A source of great pride to me as a child of eight years old, was my hairstyle –
fashioned by my ‘Lamplighter’ Auntie, Maggie. It was usually before we set off
for school, probably about 7.30 am, that Auntie Maggie would call in from her
lamplighter round, to spend time with her older sister, my Mother. There
would be a contest between myself and two brothers to see who could get
the ‘putting-off’ pole and run up all the closes in nearby
Burndyke Street, and a few in Govan Road, to switch off the gaslight on each of
the three-storey landings. The job would take about thirty minutes and we loved the thrill of it.
The pole was about three feet long with a metal end. This had a slot which fitted
into a metal piece below the gaslight mantle and we would turn this to switch
off the gas.
Disappointingly, we were not allowed to do the even more
exciting job of switching on the gaslights in the evening – obviously, earlier
in winter than the long, light summer nights. The lighting-up pole was about
five feet long; bigger to reach above the mantle and it had a round metal box
attached which held carbide, kind of like a blowlamp and a nozzle which was lit. There was a
slot similar to the switching-off pole, needed to switch the gaslight on before
applying the flame to light-up.
As children we used to look in the gutters in
the evening, as it was a common practice for the leeries to
empty the used carbide near to one of the many big metal ‘stanks’ by the pavement. I remember
the pungent smell the carbide gave off -- and when placed in a puddle it would
fizz for ages. I don’t recall any accidents from the probably very toxic
white powder, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be allowed nowadays.
Auntie Maggie was a big favourite with our family – not only because of her lamplighting job. I was one of five brothers and two younger sisters. My Mother, I’m sure, didn’t have time to fuss over five boys getting ready for school – but Auntie Maggie would wet my hair and put waves in or just the one big wave right at the front of my head. Sounds crazy and a bit jessie – but it made me feel, well, as I said, kind of proud. When I think about it now, I’m sure that ‘Oor Wullie’ would definitely not have let me into his gang -- behaving like that?
The Lamplighting
Depot was in Broomloan Road, close to the ‘Potted Heid’ Bank, just behind where
the Orkney Street Police cells were. It was quite a sight to see the army of
Leeries almost marching along. They carried their lighting-up sticks as if shouldering arms, setting-off on a designated route to bring
light to dark and dingy closes around Govan. Auntie Maggie was a big favourite with our family – not only because of her lamplighting job. I was one of five brothers and two younger sisters. My Mother, I’m sure, didn’t have time to fuss over five boys getting ready for school – but Auntie Maggie would wet my hair and put waves in or just the one big wave right at the front of my head. Sounds crazy and a bit jessie – but it made me feel, well, as I said, kind of proud. When I think about it now, I’m sure that ‘Oor Wullie’ would definitely not have let me into his gang -- behaving like that?
I don’t know if there is any truth in the story that a politician of that day made his manifesto the following: a promise that blind people would not have to pay for the stairheid gas; hot water pipes throughout the cemeteries; a glass roof over Glasgow to give carters an inside job.
2 comments:
Lovely stuff!
I was transported back in time for a bit there! Still remember the hissing of the gas lamp in the landing outside our door.
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