WE'LL MEET AGAIN -AND WE DID -AT OUR FIRST SPRINGBURN REUNION.

It is 1.40pm on a sunny, autumnal day in Glasgow. Only the few scattered autumn leaves on the pavement give an indication that this once heavily populated area now boasts some trees since Killermont street of the olden days has been transformed into a rather nice area of chic hotels, modern bus station (once officially opened by The Queen) and the impressively large modern Glasgow Royal Concert hall where we are to meet our host , Williedee and the innovator of this site, Steve.and his sister.

The foyer is luxuriously carpeted with massive original paintings adorning the walls. At the entrance to the busy café area, a tall, young man and his bonny sister are standing. He is wearing a poppy in his lapel. She has pinned a pink carnation to her coat. We immediately recognise each other. He is the modest Steve, and we shake hands. It is like meeting an old friend.

We soon are joined by the tall Williedee, who true to his word, is wearing his impressive Albert name badge. Almost at once, well dressed, grey haired ladies appear and there are exclamations of such joy when they recognise each other, after at least fifty years. Age is forgotten. Suddenly these sixty- something people become young again and there are hugs and cries of “It’s as if I just saw you last week.”

Williedee effects the necessary introductions ensuring that any wanderers are carefully rounded up, and after a quick consultation at his notebook , confirms we are nearly all present and on time. Just then Fiona arrives. A vision in lilac, she is accompanied by her glamorous sister and to nobody’s surprise, Fiona produces a plastic bag in which she has brought pink carnations. “Just in case somebody didn’t have one.” She then inspects my peach carnation and insists on changing it to the proper pink one.

We are some twenty strong, including the two Springburn historians invited by Steve, and Williedee, now assured everyone is here, conducts us across the road, to La Bonne Auberge, an elegant stone built hotel on the corner of West Nile Street, which boasts a French chateau style clock tower.

Soon we are in the warmth of the comfortable conservatory which has two entrances, each framed by smart drapes. In no time the immaculately white clothed tables are pushed together to form a square horse shoe, if you see what I mean and the sound of laughter can probably be heard throughout the lounge.

There are no nostalgic tears, other than those of my own when Williedee presented me with a key ring in which he had somehow managed to fit a picture of our old Albert school badge. “I know how much this means to you,” he explained. How right he is. My affection for our old school has grown as the years have passed.

Once we were all seated and chatting away like good friends, he called the meeting to order.” I would like to thank you all for coming to our first reunion, and we’ve got a little surprise for you.” At that, he whipped a pristine white napkin off the table to reveal a special cake on which were two photos of the Springburn road we all once knew and loved. Duly invited to take pictures by Williedee, from handbags and pockets, digi cameras appeared like magic and like a galaxy of paparazzi, flashes flashed and the cake became a star.

Steve was then invited to cut the cake.”Since this site has started, you have supplied your pictures and recollections and kept it going. It must be kept going so everyone knows the past and keeps it alive. Thank you. And may I also say well done to Willie.” At that there was a spontaneous burst of applause, the cake was cut and a the pretty waitresses appeared right on cue with the delicious hot coffee and tea.In typical La Bonne Auberge style, generous squares of the award winning chef’s home made tablet sat just waiting to be devoured.

There were twenty of us in that conservatory. It might have been a classroom at Albert or Colston. We were all young again. “You haven’t changed a bit, “ the Elmvale girls told each other. Although there was a cocktail bar in the adjacent room, everyone was intoxicated sufficiently by the occasion and coffee and teacups were replenished when required as each little group recalled the Springburn of old and special mention was made of those hot lemonades at the Balgray café.

There may have seemed some unoccupied tables but we all knew Wellfield and Siccar and Wilma and the other expats were sitting there in spirit, enjoying our reminiscing. Then there was another nice surprise. At 3.45pm Williedee’s mobile phone rang. If Steve is the father of this site then our Bunty has to be the mother. How thoughtful this lady is. She telephoned to wish everyone well and must have heard the loud cheer we gave when Williedee announced who it was on the phone, “Wilma from Australia had wanted to telephone, too but the time difference and calling my mobile number must have proved impossible, “ explained Willie. Nice thought, though.

Interestingly, the gentlemen present were formally attired in smart dark suits with collars and ties. The ladies opted for a mix of trouser suits or cosy cardis and trousers. Wellfield was right Beautifully coiffured silver hair and the scents of expensive perfumes were the order of the day, save for those of us who had opted to indulge in the use of the bottles of hair dye in our bathrooms. Well, tempus does fugit. (Latin teachers, be impressed!).

Amongst the old black and white photos one was particularly emotive. It showed two young boys and their sister. The smartly dressed seventy-something owner explained:” That’s me and my brother, in our Parish outfits and our sister, clearly in a coat which had been handed down,” There they were, in their large tackety boots, too short trousers and “horse hair” sweaters. But hey, those boots had been polished so you could see your face in them and the little girl’s too short coat had been washed and ironed to perfection.

Amazingly, two hours had now passed. It was time for people to catch buses and trains and pick up their cars. It had been an enchanted day of recalling happy times. Although some of us had never even met, we felt as though we had known each other forever.

It was time to pay the bill,. Imagine our surprise to find Williedee, Steve and Balgray Bob had discreetly vanished and taken care of said bill, leaving a generous tip for our waitresses. Now that is what you call Springburn hospitality. Despite vigorous protests by the ladies present, they refused to accept any donation towards the bill.

As each person departed, smiling and happy into the late afternoon sunshine, there was just time for one more photo of Fiona, Williedee and Fiona’s sister to be taken. One of the remaining ladies enquired how I was getting home. “By bus,” I replied. “Well, do you not want to go to the loo before you go? “ she asked. Last time someone said that, it was my late Mother, who in the tradition of our Springburn upbringing, always asked visitors this when they were about to depart. Regardless of age or sex. My afternoon could not have ended on a happier note.

Special thanks to Williedee, our host, Margaret and the staff at La Bonne Auberge, West Nile Street, Glasgow, and Steve Dewar for inventing the Reminiscence of Springburn site in the first place.

Record Of Members in attendance

The Ladies

Beryl Beattie, Betty Bell, Bainbox, Chrichton, Dolina, Elvi Ran, Fionam, Irenexw8, Jean McCrae, Jane Harvey, Mags1105, Mary Junnor, Still Game, Wee Sis.

The Gents

Duncan Abernethy, Balgray Bob, Stevedr, Willie Dee, And Our Guests, Willie Dewar And Billy Gilmartin


And not forgetting a phone call from our Administrator " BUNTY" which raised a great cheer from everyone .