Guth & Tuairim, Eanáir/Feabhra 1984

A former district nurse remembers war-time Gallowgate MARGAREI' McCULI.AGH FOLEY from the Rosses was a District Nurse in the East End of Glasgow from 1938 - 1941 - a time when the face of the area differed radically from the one we live with today. Now living in Cumbernauld, Mrs. Foley looks back on her day to day experiences and gives young readers a glimpse of the time when parts of the Gallowgate had 11 a very rural atmosphere" ••• and for those who remember the area at that time, a trip down memory lane. "During the day, ll'\Y calls included a daily 9 a.m. visit on an elderly couple in Cubic Street (off the Gallowgate). The old lady (who suffered from diabetes) required an injection of insulin before her breakfast. While I attended to the patient her husband gave me a running commentary on the latest war news - always adding consolingly:- "They' 11 never come this length. Nurse. In the First World War they only got as far as Edinburgh once and they only dropped one bomb. It fell in Princess Street gairdins and it did nae hairm, 11 Before 1945 came, I often thought how wrong he was especially when a few streets away from him, a colleague of mine was called out one night in a blitz and before dawn, assisted Dr, McLarnan Ord and the late Dr, Millar in freeing a trapped victim from a demolished building by amputating his hand, 8 My Cubie Street patient's husband had been in the First World Ward and often told me of kilted Scottish regiments being referred to by Europeans as 11 The le.dies From Hell". He had many interesting stories to tell of an older Glasgow. He remembered thatched cottages at Parkhead - a relic of the days when it was a country village separated from Glasgow, He told me that Bellgrove used to be the city's eastern boundary and that Dennistoun was once a residential quarter for professional people only, COUNI'RY ATMOSPHERE One of ll'\Y patients lived in a side street, off the north side of the Gallowgate. The patient's kitchen window overlooked a yard, with a very rural atmosphere. I remembered seeing in it stables, a pony, geese, dogs and poultry, It was a veritable farmyard and the near-by owner's house had a farmhouse appearance. As I write the name Doig keeps coming to Jl'\Y mind. I cannot remember whether Doig was · the name of the street, the name of this yard-owner or the name of ll'\Y patient. At the top of Slatefield Street stood a one-time mansion-house in its own grounds, Previous to the war this building was an Approved School for junior boys. In the first week of September 1939 the boys were evacuated to a Stirling Youth Hostel thence to Lochgoilhead, later to Kirkconnell and lastly and permanently to Gartmore House, Aberfoyle. In the school's early days in the Gallowgate, the medical officer in attendance was the late Dr, J 0 seph Scanlon of Dennistoun.* I had an interesting patient near Springfield Road, who had a nickname for all callers. I never managed to find out what ll'\Y own was, but she adorned her "green lady" (or Health Visitor) with "Panshine, 11 Incidentally the saddest experience of ll'\Y district nursing occured in Springfield Road, I was walking along it one day at noon, in bright May-day sunshine, As I hurried towards Parkhead to catch a tram for Dennistoun where I was due for lunch, I heard the violent screeching of brakes behind me, When I loo~ed around a big red van was slowing down at the kerb beside me and I could see a small body being dragged underneath the · back wheels. I ran back. Some men managed to raise the vehicle sufficiently to free the three-year-old boy victim, I picked him up, ran into a shop with bim and laid him on the floor, to discover his leg was completely severed at the knee, except for !ll'I inch-wide piece of skin, SHAKING EXPERIENCE I can still recall the feeling as I dealt with that narrow shred of skin, applied a sterile dressing and bandage to the stump. Fortunately a white-coated policeman spotted a local doctor in a passing car. In a matter of minutes the patient, policeman, doctor and Jl'\YSelf were at the Royal Infirmary, The little boy was conscious throughout but kept calling: "MaIDJl'\Y, Daddy. 11 I felt very shaken for the rest of the day but continued with ll'\Y visits - to try to forget ll'\Y mornings's experience, In the days that followed I kept phoning for news of the little boy but learned (a~er a week) that he had died when several complications including scarlet fever had set in, He is buried in Riddrie cemetery, I called on his parents. As I le~ them they remarked that they were surprised to see me in blue as they had been told by "eye-witnesses" that a green lady happened to be at the scene of the accident, lfDr. Scanlon was the son of a Donegal policeman and father of the late Archbishop Scanlon of Glasgow. District Nurse Margaret war time uniform of McCullagh Foley in the Dennistoun's District Nurses. Why didn't Mary Bheag go to shcool on Wednesday? Was she afraid she'd get the bumps?tt Is Sarah (N 0 sie N,) really leaving us? The school will be very quiet ~ithout hertt Good luck in Bundoran Saraht How's life without your Angeis, Charlie? l What happens to Amanda & Fionta 1 s books at , lunchtime? Who's the culprit? I What Port lad is a wee darlin 1 ••• F. R.?? Is Paddy D. really engaged? _ Paul B, and his brain are too much for M. G, 11 Pratt 11 ice what you Preach Hi there all. Socrates here again. Who is Socrates I hear you cry? Well never mind, a small word of warning for all you dedicated Maurice Pratt fans. Close your eyes, cover your ears shake your head and leave the room, This time the unfortunate Maurice comes under the wrath of the scandal sheet for nothing less than attempting to make the poor manor woman of the street buy at Quinnsworth with a small chance of escaping to the sun. Why does he not get on a plance and go on a continental holiday and leave us pure innocents alone to suffer in ignorance that we may not have nightmares of dear Maurice shoving screaming and struggling Irish punters on to a plane to live two weeks in foreign lands frying eggs on rocks and finding out that they have no Harp to wash the eggs down with, Speaking of foreign, I once heard a story about a foreign gentleman who was serving in the British arJl'\Y. He was stationed in Northern Ireland on the border checking all the people going in and out of the province. This coloured soldier was on duty one day and a youth was passing into the North, the soldier started to question the youth and got around to asking •where the youth was from, to which the youth replied that he was from Bray. The soldier, with remarkable astuteness said 11 You are a long way from home". The youth took a long look at the soldier and caustically remarked "You aren't exactly sitting under a banana tree yourself, Please note this is not a recommended way of speedily passing the border. Le Socrates.