Rutherglen Academy & Beyond – a guest post by Jean Wilson (formerly Wishart)

My grandmother loved Gregory Peck, simply adored him.  As a special treat she took me as a small child to see him in ‘The Snows of Kilimanjaro”.  I confess that I didn’t really understand the story and any attempt to get an explanation from Grandma resulted in a loud “Shush”.  But ever since, the very name “Kilimanjaro” has held a certain romance; after all it had been my first grown up film.

So I was really excited when the email from Sheila arrived announcing their Three Generation Expedition.  And I was delighted when Sheila asked me if I would contribute an occasional ‘Guest Blog”; I could write anything as long as it had some connection with the 3G Climb.  Now, Sheila and I have had a very episodic friendship lasting over fifty years – we were at school together. I was in the same class as Stew, her husband to be and Leslie, her older sister.  We were at University together (completely different subjects) when we shared a flat for some of the time.  That sounds grander than it was.  In these days students at Glasgow University had a tough time; sharing a bed-sit was the norm.  That is when I got to know Sheila really well.  Then marriages and careers came along causing us to drift apart – she to Canterbury and me to Edinburgh.  It is only thanks to retirement, e-mail and Facebook that the friendship has been renewed.

Stewart (front left), Leslie (back right) at Rutherglen Academy
Stewart (front left), Leslie (back right) at Rutherglen Academy
Jean wins the Dux Prize at Rutherglen Academy (she and Leslie appear to have cleaned up!)
Jean wins the Dux Prize at Rutherglen Academy (she and Leslie appear to have cleaned up!)

Thinking of Sheila’s character and her planned trip, all I can say is that the group with which she will be travelling is extremely lucky.  Sheila at eighteen was confident, practical and even a little determined.  We both found ourselves at the sharp end of our respective stepmothers’ tongues.  Sheila called time first and came along to my house to drag me off in search of our escape.  This we found in the shape of a double bedsit in a generously sized basement room of what must once have been a rather gracious residence in the west end of Glasgow.  It was not gracious in any way then apart from a rather grand dining table in the bay window, ideally positioned to capture what little light came into the room.  We agreed to take it – it cost us £2 each per week.

Needless to say our announcements were not taken well by either family and our transition was somewhat precipitous by necessity.  Various friends with cars were enlisted to help with the “flit” – the vernacular for removal.  I had packed all my textbooks and notes plus clothes and some bedding. (Thinking back made me realise just how lightly students travelled in the days before computers and portable TVs and coffee makers and microwaves).  Sheila had been much more practical, but only up to a point.  She had packed a set of camping pots, plates and cutlery; she had not brought any food.  Both of us came from households where food arrived in cupboards (via a delivery boy on a huge carrier bicycle) without intervention from us.  Fortunately Sheila’s resourcefulness came into play.  She had sussed out the nearest grocery and we set off.  This was the first self-service grocer’s shop I had been in and I was somewhat daunted.  Sheila somehow knew what to do and what to buy – “It has to be cheap and nutritious”.

We cooked our first meal and sat down round the one bar electric fire to enjoy it.  We eventually admitted that it wasn’t very good and that we were faced with a major problem about eating when our budget was so limited.  I bought a cookery book (I still have it) and we started to learn to cook, an exercise that has stood both of us in good stead.  And this is one reason I said that the people in Sheila’s group were lucky.  They can be assured that if the food porters fail, Sheila will show the same resourcefulness and rustle up a meal.

So what was our first meal of freedom?  It was a tin of Irish Stew with instant potato. Sheila, I thought I should send you a tin to take with you – but then decided a photograph would be enough to sustain you.

Princes Irish Stew
Princes Irish Stew