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Some recent
Garrowhill
memories of
Barb and I visited Toronto two years ago (2004)and I met up with Forbie (mentioned in the Garrowhill story) for the first time in 52 years. He lives in Windsor, near Chicago.
Barb and I went back
to Garrowhill last
July (2005).
Up early to buy the
necessities from the
local shop; bread,
milk, butter and in
this case a mutton
pie! "You had a
mutton pie for
breakfast?" I can
hear you ask.
Well, in this case, it was my first mutton pie in fourteen years and it was a good excuse. Barb didn't agree. She is always watching my wiastline! It was then that we took off for Garrowhill Primary School. I hadn't been there for nearly sixty years. The vice principal, Janis Smith, took us on tour. Not much had changed, although the security was strict and anti-vandal systems that were never thought of, were now in place. The cloak rooms had been converted to class rooms and the children now used the wide corridors to hang their coats and jackets (and their art work and funny wee stories). The stage in the main hall had been removed to give more room for indoor sports.
When we visited
the year one
classroom I was
invited to talk
to the
children. There
they were, all
dressed in fine
looking uniforms
and instead of
curly mops the
wee boys all had
number one
haircuts. I told
the class that
we never had
such fine
looking uniforms
because there
was a war on.
The teacher (who
had visited
Melbourne a few
times) told the
children
that the last
time I was in
this room it was
sixty four years
ago. They all
said "wow". I
felt ancient!
The teacher told
me that our
first ever
teacher Miss
Mitchell, who
everybody
loved, had been
run over by a
truck in the
mid seventies.
She died as a
result of her
injuries. That
was very sad.
As we strolled
outside in the
play ground, I
noticed the
gardens in front
of the main
entrance were
all fenced
in. Mrs. Smith
said it was to
prevent
vandalism. That
too, was sad. At
that point a wee
boy came up to
Janis looking
quite disturbed
and asked her
"Awe Mrs
Smith ,dae ye
think ye could
dae up ma shoe
laces, thur gaen
me bother?"
I smiled, I
thought to
myself that
Garrowhill
children didn't
speak Baillie
talk.I probably
understand now
why people
didn't
understand me
when I first
arrived in
Melbourne in
1951. It was a
magic visit.
We had a great
time in the area for
a week staying at a
self catering unit
in The Knowes, Riddrie,
and picking up fish
and chips at the
nearby shopping
centre.
I don't think I
told you John,
but about two
years ago (2006)
a lady from
Queensland got
in touch with
me. She had read
the Garrowhill
story and it
turned out that
she was in my
class at
Garrowhill
Primary. She
went on to tell
me, that for
years she had
been telling
friends, and her
three sons,
about this
little
scoundrel, "wee
stevie" who
had promised to
trade her a
puppy, for her
rabbit and
hutch. She had
given me the
rabbit and hutch
but she never
got her puppy.
Well I remember
that rabbit, and
how much I loved
it, but it had
escaped my mind
where it had
come from. I
must have been a
real conman.
Well Barb and I
visited Moira
Clowe (nee
Stewart) a year
ago and we spent
a fantastic
three days with
her and husband
Jim. Naturally I
took a toy puppy
with me as a
present. We
still keep in
touch and will
be visiting them
again some time
this July, we
hope.
So thanks once
again for your
efforts in
keeping people
together, even
if the years do
roll by.
Slainte,
"Wee Stevie" AKA
Alistair
Stevenson
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