Reminiscences of Margaret Hamilton
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Written by Hilda McAdam   
Saturday, 09 January 2010 18:06
Reminiscences of Margaret Hamilton:

I was born in Dalry, one of six children, and when I think back, my memories seem to centre around school, the Kirk and leisure.  The primary school, where I started, is still there today, but the secondary school was, what is now, the Community Centre.  There was a cookery room, reached by going out the back; now this is a store. We knew it was time to go home when the big boys came in to put up the blackouts on the windows.  Today’s kitchen was the science room and it was a great event when gas was installed and we got Bunsen burners – magic making science experiments possible.  The science master was Mr George Kirkwood.  When I going home for lunch, I used to post his love letters from him to his girlfriend who lived in Glasgow).  George McAdam and I chatted a lot in class when he should have been working and Mr Kirkwood said one day, “If I give you two money will you go and do your blethering in the café?”

Our headmaster was Mr Singleton, and when he had to go over to the primary end to collect dinner money, or see to something, we had fun and games – what a noise!  If his daughter was home from the forces, she would lean out of the schoolhouse window, brandishing a long fishing rod and on knock the classroom window for silence.  We were all a bit scared of her.

When the dentist (Miss Millar) came to the school, she saw us all in the staff room and off we went across the road in alphabetical order in fear and trembling.  George McAdam and I arrived at the door together and George, always the gentleman, would shove me in front of him saying, “Ladies first”.

An opportunity arose for us to go to a School Camp at Gorebridge in Lothian.  Dalry joined up with people from Creetown and Kirkcudbright Academy.  One thing which sticks out in my mind was a visit we had to Edinburgh Zoo.  We each had a bag to carry our packed lunch.  The Kirkcudbright girls turned up with very posh bags.  Margaret Findlay, Jennie McNaught and I had made gingham cloth bags with cloth patches on the back and front; we felt right country bumpkins.  Whist at Camp, I chummed up with the Creetown girls and I sat with them on the bus coming home.  I got mumps and spread it all over the school.  I wasn’t the most popular person with the teachers.

Sunday school also played a big part in my life.  I started going when I was two and a half years old because I had an older brother and sister already there.  There were two or three teachers and we met before Church in different corners of the Church.  My teacher was Mrs Cuthbertson, who stayed at Clegg’s Croft and dressed all in black; she seemed very old to me.  I remember the day my sister was christened; there were ten babies christened that day.  My special memory is of the Sunday School Superintendent, the blacksmith, Mr Tom McNaught.  He set us a fine example and was the greatest influence on me in the Kirk.  Much that I learned from him is still with me today.  Sunday school picnics were among the highlights of our life.  They were happy, well attended occasions and it was always sunny.  The sandwiches were made up by Miss Stewart, Mr Mullo-Weir’s housekeeper.  Horses and carts from the different farms were used and we used to decorate them with flowers and shrubs.

As today’s youngsters do, I sought to earn a little money.  Not that you would keep it to yourself, you always handed it over to your mother.  I inherited the job of delivering the newly-baked rolls as my brother was of an age to go to Kirkcudbright Academy.  I would collect the rolls at Mrs Rankin, the baker’s, at 7am and the first call was the Commercial Hotel (now the Clachan Inn), with fresh rolls for the guests’ breakfast.  Across then to the Misses Clarks’ (Esther, Jean and May), with rolls for their paying guests.  Then it was over to my mother (Mrs Johnstone) at Kirkstyle Cottage.  The money lay on top of the basket and it had to tally up with the number of rolls sold.  I then went to Miss McTavish at the Lochinvar Hotel, then on to the Manse, where you always got a drink.  Back home I then went to get two buttered and jammed rolls from my mother, to eat as I went up the street to Poldean, home of my aunt, Mrs Bryden.  Poldean was a guest house then.  Along the Throughgate I would then go to the Lodging House in Kirkland Street.  Old Mrs Devlin ran the boarding house.  I found her always in bed with her light on and her long flowing hair down her back.  She always had two rolls and would the say, “Gang in next door an’ see if they want ony”. Next door was where the ‘gentlemen of the road’ slept and they scared the living daylights out of me.  One morning I was met by my aunt laughing heartily.  “It’s no every day you get your rolls with butter and jam on them,” she joked – I had sold her mine.

Extra money could be earned in the season by selling mushrooms collected in the morning.  My brother always knew the best places to go for them.  The Lochinvar Hotel was always glad to buy them from us.

I left school when I was 15 years old to go to Glasgow to train as a nursery school teacher.
The day I was leaving my mother had me out fine and early (one of her hards), waiting at Rankin’s Bakery Shop where the bus stopped.  There I stood, my feet clad in smart new shoes from Johnnie Hutchinson’s shop, all ready to venture into the big, big world.  Mr Mullo-Weir came by and asked where I was off to.  I told him and he disappeared in haste, back to the Manse.  He returned very quickly with a lovely bible for me, suitably inscribed and signed.  I still have it today – a treasured memory which seems to me to represent all that was good and happy in the Dalry of my childhood.