Appendix - Pastimes prior to Radio and Television
Pastimes prior to Radio and Television
What did people do in olden times, before the wonders of Radio, Television, and Cinema (not to mention computers)? Well, there was always the Music Hall, and there were things called "Smokers" where a group of men usually from the bowling club, the golf club or perhaps from the Work or other close group of individuals would congregate in some local hall, light up their tobacco pipes and work up a good old fug. Individuals from the audience would get up on the stage peer through the mirk and sing their favourite song or recite a poem or monologue either of their own composition or from a more famous author. If it was a small company, everyone was expected to take part and do his bit, but if it was a large gathering only a select few with particular expertise were called upon to entertain the assemblage. No doubt if the organisers of the smoker had also had the forethought to obtain a liquor licence for the night, as the evening wore on there would be much cheering and maybe a bit of booing as the performers were appreciated or otherwise.
At home, what did they do? They didn't even have a Gramophone to while away the time. Many homes did have an upright piano in the parlour though few people would have had the spare cash for piano lessons so most folk would have had to make do with picking out the popular songs with the right forefinger whilst vamping with the left hand. Even reading didn't take up too much time when the only books which were in the house were the Bible, The Life of Christ, and Heroes of Britain and in a particularly literate family perhaps "Tales of a Grandfather" or maybe the Waverley novels. I cant think when the public libraries became popular but I believe there were such things as "penny libraries" which were run in the back shops in concert with other retail outlets, whether these commercial libraries pre- or post-dated the public libraries I don’t know.
The women were never without knitting needles or crochet hook in their hands, when they weren't plying the darning needle on their men's socks. The men all had cobbling tools to keep the family's feet well shod, in the winter that was. In the long summers the children of the house all went bare foot. My mother used to say that each year she could hardly wait to get out of her buttoned boots in the late spring and get the air between her toes. Bare feet were the uniform of the working class children right through until the first frost.
At least some of the men such as Robert Pender would fill their spare time, sitting at the kitchen table with a sheet of paper and a stub of pencil endeavouring to emulate their more famous Compatriot of a hundred years previously. If the stories are to be believed, hardly a kitchen table in Paisley was without its poet sitting at it churning out his immortal rhymes.
Then again, I suppose there was a lot more conversation in those days; Grandda Borthwick would always have a few of his cronies round for a crack, when they weren't down at the Wallace tavern for a "refreshment". Grandda, his brother Davie and Johnnie Notman were all in the Masons, but another brother-in-law Eddie Boyce who was a Catholic was not a member. Whether he was barred because of his religion or his Church didn't allow him to join I don’t know. However, nothing daunted, Eddie started up a secret society of his own, appointed himself Grand Master and invited his cronies to join his club. I still have Grandda's entrance certificate. I have this mental picture of the four of them sitting round the kitchen table, or perhaps in the village pub, preparing the certificate of The Right Royal Wallopers, each adding his own bit of humour. (vide infra).
There were also family get-togethers where Grandparents, parents, uncles, aunties and cousins would congregate in one or other of the homes for high tea. Each household would be expected to invite the whole family at least once a year. Once everyone had had an adequate sufficiency at the tea table, or as old auntie Jessie would have said "huv' ye a' hud yer nyuchers!" (that is "have you all had enough?" Remember that in Scotland in those days "enough" was pronounced "enyuch"), the table was all cleared away, and the females shooshed the men and children through into the front room and got on with the washing-up, presumably catching up with the local gossip the while.
Once the tea things were all washed and dried and tidied away the women-folk would go through to the front room and join the rest of the family. The real entertainment of the evening would then start. Everyone had to sing or recite a poem. Most people in the family had their own song with which to regale the company, and it certainly wasn't done for someone to sing someone-else's song though joining in the chorus was encouraged.
Grandda Borthwick's song was "Auld Familiar Faces" which unti1 recently I always assumed was "Grandda's Song" i.e. that Grandda had written it and that was why he was the only one who was allowed to sing it! However in the recent past I have discovered that in a song album published at the end of the 19th century called "MacDermott's comic song album" (published by Hopwood & Crew), John J Stamford had written "Old Familiar Faces". I have not been able to lay my hands on a copy of this song book so I can’t say for certain that it is the same song, but the odds seem fairly high.
My Mum's song was "The Wells O'Wearie", and Dad always sang "The Trumpeter" after Peter Dawson the Australian Baritone. The contributions of the rest of the grown-ups are lost in the mists of time. Of course the children were not let off this entertaining the assembled company and were expected to show off their latest poem that they had learnt in school. It was lucky for me that learning poems by heart was a recognised part of school lessons because I found it very embarrassing to stand up in public and recite, but since the poem was impressed in my mind I was just about able to thole the ordeal with something approaching equanimity.
There were also party games such as pass the parcel and hunt the ring where the company sat in a circle each with both hands on a single piece of string on which my Dad's ring was threaded and which was passed surreptitiously from hand to hand round the circle. The person who was "It" stood in the middle and had to guess who was holding the ring. It was just "Hide and Seek" but rather easier to play indoors.
Another game, which was always played in Grandma Pender's in Broomlands on Ne'erday was "Pelmanism". Each person was given a sheet of paper and a pencil. Aunt Elsie would bring in a tray with twenty or more assorted small items, show it round the circle and then take it out again. We then had to write down as many things as we could remember from the tray. Of course my Dad and Uncle Allan used to compete as to which one could remember the most outrageous items, from Ben Lomond, The Queen Mary, a double-decker bus. You name it, they remembered having seen it on the tray. There were prizes for who remembered the most. Of course since it was Aunt Elsie who was organising the game everyone finished up with a prize!
I’ve just thought of another game played with a rolled up paper as a baton. The person who was “it” was blind-folded and stood in the middle of the ring. He was turned round two or three times to disorient him and then, with the baton started poking round the ring. When he struck someone he said “Hokey” to which the ‘pokee’ had to answer in a disguised voice “Pokey”. The poker then had to guess the identity of the pokee! Successful identification meant a change round of the blind-fold. I seem to recall that each member of the company always had their own ‘disguised voice’ so from gathering to gathering you could remember the deep voices and the squeaky voices. Still it was all good clean fun!
