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Summer in ye olde Sneck


dougiedanger

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Don't know if there has been a thread on this, but put yer memories of summers in Sneck right here, how ye all played out til the sun went down, on yer bogies, 20v20 games of footer, danger goalies, headers and volleys, swimming in the river/canal, BB camp, berry picking, getting p*shed on warm Tennents, the Green hut, the shows, etc, etc.

 

Let's

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I would play golf at Torvean about 3 times a week in my school holidays. Always shot 115 or so. Never seemed to improve. My 'treat' was getting a bottle of 'Moray Cup' after nine holes. And a packet of smoky bacon crisps. Bought from a guy who thought he was presiding over Augusta National.

 

For the younger posters, Moray Cup was certainly not an award!

Instead, it was a small bottle of sickly sweet red sugary fizzy juice which would get obliterated by an angry 3-wood on the 11th tee!

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Living up the Craig in the late 60's was great - cracking 9 hole golf course, tennis courts, bowling green at my front door, excellent football pitch - can remember kick abouts with the ground staff which included Murd Urquhart and Roy Lytham. Skinny dipping in the Top Pond - camping out in the woods with cheap cider and Scotsmac.

Then I moved to Lochend and it was underage trail bikes, bbq's on the beach - football on the hill with the Frasers - a pool table in the house and parties when my Mum was on nights.

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The Craig was indeed a great playground, golf, football and tennis during the day, up again to watch some Welfare football at night, the Craig supporters some of the most colourful in the league. Hughie Douglas effing and blinding on the touchline.

 

What about the great Welfare teams of yore?

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  • 3 weeks later...

We'd somehow manage to convince a mechanic in a garage to give us the inner tube of a tractor tyre...and blow it up for us...and we'd proceed to roll it up to the Islands and spend hours going up and down the 'rapids'... We had absolutely no concept of time...had no money...and not a care in the world...back in the late 60s...

At the end of the day we'd float down the river...right in the middle...much to the amusement of tourists and locals...and the odd fisherman out in his waders...down to the Grieg street bridge...and from there a short walk back up to Dalneigh...

At other times we might stop at the Castle and spend an hour or two sliding down the hill on cardboard boxes...and it wasn't unknown for someone to hit the wall at the bottom and go flying over it onto the road...

Or we might float down to the Black Bridge...hoping the current wouldn't catch us and sweep us down to the rocks a little further down! and pop into to see someone's aunt or granny who lived around Grant Street...and hope that she might get her purse out and send us off with sixpence...or whatever a bag of chips might have cost at the time...

Swimming in the Canal...perhaps find a rope swing...

Cycle up...or at least push your bike up The Craig...only to come flying back down at what must have been 50 mph...with no brakes! and hope that you managed to get around the bottom corner without hitting an oncoming car...or flying right into the Canal!

Strawberry picking...or stealing apples from a garden...makeshift tent in the back garden...with a couple of jam sandwiches...

Changed days... Summers were magical... We hadn't a care in the world...no concept of time...of danger...and imagination ruled the day. You could be anything, do anything... Good times.

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AND IT NEVER EVER SEEME

 

wHERE THE pIMPLE IS NOW , IN WESTERN V=Canada, WE NEVER EVER SEEM TO GET SUNNY SUMMERS..ALWAYS CLOUDY OR RAINING.

THIS YEAR HAS BEEN THE WORST EVER WITH HORIBLE FLOODING ALL OVER THE COUNTRY

 

then--suddenly- we get a heatwaveand have sweltered for 5 or 6 weeks without a drop. I understand you hac=ve had 36 degrees in Invernesss. Man oh man that must be a record

 

Still, it good to feel that heat and my arthritis has improved and I have thrown away one of my crutches. :laugh:

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We'd somehow manage to convince a mechanic in a garage ......

Changed days... Summers were magical... We hadn't a care in the world...no concept of time...of danger...and imagination ruled the day. You could be anything, do anything... Good times.

Derek that post is a masterpiece of a reflection on the degree of freedom which quite young kids had maybe 40 plus years ago, compared with now. The things you were allowed to do at an early age whic would be unthinkable to parents now.

