Aye, Barrhead Is Braw !

A True tale by Frank McKell

Although I was born only a few miles from Barrhead I cannot remember having visited or spent any time there before the year 2001. Mind you, I did live in two places that are quite close, Newton Mearns and Old Bishopton; but that was a long, long time ago when I was evacuated during the 1939-1945 World War. I actually lived in two houses in Newton Mearns and they were as different as anyone could imagine. The first was with my mother and family in a small house called Caprera Cottage, (I've never forgotten that name) which stood on the main road close to Mearns cross with a petrol station nearer to the cross and a row of shops across the road. There is now a much larger petrol station but the shops have gone and behind where they stood, is the modern shopping centre of today. Caprera Cottage was a delightful little building at the end of about twenty yards of garden. It was divided into two houses, the elderly lady owner lived by herself in the upstairs part which was entered from the centre via a wooden porch from which a staircase led directly upstairs; I don't think any of our family were ever up in that house. To the children it always seemed a bit scary and the lady was neither friendly nor inviting. An example of her character is shown by her behaviour with the mail that arrived for my mother; this would have been very little, perhaps a letter once a week from her husband who had to remain in Glasgow for his work.

One morning my mother and the owner, whom we kids called Granny Caprera, were talking by the porch when the postman came up the garden path and, bidding the women good morning, said he had a letter for my mother, Mrs. M, among the mail. As the letter was being handed over Granny Caprera said, 'just one moment, what is the address on that letter?' The postman replied that it was addressed to Caprera Cottage. Then the letterbox for Caprera Cottage is here in my door, so just put that letter in MY box with the others; the postman did as she ordered. On the inside of the door there really was a box, into which the mail dropped when put through the slot; the door on the box was locked. 'Now that the post has arrived I'll go upstairs for the key to the box' said Granny Caprera, and slowly did that. Returning, she opened the box and took out the mail. 'Oh, there's a letter addressed to you, Mrs M, here you are', she said, handing the letter to my mother. On one occasion, my father visited us and stayed overnight and for a few brief hours, we were a happy, united family. However, the following day Granny Caprera called my mother to attention. 'Mrs M, I believe you had a Man staying here last night, and furthermore it seems he had a bath'. (The hot water tank was upstairs and Granny Caprera could hear the movement of the water as it was drawn off) 'Yes, my husband had the chance to visit the children and myself, and he did have a bath before going to bed' replied my mother. 'Well, that will be one shilling for his lodgings and sixpence for the hot water for his bath; the house is let to you and your children and I do not want anyone else staying here again'. As an evacuee family housed there under government emergency measures, my mother could only accept such treatment in silence.

I don't know if it was because of that incident, but we were moved to other lodgings in Newton Mearns. What a change that was – we moved from a cottage to a Castle!
The castle is still standing, is occupied and in splendid condition; it is called Faside Castle, as near as I can remember. It stands atop a hill on the left about a mile out the Kilmarnock road from Newton Mearns cross and just before the big traffic roundabout. That was a dream place for us city rascals used to running around the streets, up closes and across back courts for our play areas. At the castle, there were magnificent grounds and gardens and although there were some areas that were closed off to us, we still had space, space, green space! There was a keeper's lodge at the entrance to the driveway and a brae with fields all around of about 200 yards leading up to the Castle where three families, comprising three mothers and about 12 children, were billeted. The fathers were absent, serving in the military or working in reserved occupations. We attended school in Newton Mearns but were always keen to get home to the castle where we had so much fun; it was there that my love of the countryside and natures ways was born. At Faside Castle my father could visit, stay overnight, and have a bath whenever he was able to leave his duties in Glasgow, we loved those visits.

The war had recently ended when I went to stay in Old Bishopton House. This huge property, probably larger than Faside Castle, was owned by an order of nuns in Dalbeth, Glasgow, where they had an organisation that assisted and housed unmarried mothers and women with difficult domestic situations; as I understood it to be. In return, the women worked in what was called 'Dalbeth Laundry' where large amounts of linen were laundered for a great many businesses. Unfortunately, the ground upon which the Convent and laundry stood was subsiding and so the nuns had obtained Old Bishopton House for the site of their new enterprise. However, the move could not be made immediately and the nuns were fearful that house squatters would move in to the property if it were unoccupied. At this time with so many men and women leaving the armed forces there was an enormous shortage of living accommodation. Once squatters were established in any building it was enormously difficult to have them evicted as they had a lot of public sympathy. In the light of this, the Mother Superior of the order asked my father if he would move his family to Old Bishopton House so that the premises would be occupied. We were to live there rent free, and so to another huge house we moved. Life there in a beautiful situation surrounded by gardens was not all roses and honey, but that is another long story. Let me just say that we had to travel by buses to Hillington to reach the places where we had jobs, no private cars in those days and in the winter travelling was torturous when the buses crawled around in the fog and ice, if they moved at all. The house was bitterly cold as there was little fuel for the central heating, but in the good weather, it was Snowdrops & Daffodils all the way!

