The Mr H 'Brand New Blog Better Than All His Old Blogs Blog'

Doesn't mean that everything they recorded was evil.

Oh, yes I am!

The Weekend Warwick Gay Off returns with the Eddy Duchin Story starring Tyrone Power on a 7" EP featuring the fabulous pianoforte skills of Carmen Cavallaro and the Columbia Picures Orchestra performing To Love Again, Manhatten, Shine On Harvest Moon and It Must Be True

Ah, my favourite holiday destination.  We used to pass through when I was a wean, as my Dad liked to meander around in his Austin 1100, and I do recall stopping for ice cream.  Which means we probably used the Shell garage in the main street in Gullane,  It's no there anymore and, sadly, neither is the bakers, replaced by an arty farty German type thing. who wouldnae know a morning roll if it smacked them aboot the heid.  Still, Gullane's rerr, so it is.

A favourite walk of mine, this picture was taken before I was born.  Amazing, I know.  They had cameras back then.  Next year, should see me walking this way even more, seeing as how I'm just roond the corner nowadays.  Even my American cousin was dragged along this way when she made the mistake of visiting.  I suspect the swans nowadays may not be the same ones pictured here, but my knowledge of ornithology, being a Leither, is limited to pigeons and seagulls aka rats wi' wings.  Roll on Spring, so I can get my walking boots oan.

Well, I went for a stroll along Porty and Joppa yesterday, and it didnae look anything like this.  Seems they had better taste, decorum, hats and attitutes towards dog keech in Portobello circa 1928 than they do now.

Here's what it looked like when my grandparents were living there, and
here's what Easter Road looked like when I was a boy. And where I
ended up living for 20 years, on and off. In fact, the Easter Road
picture was taken from right ootside my front door. [sniff].

Mr H

(download)

Click here to download:

Leith_No_Moar.zip (665 KB)

So, the worst summer in eighteen years is at an end, winter is rushing
in, I'm still nursing Mrs H after surgery, complicated by the fucking
awful excuse of the National Health Service, and all I can hold on to
are memories of genuine, proper, happy summers. Here's a postcard of
one from the early seventies, when North Berwick was a regular day
trip for a primary school Mr H, along with his faither and mammy.

Mr H

Well, a big blaw, anyway. 70 mph winds probably not the best day to
go for a stroll along the Water of Leith at lunchtime. But then
again, common sense and I, have long been strangers.

Mr H

A regular weekend haunt of Mr & Mrs H, although I'm glad to report
that it's nearly all in colour nowadays.

Mr H