as kids then?

I walked down to school with Dad, wearing my luminous orange arm
bands, as Daylight Saving Time, or the 'Dark Mornings' as we called them,
dictated that it was dark until about ten in the morning, meaning kids going to
school would need to be escorted by parents, especially in primary one. Dad
worked near to the school and that was good for me, and him, I suppose. We
didn’t have a car at that time, so everything was within walking distance;
Grandma and Granda’s house round the corner in Holburn Street, a wee flat which
they’d lived in since before the war, Dad’s work in Bon Accord Square, all the
shops we needed near our wee house, and later Mum’s at the Telephone Exchange.
Once me and my brothers , Allan and Gordon had grown a wee bit older, we would
move somewhere bigger, one of the new council estates, that was the plan.

When I was five, I was ‘quite clever,’ an expression my Mum used
to use, never one to over praise her children! ‘Self-praise is no honour,’ we
were taught back then. I remembered a lot. I had a good memory, which would
‘serve me well when I was older’, as Grandma said. When we went to church on
Sundays, I listened to the organ music and the choir singing. I liked hymns,
especially ‘Bread of Heaven,’ how the sounds of the voices in the choir went up
and down, the notes high and low, I longed to join the choir, but I was too
young. Dad said I could get in when I was seven, a whole two years away, in
1970, that sounded ‘futuristic’, that was a word I had heard Dad saying when
speaking to Mum about an article in the Sunday Express about some film or other.

I liked singing, and loved Christmas carols, when we sang them
at school. I especially liked O’ Little Town of Bethlehem’, and as an adult
still remain convinced  that we sang it to the tune of ‘Star of the County
Down’ , that well kent Irish folk tune, but my researches, pre-Google days,
told me that this was derived from  ‘Dives and Lazarus’ , which was a folk
tune , not from Ireland , but from Sussex, and made famous by the composer
Ralph ( pronounced ‘Rafe’ ) Vaughan Williams.

My great friend and one time work colleague Callum McCallion
played it on his guitar, a real expert in the Bert Jansch/John Renbourn
fingerstyle guitar playing, attributed that one to the brilliant Martin
Simpson, or was it Elijah Lovejoy, or maybe Mississippi Jack McRose?.

I loved Mississippi Jack’s ‘Live at Bail Alley’ album, it was
awesome.  Maybe one day , I’ll get around to writing the book on the
subject, one never kens, I always fancied myself as a music journalist.

Back in '68, my Dad read the newspapers on Sundays and spoke
about the ‘hippies’ and why didn’t they just get jobs and settle down , like
the rest of us. ‘National Service didn’t do me any harm’, he said,

I was ‘quite clever’  , but I didn’t know what a ‘hippy’
was, nor what’ National Service’ was, I could ask Dad or Mum, they would know,
as we didn’t have Google or I-Phones back in those days.

Mum told me that a ‘hippy’ was a bit like a ‘rebel’, and I
wondered if I could be one when I grew up,

I heard Dad speak of hippies being layabouts, wasters, ne’er do
wells, and wondered, but the way they spoke, it wasn’t a good thing.

Time would tell, and I could tell the time, even though I was
just wee. I had Granda’s old watch and could tell what time it was when the big
hand was at 10 , and the little hand at three. I remember looking at the school
clock at 10am, when I went to get something from my anorak pocket in the
cloakroom, and it was still dark, it was ten o’clock, and still dark , that was
weird, as I was scared of the dark, especially at this time of the year with
all the Hallowe’en stuff and fireworks going on.

I remember singing a song called ‘Hallowe’en’s Coming’ at school
back then, and somehow that developed into another story, which I have to go
back and revisit…….

The Story ends here , an unfinished piece, but maybe I should
pick it up and add to it, I feel that might work, I could pass it off as my
own!

© Calum McCallion 2023