Funny thing when you take steps back into when and where you grew up. The old cliché of  ‘yar da’s double’ does indeed become fact, and the look through ye old black and white family photos add proof to the pudding.

I even walk the same way as my dad, and my big sister Jeanette and I both shared the unfortunately genetic curse of ra ‘Coo’s Lick’. Kinda like a Bill Haley curl in  your hair, but the other way up.

During my maturing years I, like many of you (come on admit it!), went through many fashion disasters inflicted on me by my parents – sorry Mum. Skinny-rib jumpers, polo necks,  etc, many of which were  bought at Bargain Kings at the Saltmarket. The shop had a huge pair of y-fronts on display.

My local primary school (Wolsely Street) was located at the corner of Wolsely Street and Logan Street. Designed like that of many other schools around that era. The boys and girls occupied separate playgrounds, divided by a fence and the outside toilets. My  dusty old memory cells recall an outside building that we used as a gym hall – am I right?

The pupils then were a hungry bunch and every day the school dinners were delivered in large shiny metal containers. My favourite delicacies were ‘custard and caramel cake’.

During an accidental knock over (on my part) of several of the  containers, I had a surprise run in, or should I say ‘run through’, with a small stream of custard and soup as it made its colourful way along the pavement. There followed a swift retreat home into my mum’s wardrobe, ending with a ‘chap’ at the door by one of my teachers.

The playground itself provided us all with an outlet for all our charged-up energies and, on occasion, a retreat from one of the many characters unique to Oatlands. A man known as ‘Celtic Joe’, who, when greeted with the chant of Rangers! Rangers!, tried his best to grab a hold of anyone within his reach.

I’m very pleased at the response from those who also share past fond memories of Oatlands. A recent contact from Margaret Taylor of Nitshill who shared a glimpse into her own piece of Oatlands history recalls, ‘I liked Mary Hamilton’s story of her life in Oatlands. I, too, was born and raised there and we lived at 21 Wolseley Street, round the corner  from the Ritz cinema. Mary lived at the posh end, with Toryglen Street and Rosebery Street etc. having ‘wally closes’.

In 1957, my husband and I had our first home, a single apartment, in 27 Wolseley Street when we married in 1957. We lived across from the wash house and public baths, and every Friday evening or Saturday morning my friends and I queued up for a bath, rolled up towels under our arms. We sat on wooden benches in turn, waiting for the raucous voice of the attendant  shouting ‘Next’.

Woe betide anyone who didn’t hear her first time over the roar of the baths filling with water! My bath was always too hot, and I was too scared of her to tell her. You couldn’t cool it as she had a special key for the taps. I would have to wait for ages until it cooled, which had her banging on the door to see if I was  alright, or to hurry up – I never knew which.  I would finally emerge from the bathroom with my legs red raw, and feeling quite faint.

If anyone out there has photographs of Oatlands, or indeed any old street shots etc., I would really appreciate being able to get copies to use in future articles, and the forthcoming ‘Oatlands Memories’ website.