Chronicles Part V - 1972 - 1974

From http://renshawschronicles.blogspot.com/

Erratum in previous blog - apparently I got the wedding presents all mixed up - we bought the red dining room table ourselves, not Mum and Dad.


It was a New Year in a new house, marriage and job - and with a baby on the way too. Jo was working in Muirhead and I was trekking back and forward to Black & White in Stepps each day - some days, I would manage to get a lift from one of my neighbours - usually one of my staff who had moved up from London, who, unlike me, could afford to buy and run a car. Other days, I would walk up the hill from our estate and wait for the bus. Technically, I could have walked to work - it was probably only a couple of miles - through Crow Wood Golf Club - but the occasion never really presented itself. It sounded like a nice thing to do, but I never did it - perhaps it was the weather?

It wouldn't be too long before we had to invest in a car of sorts - but more of that later.


Domestically, we were learning how to cope with our coal fire. It was a new experience for Jo - she had been used to maintenance-free central heating supplied by hot water pumped from the nearby Paisley Baths. It was a struggle at first, but she got there in the end.


Jo was starting to sprout and soon she would have to hand her notice in at the school:

Taken at the front/side of our house on the corner of Barcaldine Avenue

Lucy was born in Bellshill Maternity Hospital in May. I was there for the birth, but one of the midwives apparently noticed me looking a little pale after the event and quickly ushered me out of the room. I think I was overcome with emotion.


This one was taken at the back of our house not long after Lucy was born:

There was soon a steady stream of visitors - not least because we didn't have wheels, so they had to come to us. Mary and Brian popped over a few times - with little Julie of course:

I forget where these chairs came from - I think they must have been loaned/gifted.




This one was taken a little while later but, to me, epitomises how our little chubby cheeks used to look:

Don't you love her little gingham outfit?




As mentioned above, we eventually did buy a car - of sorts. We had no capital left and, with Jo not working any more, income was tight as well and there weren't many finance deals around for the average punter in those days. I did spot a place that offered no deposit deals and went round there to take a look. I didn't - and still don't - know much about cars, and Barry was still too young then to help much - not that I asked him.


Frankly, I didn't have a clue what I was doing, but I spotted a little red Fiat 850 - basically not much more than a sewing machine on wheels - and enquired about it. It was tucked away in a back corner of the garage (it definitely wasn't a showroom) and I probably should have realised these were the scrap cars. It cost £200. It would have looked a little like this (only red and not as pristine):

There was a bit of a delay with the garage getting the car ready - I should have smelled a rat, but we needed wheels and this was the only short term solution I could come up with. When we did get the car, we liked it - for a while - and then, not too much later, the engine blew and had to be replaced, and this was going to cost another £200 to get it fixed. We didn't have the money, but we thought perhaps Jo's Dad might take pity and lend it to us - and he did.


As I said, we were on a (very) tight budget and we used to shop for the cheapest foodstuffs. We would go to the Grandfare supermarket in Cambridge St in central Glasgow, usually on a Friday night, to do our main shop of the week. A regular purchase - and our treat of the week - was to buy a Vesta packet curry - we thought they were delicious at the time and really used to look forward to them. How times - and tastes - change. Even Pot Noodles seem upmarket by comparison.


Things were going well at work, however, and the little contretemps concerning me not telling them about Dad working there, had long since been forgotten. It was never a problem and the passing of time proved that. I had obviously made an impression with the Directors - particularly the Finance Director, Peter Hosp, and I wasn't there much more than a year before they approached me to offer me a new position in their Head Office down south as London Accountant.


Naturally, I was flattered and quite fancied the challenge and the prospect of a move out of Lanarkshire to, hopefully, something better. Echoes of Dad a generation before, perhaps? Jo wasn't so sure - she'd lived all her life in Paisley and now she had a new baby to look after and Lucy's grandparents wouldn't get the chance to see as much of her early years if we moved away.


Before we were married, Jo and I had discussed the possibility of going to work in Bermuda. This was a popular thing for new qualified C.A.'s to do - in fact, the aforementioned Jim Weir (brother of Fraser, Martin's secretary, Margaret) was working there and frequently extolled the virtues of the life-style - and the tax-free status - to his sister. We weren't sure about it, but, when Lucy was on the way, that confirmed our decision to stay.


Whether subliminally the fact that we had "chickened out" with the Bermuda move had anything to do with the decision we eventually took to go to London, we'll never know, but I do know that, come April, 1974 we were on our way.


Before that, however, I made a very brief comeback at football, turning out for the Black & White team:

That's me in the back row, fourth from the left. The man mountain beside me makes me look small, but I was actually the second tallest in the team!


So that was our brief post-marriage, pre-London period. Part VI of the Chronicles will deal with our time down south.