My wee pal Andy Black and I were strolling along Wellshot Road in the East-End of Glasgow one fine afternoon, and wherever we had been, I cannot remember, but probably we had been exploring the beautiful Tollcross Park, and it is likely that we had been disturbed by a very agitated Park Ranger, when we trespassed over the Tollcross Burn into the duck reserve, where we would have hopefully been looking for duck eggs, after all this was the 1930's in the middle of the Great Depression and it was not often that our mum's could afford to buy such luxuries as eggs, whether of the duck or hen variety.

Andy and I were probably around six years of age -just two wee boys in short trousers with the seats patched and wearing caps.

We passed the great Eastbank Academy -well it looked great to us, even though our own school, Quarrybrae School was several storeys higher; but Eastbank Academy did not have a resident ghost, which, according to the residents of Crail Street, nightly walked through the classrooms with a lighted torch.

Eastbank Academy looked very solid and important to our young eyes, unlike our own alma mater, which had been very unwisely erected on the site of a quarry, and subsequently was sinking at the rate of half-inch a year.

Wellshot Road runs from the Glasgow suburb of Tollcross to Shettleston, or in other terms -from Tollcross Road to Shettleston Road.

In a past era it had formed the main access route which Cambuslang market traders travelled after crossing the Clyde by boat, passing through the Cross of Tollcross, along Wellshot Road to the market at the Cross of Shettleston, which was located at the intersection of Wellshot and Shettleton Roads.

One of my Duncan ancestors farmed around the Cambuslang Parish district of Wellshot, but I was not to know this until 75 years later.

Making our way homeward to Parkhead, along the Wellshot Road, Andy and I came to the Wellshot Public Library and we two scruffy boys decided to go in and ask the man if we could obtain a ticket - this much we knew.

The librarian in the juvenile section of the library demanded to see our hands, palms upward.  We immediately knew by the disgusted look upon his face that he would not let us pass.  "Go home" he said, "and wash your hands, and if I see them clean when you return, I shall give you library cards and you can borrow one fiction and two non-fiction books."

So Andy and I sadly left the Library -well at least as far as a dark corner of the street where we widdled on our hands and returned to again have them scrutinised by the same librarian, but this time he let us pass, "but next time" he advised "don't just spit on your hands."

I selected a marvellous book entitled "Merrie England", but when I perused it at home, it did nothing for me, but at that stage in my life I would read anything in print, and if nothing else was available I would read the family bible, under the bedsheets with the aid of a torch.

In my second year at Primary School, the teacher asked the class of boys and girls to bring their favourite book to school next day.  Upon the day, the children proudly displayed their books and there were wondrous ones which when opened, coloured paper castles with fairies and other lovely scenes rose up, and I burst into tears; this poor wee soul was the only child who had no book to display, as his father had no job -and I dearly loved books- but how could a six-year-old-child understand the economics of that dreadful period and why he had to have a large non-matching patch on the seat of his pants?

In the early 1930's I became a member of the "Sunday Express" children's club which was called Rupert the Bear Club.  Every year on my birthday, to my great delight, I would receive a birthday card from "Rupert".  This was a marvellous idea of the Sunday Express, and which brought much pleasure to the recipient, whose birthday in those hard times would often pass unnoticed.

One of my favourite boy's magazines was about a residential English Public School [a private school] which had diverse characters, but the one, which I could certainly relate to, was Billy Bunter the fat boy who was always hungry and who was always enquiring whether a Postal Order [Money Order] from his Mater had arrived yet?  The magazine was called, I believe, "The Boy's of Greyfriars".

My all-time favourite boy's comics were the "Dandy", "Beano" and "Comic Cuts", but when the American Annual comic books with such characters as Popeye, Little Orphan Annie, Dick Tracey, Superman and many, many more characters came into the shops I dashed in with my threepence to purchase them.

Later I progressed to the "Adventure" published on Mondays, the "Wizard" on Tuesday, "Rover" on Wednesday, "Hotspur" on Thursday, and finally the "Skipper" on Friday.

However, come the weekend, I was suffering literature withdrawal symptoms so I grabbed my latest purchase and knocked on the doors of my mate's flats to see if I could exchange it.

One flat I preferred to visit was the home of a much older youth; he would bring out a pile of his comics, and whilst inspecting each one I would advise him with my best Quarrybrae School accent: "Naw, i've seen that yin," until with exasperation -as I knew he would, he would say "here take the lot", and I would grab them.

The book titles in the Public Libraries at that time were very old, and my favourite books in my early days were fairy tales such as "The Thousand Nights" with tales about Sinbad, Gulliver's Travels, etc. but later I was reading the Bulldog Drummond series and making my way through all of the Dicken's novels.

Around 1942, as a sixteen-year old wearing glasses, and working in a shipyard, one of our shop-stewards advised me to read a library book, which claimed to improve your sight by exercising your eyes.

I borrowed this book and read it, but when I read that to improve one's eyesight, you should stare into the summer sun for a lengthy period, I decided to dump the book.

Recently, some 65 years later, I was horrified to see the very same book on the shelf of one of my local public libraries!

In the middle nineteenth century, the Glasgow suburb of Gorbals had a big influx of Russian Jews fleeing the tyranny of the Czar and the Glasgow Corporation built a local Jewish Library for them.  Many of these Jews played a major role in the development of the City.

Today the City of Glasgow plays host to 45 Public Libraries including the Mitchell Library, which is reputed to be the largest reference library in Europe.

The Mitchell houses the biggest collection of Scotland's National Poet, Robert Burns' books in the world, and only the Moscow Library in Russia has more scientific books than the Mitchell.  And of course we cannot forget its collection of Glasgow books which are appropriately housed, in its Glasgow Room.

Here is some feedback from one of John Duncan's readers:

Hi All:

What a great story.  It kind of makes me a little sad however, when I see all the children (well not all, but it seems most) go through all kind of hoops to skip school, cause disturbances in schools (and much more at times) so they cannot get an education.  What has happened to our society?

Perhaps I am overstating?  I would like to hope so, but not convinced.

Regards

Frank Easton
+17 Alberta Canada

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