Irene Duncan Morrison was born and brought up in the Garthdee area of Aberdeen. She has written to us about her memories and a “wee poem” about her childhood in the 1950s and 1960s.
My memories are not aimed at any specific area in Aberdeen, but more of how most families lived back then, in simpler times.
I was born January 1949, the youngest of four girls and two boys.
Large families were the norm back then, but we were happy, content with little, never expecting anything more.
I was the only one to be born in our house at Garthdee. Mum and dad had moved there springtime 1948, to a lovely terraced house with a magnificent view overlooking the River Dee, and there we would remain for 30-plus years.
I attended all the schools in the area – Drumgarth Infant, Inchgarth Primary, and Kaimhill Secondary Modern. I left school the summer of 1964, and after only a few days of being unemployed, I began my working life at Mascot Fashions in George Street as a junior sales assistant.
We were a typical family of that era. Dad worked hard – he was a foreman with John Menzies wholesale newspaper distribution in Stirling Street. He had worked there since he was a young lad.
I can remember us kids always having a steady supply of our favourite comics to read – Bunty, Judy, Dandy, Beano and the Hotspur – and of course dad was never without his daily P&J and EE.
Mum stayed at home to care for us, as most mothers did back then, so I remember it being a terrible ordeal for me having to be parted from her during my first months at school.
I was not the best scholar in class, but I did like to read and write. I remember flicking through the Evening Express and loved reading the “hatches matches and dispatches” – dad’s description of the births/marriages/deaths announcements.
And with that, I read out loud the wee pretty, yet sad poems that had been posted in the In Memory column. I guess that’s when I began to have a knack for making up wee poems of my own.
A Wee Taster from Irene:
I’ll tell a tale, fae lang ago . . .
A tale si warm . . . mak yer hert ti glow
It’s the days fin we wiz afa young
Thon days, fin Bing and Sinatra sung.
Div ye mine the fog horn bla’n ees tune?
Ivry minute a groan thru Aiberdeen toon
Thick haar wid hing oer street an hill
A night, a day, si dreich and still.
Why not share your memories with YL readers? Contact Natasha on 01224 343382, send her a message at firstname.lastname@example.org or write to YL Magazine, Lang Stracht, Aberdeen AB15 6DF.