Finally, in June of 2001 I arrived in Barrhead, and as the saying goes – an awful lot of water had passed under the bridge since I last lived near to the area. From the first moment of moving in to the delightful cul-de-sac area of Lyoncross, I was happy in Barrhead, where I lived for 27 months, and expect to return one day. Right across from the turn-in to my home was the entrance to Cowan Park, where I was to meet one of the finest human beings it has been my good fortune to know, his name is well known in the Barrhead area - James Drummond Sharp – Jim, or Jimmy Sharp. However, let's take events in order, first things first and other things to follow on.

I moved in to my accommodation on a Sunday and that afternoon went for a walk around the town with my eyes peeled and looking for my first priority, THE LIBRARY! When I found that building it was of course closed and, putting it as kindly as I should, if this is to be a true tale of MY experiences, (which it is) had a most unattractive appearance. Looking up to the roller shutter doors from the steps leading to the entrance I felt intimidated and at once looked around to see if I had been followed. The metal doors bore signs of violence, there was barbed wire around the security lamps above the entrance, yet these had been vandalised. Discarded bottles, broken glass, empty cans and food containers were scattered around, giving evidence that here was an area to avoid when the library was closed. It was a sad and sorry sight to see a library building treated with such disregard when inside there was surely so much comfort and assistance for all of the community - including those who were being destructive. Thankfully, better times were only one day away as I found out when I entered the library the next morning. The inside was bright, airy, clean, fresh smelling with a warm welcoming atmosphere and extremely pleasant, helpful staff – what a relief for me; I was delighted! In two shakes of a lamb's tail, I became a member and, faster than a whippet off the leash, I was sitting in front of a computer. From there the pace began to slow down, the internet connection was so sloooooow that the before mentioned whippet would have whipped it for speed! The most frustrating part was that the connection would give messages that everything was going ahead and so I was prepared to sit waiting impatiently for my answers. Then, after many, many long minutes of 'stringing my hopes over the cyber waves', the answer would come back –' Nothing Doing Pal, Try Some Other Time'. They say computers are like women!

Despite my disappointment with the computer system, I at once felt very much at home in the library and maybe some of the nice ladies who serve their customers with smiles wondered if I hadn't made it my home. Almost every morning at 'Shutters Up' time I was waiting outside and would just about fall through the door; aye, poor folk, what they have to put up with. On the sluggish performance of the computer system I completed a 'Let us know' form and promptly received a letter in reply, followed by a conversation, from a very nice lady called Barbara; she agreed the system was inadequate and would shortly be replaced (not just a spurious complaint, you see). Soon afterwards, Ms Liz McGettigan, head of the department dealing with computers and such technical matters, had the courtesy to speak to me in the library and explain the new system that would be installed. As I am not good at remembering names I usually invent private nicknames for people and this lovely lady is in my private list as Weebeedee – don't ask me what it means! The new technical section was eventually installed and from day one, it was superb! There are about ten computers, two printers, a scanner and other techie stuff, including professional assistance, available for the customers – all at the much loved Scottish sum of NOUT! Aye, THE LIBRARY IS Braw! With the new system came Alan Rutherford as the Guru to set up the web site for Barrhead Library. Alan has done a super job and one can now read and see what is happening in and around the town from anywhere in the world by typing on the internet: www.barrhead-scotland.com You who are reading this story have probably done just that. The layout of these words and pictures has been achieved because Alan has ensured that all the right buttons have been pressed, and so the results can be seen anywhere by anyone who has access to the Internet. A great champion of the importance of modern computer facilities for the people is the councillor for Auchenback, Eddie Phillips. If not the prime mover, Eddie is certainly committed to making computer services freely available to all, such as in the splendid Auchenback Active centre in Aurs Drive.
Now, to my very good friend, Jim Sharp:

