School Dinners

While at the Braeport, I cycled home every day at lunchtime, jealous of my schoolmates who went for school dinners. I think it was down at the Victoria hall where they ate. Anyway, at the same time we moved to the new school, my mother got a job in the High Street and, at last, there being no one at home, I could join my peers in the school dinner hall.

By and large, I loved school meals. They cost 1/-. (That's a shilling, or 5p, for those who have forgotten) and were eaten in the dining area which lay between the assembly hall and the main classroom area. The location was immediately outside Dinger Bell's office which meant that we had to be careful of our behaviour. Dinger was our headmaster and his nickname very cleverly related to his surname of Bell. We were pretty original in our thinking in those days, eh?

My own personal favourites were cottage pie, fish and chips on a friday, lancashire hot pot and the best ever......american bean pie. This was in fact cottage pie with baked beans mixed in....fabulous. I still make it today. Must be something to do with 'comfort food' now I'm getting older. Desserts could be just as wonderful with such favourites as lemon meringue pie, steamed pudding or chocolate flapjacks alongside the more mundane tapioca or rice pudding with jam or prunes.

There were,of course, things we didn't especially care for. In my case it was macaroni cheese. Now as an adult I love the stuff but, as a 10 year old, the taste of it in my mouth made me vomit, quite literally. On one occasion and despite my strongest exhortations and ,unfortunately for my table companions, I simply could not persuade Mrs Gawlick of the dangers of forcing me to eat the evil smelling concoction.

Using me as an example, she took the first portion up from the pan and made me chew and swallow it. Big mistake! The macaroni cheese didn't even reach my stomach before it decided to make the return trip to the serving dish thus spoiling the rest of the food and my classmates' appetites. Not to mention Norman Mckinnon's surprise at seeing a 'magowan propelled  macaroni cheese guided missile' flying past his nose and plopping back into the ashet.

Another embarrassing moment in the dining hall happened again in front of Mrs Gawlick. We were always playing jokes and pranks on one another and on this occasion I pinched Ewan McGregor's fork and stuffed it up my jumper. After our meal I duly forgot all about the fork and left the table. Just as I was going past Mrs Gawlick the fork dropped out and landed with a resounding clatter on the wooden floor right at her feet. Her look said it all. To this day I can remember the accusative stare she gave me, the "Highly Dangerous Cutlery Bandit!"

Having just mentioned Ewan, I have remembered something else about him. He always called me 'Cheese.' Now my usual nickname was Gowie so why 'Cheese'? For years he would not say so I attributed it to the fact the he came from the Kinbuck/Braco neighbourhood and perhaps the people from that area were not as intellectually endowed as us, the folk from Dunblane.  In other words they were maybe 'no the full shilling.'

I need not have worried. Years later when we played football on the top pitch at the Laighills he told me. 'Alan,' he said. 'Your surname is Magowan. that is Ma-GOW-an. GOW..GOUda.....therefore...............Cheese.'  Inescapable logic.

Another anecdote in relation to Ewan was when a small group of us met up in his home area. I was hanging/swinging on a supporting wire to a telephone pale when it suddenly slackened. Thinking no more about it we moved a few yards away and continued with whatever it was we were doing.

Suddenly there was a loud 'Crrrack!' then an horrendous creaking noise and the telephone pale together with the attached wiring crashed to the ground, blocking the road. Needless to say, we moved away from the spot so as no blame could be attached to us and never heard more about the incident.

Recently I was looking around in street view in Google Maps at the same spot and there it was...the sawn-off stump of the very same telephone pale. If you are wondering why I have not been specific as to the exact location of the incident it is because I am suspicious of the authorities and have no wish to receive a bill with compound interest for a telephone pale and miscellaneous telephone wires fifty years after the event!!!

The stump...50 years on.