January - Don't Be Angry With Me

The first full working week of 2019 has now been done and filed away. The time of peace and goodwill to all is but a distant memory as the frantic pressure of working life takes hold once again. The build up to Christmas gets earlier and earlier with each passing year and before you know it the festive season is over – until the frenzy starts all over again in a few months.

Yet, there is something strangely comforting about the return to a routine. Not working for a couple of weeks is something I usually look forward to, but my mindset changes and I become lethargic. Like so many others I usually eat far too much rubbish and consume more alcohol than is good for me. I lapse into cannae-be-arsed mode (some people may say they don't notice any difference)

Therefore, returning to the discipline of getting up at the same time every day, going to work, dealing with the everyday pressures of life brings a normality which is akin to being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold winters day.

By George, I’ve even returned to the gym this week – for the first time since November. This took a huge amount of effort at first but come Friday it was becoming routine once more.

Work is frenetic and with nothing happening for more than two weeks there has been a plethora of meetings, conference calls and objective settings. Everything is, of course, extremely urgent with the world being threatened with coming to an end if certain tasks are not completed IMMEDIATELY. And, among the many ‘buzzwords’ are ‘there’s no ‘I’ in team; going forward; thinking outside the box, setting long-term objectives and looking at the wider picture’

There’s no ‘I’ in team but there is a ‘m’ and an ‘e’… (can you sense my cynicism?

Christmas was less than three weeks ago but it seems ages now. That said, Leith still seems to be clinging on to the wreckage of the festive season. At the foot of Leith Walk (the thoroughfare that links Edinburgh to the old port) the burgh’s Christmas tree is not only still standing but remains fully lit – 12 days into the New Year. Which merely adds to the winter fuel where Leith folk believe they are neglected by their big city neighbours who run the council services for Scotland’s capital.

Or perhaps, as my good pal Gary suggested after a few pints of foaming ale last night, every day is Christmas in Leith…

Gretna's Rail Disaster

Photo: Electric Edwardians

One hundred years ago the worst accident in British railway history occurred at Quintinshill, near Gretna Green in the Scottish borders. At 3.45am on 22 May 1915, a troop train carrying 498 officers and men of the 7^th Battalion the Royal Scots – many of whom were from Leith - left Larbert in Stirlingshire en route to Liverpool. They were due to head for the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey where casualties in the Great War had been tragically high.

About 6.49am, this train, travelling at high speed, collided with a local passenger train which had been shunted on to the main line at Quintinshill. Seconds later, an express train travelling from Glasgow to London ploughed into the wreckage.

The troop train, with its antiquated gas lighting system and wooden carriages, quickly became a blazing inferno. With the huge demands on the railway network as a result of the Great War, old rolling stock had to be pressed into service, hence the age of the train. The raging fire engulfed all three trains and another two goods trains nearby.

216 men of the 7^th Battalion the Royal Scots perished in the disaster along with 11 others including the driver and the fireman of the troop train. A further 246 people were injured. At a roll call taken later that day, only 65 men were present. Initially, these men were sent onwards to Liverpool but, following a medical examination, were sent back home for two weeks leave.

Of those who died, some bodies were unrecognisable and the bodies of 50 men were never recovered. Four of the bodies at the crash site were children. The remains of those men who could be identified were returned to the Battalion’s drill hall in Dalmeny Street in Leith and burials took place in Rosebank Cemetery, Pilrig Street on 24 May 1915. The funeral cortege was lined with thousands of people from Dalmeny Street to the cemetery. Coffins were laid three deep, each row covered by a Union Flag, in a ceremony which took three hours and ended with the Last Post. A memorial stands in the cemetery today with the names of those who died.

The cause of the disaster was a result of poor working practices on the part of the two signalmen at Quintinshill. George Meakin, who had shunted a local passenger train on to the main line for operational reasons, should have been off-duty, but due to an informal arrangement between himself and the relieving man, James Tinsley, continued to work until his arrival. Meakin also omitted to place a locking collar on the levers of the southbound signal. Tinsley, preoccupied writing his log from the notes left by his colleague, overlooked the passenger train standing in full sight of the box and accepted the troop train from the north, clearing the signals for the approaching train.

The troop train ploughed into the stationary passenger train, creating a scene of devastation and carnage. Within about a minute, a northbound express ran into the wreckage causing further destruction and killing and injuring many who had survived the first impact. To add to the horror, hot coals from the locomotives then set fire to escaping gas from the troop trains lighting equipment and the debris of the timber carriages quickly became an inferno.

After legal proceedings in both Scotland and England, both signalmen were put on trial afterwards, as well as the fireman of the local passenger train who, it was alleged, failed to protect his train.

The trial ended after just a day and a half.  Meakin was sentenced to imprisonment for 18 months for culpable homicide while Tinsley was sentenced to three years hard labour. The fireman of the local passenger train was acquitted.