One fine Sunday morning in the autumn of 2001 I decided to take one of the 'heavy' Sunday newspapers across to Cowan Park to sit in the pale sunshine and read; there were not many people around and I sat on a bench by myself. After about ten minutes reading, just as I was getting interested in some news item, my attention was attracted by movement to my left side. Looking up I saw a very smartly dressed, elderly gentleman wearing a dark suit and jauntily sporting a dark, military style forage cap; he was making a bee line towards me. This person was James Drummond Sharp, and this was to be our first meeting, the first of a hundred! The stranger had a walking stick that he seemed to wave around or use as pointer more than as an aid; he chose to sit on the bench beside me and we exchanged greetings. 'Good morning, aye, it's a fine day; a wee bit cold but it's nice to see the sun again'. 'My name's Jim Sharp.' All the time Jim was eying the flag pole from where the flag flew at half-mast while I was anxiously trying to eye the article in the paper! The selfish thoughts running through my mind were, 'Oh boy! Just when I finally get my backside across to Cowan Park and am really interested in reading the newspaper, this 'Auld Sodjer' comes along and parks his backside beside me. Now he's talking to himself about the flag, but loud enough to be directed to anyone nearby – like me.' Of course, I succumbed to Jimmy's charm and interesting conversation almost immediately and we started gassing away non-stop. Having got the flag item sorted out we ranged over a wide range of topics that caused the newspaper to be totally forgotten. Talking of how I spent my time meant that the library and computers were named. I was astonished when Jim told me he had written a book of poems and that it was available in Barrhead Library. These poems had been written on odd scraps of paper during the five and a half years that Jim was a prisoner of war; he had hidden and preserved his writings until they were published. What a man this 'Auld Sodjer' was turning out to be, and what a stroke of good fortune he had bestowed upon me by sitting by my side; I now looked to him with admiration. "When Hopes Return" is the title of Jim's book of poems and I am sure most people could find something there that will move them.
I soon learned that the bold Jim was 'game for anything' when, hearing that I could manage a computer, he said he would like to 'Give it a Go'. I also found out that Jim was a do it now person, no hanging around with this bold fellow. He probably got the same advice from his parents, as I from mine, 'Don't leave for tomorrow what you can do today.' Accordingly, we agreed to meet in Barrhead Library the very next morning and that I would introduce Jim to the cyber-world of the Internet.
Sharp by name and Sharp by nature, we were early birds at the library and Jim had soon signed up for the computer section. A start was made by getting an Internet address and sending off the first message through space – all very exciting. From that first visit together, we made the library our headquarters and met there most days. If we hadn't agreed a time to meet, we would ask the Library Ladies if the other had been in, and if there was a message. In time these good people would give us an update as soon as we approached the counter – always very politely; 'Mr. Sharp was here half an hour ago, he'll be back at 12 o'clock and if you are not here he will see you in the Sports Centre Cafeteria,' for example. It was most useful and worked a treat. Jim and I often had a light lunch in the Sports Centre, and as long as it included soup, we were happy.

One of my greatest pleasures associated with Barrhead was walking around the splendid countryside that lies nearby, mostly to the south and west of the town. From the higher areas up around Glanderston Road, there were magnificent views of Greater Glasgow, the Clyde Valley, Campsie Fells and the hills around Loch Lomond.
During the time that Jim and I were palling around I was keen on getting fitter, losing weight and strengthening my walking muscles and so, most mornings, I walked for about five miles. My favourite routes were up over the back roads and lanes in the direction of Neilston. I would usually set off up Aurs Road and then turn in to Auchenback Estate to go up Aurs Glen, through 'Gerry Park' and then go up the side of Saint Luke's High School to come out on Springfield Road. If I turned right towards five-ways junction, the road straight ahead was the shortest distance to Neilston. Once in that village I would turn right onto Neilston Road from where it was then left at Donnie's Brae, through Gateside to arrive at Barrhead Station via Graham Street. If I chose to turn left onto Springhill Road at the five-ways junction the road would take me up higher, towards Snypes Dam and Neilston Pad, (which I did climb one day) then down in to Neilston. However, if I turned left at Saint Luke's High School, my route was a right turn almost in front of the school entrance. This road was uphill from the start then a break that helped my breathing as it dived down to go under the railway line that serves Neilston before sweeping gently upwards to the right. A farm lay to the left before a climb to a T junction where straight ahead would lead me in the direction of Netherplace and Malletsheugh (what a grand name, and what grand problems its pronunciation will surely cause many people) with Balgray Reservoir lying below to my left. At this point, I could take a lane down towards the reservoir, to get on the Newton Mearns road and back to Barrhead on Aurs Road again. I mostly chose to turn right at the T junction to go across Glanderston Road and meet up with Springhill Road where it was left then right to enter Neilston by Kirkton Road and finally Kingston Road. There was splendid countryside here with Snypes Dam hidden off up a lane to the left while a little further on a turn left into a lane took me down past Craig of Neilston farm to come out on Kingston Road by the Water Works. These last routes were the best of all, especially so on Tuesdays, as I'll now explain.
Jimmy wasn't in shape to walk very far considering he was in his eighties and been forced to walk many hundreds of weary, heavy-footed miles across Germany during his long years as a prisoner of war; he had done his share of distance walking!
I usually walked for about two hours and would leave Barrhead at 10:00 having arranged with Jim to meet up in the car park across the road from Neilston Kirk Church Hall. I would be travelling along that road for the final 200 yards of my walk while Jim would travel in his wee, green, Fiat 600 car (how well it served him, and us, on our jaunts). Always being 'the early bird', Jim would be there to wave me on as I eagerly walked those last yards. No, we weren't going to attend a church service; this was our gourmet delight of the week, SOUP! 'Well! What's so wonderful about soup?' the reader might rightly think. Let me try to set the scene for you as it touched Jimmy and me. You see, for us, it wasn’t simply a bowl of soup; it was a social occasion where lunch was served, though only on Tuesdays, and we just could not miss that date!