Your reference to strawberry picking reminds me of when, in about P7, we would, unsupervised, get a bus out to Lentran for a day's picking and I also have a clear recollection of walking back towatrds Inverness along what was then the main A9.

Then in the autumn, having wandered the streets at will in the pitch dark without being mugged for the nuts, oranges and threepeny bits you had got for Halloween, you would set about building the Guy Fawkes bonfire - in our case on the wasteland behind st Valery Avenue (aka the back of Kavvies').

Having done that you would sit out for a few nights, with only a smaller fire to combat more pitch dark, "guarding" the bonfire in case boys from the Ferry came along to set it alight on your behalf.

And then, when Guy Fawkes night came along, it was time to let off the huge stash of fireworks which had been built up in the cupboard under the stairs in my wooden Swedish house!!!! These were fireworks which any 10 year old could buy in Toyland or Christison's shop where you would often split open the bangers,which could be bought in boxes of a dozen, and make "genies" with the piles of gunpowder.

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I remember so well taking a shortcut down godsmans walk to Bellfield park, where you could, during Wimbledon become a tennis expert,  if that was too busy table tennis was on offer or an ice cream from smelly murd in the wee shop.

Also just remember the scripture union meetings there on sundays where we could crawl through bushes and make faces at the poor loons made to endure the outdoor services.

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And in any case, Guy Fawkes Night is a summer celebration in southern hemisphere countries like Argentina and Chile since November is early summer down there.

 

 

 

And what better pastime, of a summer's eve, than a spot of fishing!

 

:lol:  :lol:

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@CharlesBannerman... Ahh strawberry picking out at Lentran...on the A862...about half way to Beauly. I seemed to remember there were organised double decker buses laid on to take anyone and everyone who wanted to head there for the day - and I seem to remember that even a lunch - or at least a sandwich was laid on...as I for one, never gave the slightest thought of bringing anything to eat with me - pick four strawberries...eat two...who needed a packed lunch!

We must have only been ten or eleven years old...pocket money - if we had any...might have been a shilling or so...but a good days picking could rake in a pound or so!!

There were all ages...babes in arms...big sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandads and grannies - all of them strangers...and we chatted to them all - and again not a care in the world - and never a hint of danger...we had no fear of 'strangers...'

Walking home...whenever you felt like leaving...following the wall along the A862...knowing you should be walking on the other side of the road - facing oncoming traffic...but cars were few and far between...and I seemed to remember that at Buncrew? there was a little shop...so we'd stop off for a drink and maybe a packet of crisps - the bag with a wee bag of salt in them to add as you wished...

We'd continue on our way...thumb out to any car that might pass by... Can you imagine a ten year old hitch hiking these days...?!

Finally Clachnaharry...and maybe a passing trawler...or pleasure boat - and we'd hitch a lift up the locks to the canal...and discover the wonders of radar from a kindly boat owner...perhaps be allowed to look through binoculars...

More than once we'd say thanks...and literally jump of the boat where the boatyard is on the canal now...and swim ashore...and down the muddy path which led us down to the 'Kavies'...and from there a short walk home...jumping over the school fence - somehow thinking that the Janitor spent his entire day looking out for 'trespassers...'

Through the grass at the back of the church...down the lane at the side of the Scout Hall...and home through the back door of Laurel Avenue...

No mobile phones...no phone at home...nobody knowing where you were, or had been...nobody really caring - because it was safe, and that's what summers were for - discovering your world...and what a world it was...the best of worlds. And what a time and place to grow up in - summer in Dalneigh...in what used to be Inverness... How lucky were we?!

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  • 2 weeks later...

DK60==great post;  brought a lot of memories back.

 

Sigh, yes, the days before any phones, let alone cell phones.  Few cars also. Cheap gasoline. On the bike and away at the toot that was our life. 

 

Balmy days of Summer ..can't remember many rainy days, always out at night playing on the street etc.

 

We shouldn't forget these early days of our lives because we were really innocent in my young day and our wants were few and far between. What we needed we made or found something else to do.

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