A tragic day for the families of the husbands, fathers, brothers and friends who were lost in what is the saddest entry to the history of Leith in modern times. It has been said by some historians that no family in Leith was unaffected by the tragedy. It was also Edinburgh’s tragedy with casualties from Portobello and Musselburgh.

Leith, Edinburgh and the nation will never forget them.

Living in Leith...

...is great. I really do enjoy it. Especially some of the local landmarks...

Leith Walk

 

Easter Road Stadium

 

 

 Ant and Dec

 

*photographs shamelessly stolen from Leith Jambos

The Return of The Ranter

Sunshine on, erm, Leith...

 

It is often said that marriage is an institution. It is often said I should be in one but that’s another story. Last year was a difficult one for me as my marriage of 30 years came to an end. Of course, I’m not the only person to go through a painful separation after a long marriage so I won’t dwell on the gory details except to say my family and friends were shocked by the news. The consensus seemed to be that of all the people they knew who were married, my marriage was the one they didn’t expect to fall apart. C’est la vie and all that. However, their shock at the demise of my marriage was replicated shortly afterwards when they discovered I was heading to Leith…

Since 1990, I had lived in Dalkeith, the heart of Midlothian. Now I realise that’s not a description likely to go down too well with readers of this esteemed publication. And, yes, I must tell you, dear reader, I am a lifelong Hearts supporter as the numerous lines on my face and greying, if rapidly diminishing, hairline will tell you. So having digested the news that my marriage was over, those close to me thought it was a ‘double whammy’ when news broke that I was going to live in ‘enemy territory’.

Hearts supporters of my acquaintance thought the break up of my marriage had had an adverse affect on my mental health. ‘You’re moving to where?’ they asked, with consistently high degrees of incredulity. ‘Don’t you know that’s the dark side of town? You’ll be perilously close to Hibernian FC, who hate Jam Tarts and hate Dundee (I don’t think many Hibees do hate Dundee, it’s just that it conveniently rhymes with FC) Can’t you move to Gorgie?

The truth is that, initially, I did move to Gorgie for six months. A stones throw away from that well-known drinking establishment popular with people of the maroon persuasion, The Athletic Arms, known locally as The Diggers. However, in July last year I moved to a place just off Great Junction Street. And, I have to say to my family, friends and fellow Hearts supporters - I love living in Leith. As a ‘Leith Jambos’ banner at last year’s William Hill Scottish Cup Final declared, I suspect I’m not the only Hearts fan declaring those sentiments.

It’s only when you move to the city from the suburbs that you appreciate the advantages of living in town. I actually lived in Mayfield, a suburb of Dalkeith and a sad example of suburban decay. There is little of any interest in Mayfield aside from a couple of pubs and bookmakers. It’s a 15-minute bus journey from Dalkeith which itself has little to offer aside from more pubs and bookmakers - and cafes. You have another 30-45 minutes bus journey from Dalkeith before you sample the cultural delights of Auld Reekie (clearly, I’m excluding Gilmerton from this…)

Leith, however, is different. It’s an exciting, vibrant community rightly proud of its history and still hankering after the days when it was an independent borough and Edinburgh only began at Pilrig Street. There’s a character about Leith that shouts out from the pavements of Leith Walk as you head down from the city. Famous names adorn the streetlamps proclaiming (do you see what I did there?) their love for the place.

The Kirkgate Shopping Arcade may have been a consequence of an ill-thought 1960s architectural dream but there is a character about it that marks it out from other similar shopping arcades. Something, which the people of Leith might say, perhaps has its faults - but it’s theirs.

Constitution Street, The Shore and Commercial Street are laden with history and tales of a bygone age when Leith was a major port. A history should never be forgotten and will never be forgotten.  Fine organisations such as the Leith Historical Society - to which I have attended several events - will ensure this is the case.

The numerous Polish, Chinese and Mediterranean supermarkets along Leith Walk illustrate the diverse nature of the area. On my way to work every morning, I cross Great Junction Bridge and take inspiration from the Water of Leith below; the tranquillity of the cycle path and walkway running alongside is a haven from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I close my eyes and imagine the great steam trains of yesteryear trundling under the bridge and the steam wafting to the street above.

I haven’t forgotten Mayfield in Dalkeith as my daughter and my three wonderful grandchildren live there and I see them every weekend. And being a season ticket holder at Tynecastle, my trips to Gorgie are still as frequent (despite some of the performances of the boys in maroon this season) However, despite being here for less than a year, I now look forward to coming home to Leith. I never thought someone who has been a Hearts fan for 45 years would say that - but, believe me I mean it.  My heart is now firmly resident here.

 

Even if this means I will still have to go to Gorgie to see a victorious football team in an open-top bus….

 

Mike Smith

Twitter @Mike1874

 

 

ps as if to prove my love affair with Leith has been consummated, this article has just been published in The Leither Magazine.