Exchanging greetings and patter we at once headed for the door of the Church Hall, where delicious home cooked food would be simmering - there was no 'hingin' aroond'. We were regularly the first customers in the porch, often standing with our noses to the crack of the inner door if it was not yet 'opening time'. We would make our presence obvious and someone would invite us to come in. Oh, the atmosphere, especially on cold or rainy days, and those weren't scarce! Warmth, welcoming tantalising whiffs from the soup pots wafting towards the open door propelled us forward. Older fellows we might be but the serving table was reached in double quick time! There would be three pots of soup on the hobs, each pot holding a different delight (which reminds me of the saying, 'For every pot there is a lid'; work that one out for yourself). The pots would be gently bubbling, giving out such appetising smells that defied resistance; – we always surrendered to the delights on offer. Mostly we would choose different soups and then compare notes, which almost inevitably led to us going round again for a change of variety. Then there was the cake table laden with forbidden treats for me, who was on a lose weight programme, but as I had already surrendered to the soups it was easy to do so again. The cakes were very popular with the school-children that came in around 12:00 so we chose ours before starting on our soups. A cup of tea or two (free refills) with meringues and scones ended our extremely good value meal beautifully, after which we would relax and chat for a wee. Jim was a kinda 'Heid Bummer' in the hall as he had been a Church Elder and, that apart, he was known and adored by all the members there. Numerous people, including the Minister, would come over to our table to share a few words with him, just as Jim would walk around greeting others. The Neilston Church Hall was our favourite eating place, though we had a few good haunts; the Church Hall in Lowndes Street in Barrhead was also extremely good and we went there regularly. Jim ate often in The Barrhead Sports Centre and I sometimes joined him there; what drew us to a place was the quality of the soup. I am a soup-lover but I've never known a person, man or woman, who enjoyed their soup more than James Drummond Sharp! Boy oh boy! To see Jim in full flight with his soup was a fine reward for any of the good people who had so lovingly prepared it. Jimmy, as the staff at Barrhead Sports Centre called him, was also 'well got' at the Cafeteria there. He would give his order, the lady serving would tell him to sit down, and that she would see to things. Meanwhile I was seeing to my own things! A plate of soup would be brought to Jimmy and such a plateful it was that when he put his spoon in to the soup it almost flowed over the edges. Aye, Jimmy is well loved there too!

Every two weeks or so Jim and I would go off on an excursion, always in the morning outside of rush hour when the traffic was lighter, with the aim of being at our destination for lunch. We would look over a big road atlas and choose our spots, and our routes; we always travelled by the quiet old roads and lanes whenever possible and so could see and appreciate the countryside. Jim was a country fellow and knew a lot about nature and her ways, having spent most of his working life in gardening; he was Head Gardener for Barrhead Council when he retired. We had many a good laugh about his gardening exploits; in fact, when we were in the car on a trip we seemed to spend the whole of the journey laughing. I can truly say that never in my life have I laughed so constantly, and for such long periods, as I did when with Jimmy, and he did his share of laughing too often striking his fist in to the palm of his hand with the excitement of the moment. Both of us had lived in those far back times that always seem to be referred to as 'The Olden days' and could therefore chat about those times and exchange experiences. We both enjoyed using good old Scottish words and sayings that are fast disappearing from our tongue; here are some sayings:

