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> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post 9th Dec 2018, 06:40pm
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The tales of Hector and ‘The Bruce’

Walking back

Queens park is the home of fabulous Hill Sixty, where generation after generation of fine courting couples, cuddled and coddled inside grass nests of all ages. For Hector, a distant past reminder of halcyon days for a succession of boys, devoted to acting as cowboys and Indians, around its top boulders. Most boys then also played football and for them to hear the famous ‘Hamden Roar’, gratis, was a cherish moment never forgotten

Hector very first Best Mate, ‘The Bruce’, who lived in Pollokshaws Road right across from the park. Both of them met up with 10 to 12 teenagers in the Brookland café, at the corner of Minard Rd and Frankford St. Two regular girls waited tables, Helen and Betty, Helen with a fine hour glass figure particularly sticking out for attention of adolescents. Above all else, they were good to our unofficial group, allowing them to sit, many a night, with just a few coke bottles on show for far longer that the proprietor Tony, would have wished.

The boy members felt liberated, free to conquer all before them, truly imagined all girls would melt in their acquaintance of worldly ways. The blokes thought they were in tiptop prime, discovering the glories of sex complete with all its hidden wonders, nevertheless they were novices at best. Knowing the basics through tell tales, or someone’s interpretation of the dictionary or to what they had been told by their enlightened parents or even better by slightly older teenagers.

Hector was lucky, his much older brother, had been liberal explaining facts as they stood. Everything from the proper names, diagrams and information could be used to educate the scholar of any degree. The trouble was that, although he had all the theory behind him in great abundance, but possessed just as much ignorance, as all the rest, to actually how to go about it. Akin to ‘Morecombe and Wise’…” the facts are all …but perhaps not in the right order?”

‘The Bruce’ and Hector were not really ordinary blokes when it came to the looks department, and according to early photo’s (pictures don’t lie) well below par. They realized quickly, there were guys better looking than themselves, such as a fella called Graham Love, who could have stood in for Cliff Richard when he had gone to Shawlands Cross Church for Christmas service, wearing pink socks, Cliff not Graham.

The fault in the looks department, didn’t really deter them from the Cooper’s Institute, a local Saturday rave, tying with the opposite sex, although ‘The Bruce’s’ immediate chat up line was strange, asking the creed they followed. It’s no secret, the faith of his would-be partner, was paramount to the success of the evening…which seldom happened. Looking back, both were shy, Hector managed quickly to re balance while ‘The Bruce’ stayed insecure and deliberate almost to an insulting point.

One night at the Cooper’s institute. Hector and ‘The Bruce’ managed to grab the attention of two girls. One girl Hector knew stayed local, the other he asked if he could walk her home. When the dance ended the other girl, and ‘The Bruce’ sauntered to the trolleybus stop. Hector’s date motioned to cross the road for her transport which was unfortunately a bus to Eaglesham. On arriving at her house, they were just getting comfortable when the father came out, in a grumpy manner.

The girl sharply informed Hector, they had caught the last bus, and he would have to walk. Hector had no choice but to react as a proper gentleman… started to walk back the 10 miles or so, when the rain burst open it’s almighty wants.

Arriving home drenched to the skin, while undressing, switched on his wee tranny, playing; Helen Shapiro, belting out…” Walkin’ back to happiness’…that certainly made his day?
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