the street where i grew up

From my second to about 13 years old, I lived in Glasgow’s East End with my mother Anne, my saleswoman, and Father John, my television engineer, in a second-floor apartment with only two bedrooms and an en-suite bathroom. . But it was a big step up from the one-bedroom and exterior bathroom apartment in the Gorbals neighborhood where I spent my first two years.

It may sound strange now, but until I was thirteen, my parents, my parents, and my brother Graham, who came in when I was six, slept in a single bedroom: mom and dad in a double bed, Graham and I on a bunk bed. beds. But they all did. When Graham entered the scene, he was shocked.

With her big blue eyes, chubby cheeks, and curly hair, she was like a full-on role-playing kid, so she was the center of attention. Frankly, I hated him and we fought like cats and dogs, but now we get along well.

In the corner of the living room was a kitchenette with sink and stove and a table where we could eat our meals. We used to wash in the sink and once a week we would go to the public restrooms on nearby Ruby Street for a good wash in the big stainless steel tub.

In the winter we had a coal fire in the living room but there was nothing in the bedroom so there was ice in the windows. My mother turned our apartment into a small building: it was clean and bright and made her feel very welcome.

We always had plenty to eat and beautiful clothes. We were considered very gracious by some of our neighbors!

Lorraine as a young man playing on the street in Glasgow

Since my father was a television technician, we had the first color television on the street and everyone came to watch. We spent a day at the beach and Loch Lomond on the Ayrshire coast.

My parents taught me to read and write before school, which was a huge plus. They were young when I was born, so they listened to cool 60’s music like The Rolling Stones, The Beatles and Dusty Springfield and played vinyl LPs and radiogram singles.

What impressed me the most was the sense of community where everyone cares about each other. We kids played ball games and hide and seek in the street, and Batman and Superman wore our gym bags as capes on the old disused railroad nearby.

We also played what we call “Flower Shops” by breaking tin cans to sell or glass for money. Mothers threw ‘a piece of jam’ – a sandwich – to the children to eat on the street and we played outside until dark.

Some people may see it as a difficult childhood, but we were all together. And while many of my friends may not have much material possessions, I was lucky and grew up without a loving family.

In 1972, when I was about 13, our apartment was convicted as part of Glasgow slum rehabilitation. Housing officials inspected the apartments, and if they found your “good” family, you would be sent to a modern home in the new town of East Kilbride, so so were we.

I was sad to be separated from my friends, many of whom I had lost. But soon we started a new life in a beautiful house with a bathroom and a garden. I also had my own room.