Dinnae fash yersel, laddie
Haud yer wheesh, ye'd gie a bunnet a sair heid
Och, thur aw dumplins up that close
Mah man's awa tae get his buroo money n 'at
D'ye waunt a Pokey hat?
Naw, ah waunt a double nougat wae razburry
Gie's a wee tate mair
Hey Jimmy (barman), could ye put a hauf in mah pint? Aye, ah sure kin.
Right then, fill it up wae beer, ya bass
Hey Jimmy, this beer's cloudy. Whit dye waunt fur wannun a tanner, thunder 'n lightnin'?
Gonne gieus a hurl in yer motor, mister?
Remanded stew is aye better
Aye, it's a richt Snell wind

About once a month we bold fellows would drive down to Dalry on a visit to my cousin, Ian. Now that was a trip we both looked forward to making – 'drooled' forward would better describe our feelings. Ian was our favourite cook and always put on real home cooked Scottish grub; home made cakes, scones, pies, bread and SOUP! Oh, klerty guidness, whit Soup! Whit SOUP! – Bonnie Prince Charlie himself never ate the likes. I would telephone Ian to arrange our visit and he would always ask, 'whit soup dae youse waunt?' Living out there in deepest Ayrshire meant that Ian qualified as a country fellow and he does indeed have a broader accent than the good Barrhead folk; I lovingly call him my Teuchter cousin. Whatever soup it was we always gave it laldy! A second helping of soup was always the drill in Ian's parlour. We had a rare laugh one day at the way Jimmy was getting 'wired intae' his soup. You see, Jimmy Sharp did not have very sharp eyesight for close objects and so, like myself, needed glasses for reading and suchlike. The day outside was snell and keen so that when we stepped inside Ian's cosy, warm house we were rarin' to get stuck intae the soup. Ian always had the grub absolutely ready to serve and so we organised our journey to arrive at the arranged time. Our soup was served in deep, patterned plates with clusters of vegetables painted on the inside rim; Jimmy, head down and tipping his plate towards him, was dedicated to clearing his plate. Time after time, his spoon scooped to catch the last drops that lay against the rim of the plate. Finally, Ian burst out laughing and said, 'I don't think you'll get much mair oot uh there, Jimmy son;' give me your plate and I'll fill it for you. We kidded Jimmy that he had been battering away at the vegetables painted on the plate, as he wasn't wearing his glasses, at which he burst into good-hearted laughter. We two pals got stuck in to second helpings of soup while Ian prepared to serve the next course, after which it was pudding then tea and fancies. Yes sir, we just loved our meals with Ian and all the time we were in his house kept up the most light-hearted patter; it was laughs all the way!
Sometimes, to make a change and give Ian a break we would have lunch at Dalgarven in the hotel of the same name that sits by the A737 Road between Dalry and Kilwinning. This is a super place yet inexpensive and has a huge roaring fire in the bar area, where we were served large helpings of quite delicious food by friendly people. With a half pint of Guinness to accompany his meal and laughs all the way, Jim Sharp declared himself a fan of Hotel Dalgarven and Ian and I declared ourselves in too.

With Jimmy I travelled around a good part of Ayrshire and Renfrewshire, we also made trips to Inverkeithing in Fife to admire the Forth Road and Rail Bridges, then on up on the coast to Macduff's castle at East Wemyss, in to Kinrosshire and over to Falkirk to marvel at the Falkirk Wheel, not all on the same trip! In our local Barrhead area we attended many events at the Barrhead Sports Centre, including a Japanese version of one of the works of William Shakespeare. Over to Giffnock and the Community Theatre for performance of music and dance by, I believe, a Bangladesh group; this was followed by food. We also went over there to dance classes – well, at least we listened to the music and chatted to some nice people. We visited the libraries at Neilston, Newton Mearns and Eaglesham, where Jimmy visited an old pal who used to live in Barrhead. The British Legion Club at Newton Mearns also got a visit or two, as did Paisley Town Hall where we went to several tea dances in the afternoons; aye, we two Buddies, as they'd say in Paisley 'didn't let the grass grow under our feet' – and it was fun and laughter all the way.
Thank you James Drummond Sharp, thank you for giving me so, so much from your wonderfully warm and human character, for being such a humorous and enchanting travelling companion, thank you for your gift of friendship, which I treasure. I can never forget the happiness and laughter we shared, and during the rest of my life, when I recall those times, will be reminded that –

Aye, Barrhead Is Braw. Keep well, Jimmy,

Written by Frank McKell

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Frank McKell in Barrhead Library


Frank McKell and Jim Sharpe going 'Doon the Watter'


Local Barrhead poet and Oracle of knowledge, Jim Sharpe


Jim Sharpe playing the fiddle


Jim Sharpe