Napoleonic, WSS & ECW wargaming, with a load of old Hooptedoodle on this & that


Monday, 31 March 2025

Hooptedoodle #476 - Macdonald Road Library (Leith Walk, Edinburgh)

 I read recently that the public library in Macdonald Road was 120 years old last year - I confess that I was rather surprised to learn that it is still open; Leith is well out of my usual stomping ground these days, and public libraries are not doing too well, I fear, since Google has made it unfashionable to actually know anything.

Why mention it, then?

Well, back in the early 1970s I had a fleeting acquaintance with the old place - bear with me, and I shall attempt to explain in a pleasantly businesslike manner...

 
Appropriate monochrome photo of the library in 1930 - note the tram cars in Leith Walk. For some reason, my memories of Edinburgh in the early 1970s seem to be monochrome as well - maybe it was that sort of place
 
 
I think that military and wargaming books were indexed under code U - not that I wasted my study time with such matters, of course

Back in those days I was working as an actuarial trainee with a big (old) insurance company in Edinburgh, and part of the deal was that I got two half-day study periods a week during the winter (90 minutes each, in fact), which I had to take in the designated study room, in the attic above Accounts, which was filthy and unheated, and my recollection is that most of the students chain-smoked. Grim.

One winter my department moved. This sort of thing didn't happen often at the time, but the company's group pensions business was expanding quickly, and some of the pensions departments were relocated to a new building, in Leith, a good distance from the main offices in George Street. If the mention of a new building sounds promising, it must be borne in mind that the building in question had been built as an investment, but the proposed new occupant (Scottish Gas, I think) disliked it so much that they ducked the contract, so my employer cut their losses by using it themselves; it was probably good enough for us peasants in Pensions, anyway.

I now had an additional snag in that my twice a week study periods would be on the other end of a 30-minute journey each way. I made the mistake of asking the Personnel people if some other arrangement might be possible, and contempt was served up from a great height. If I chose not to use the facilities which were so generously offered, then that was my problem, etc etc.

As it happened, my boss was a nice old guy, and I agreed with him informally that I could absent myself on Tuesday mornings, and spend 3 hours in Macdonald Road library, which was only a few minutes away.

This worked well. The library was large, and very quiet indeed, and my 3 hour visits were much better for serious studying than the filth-hole up in George Street. I was surprised how deserted the place was - there were 3, sometimes 4, pensioners who came in to keep warm in the cold weather, otherwise there was very little happening. Maybe it was crowded in the evenings.

One of the pensioners was always very busy, scribbling away - the others seemed to sleep most of the time.

Eventually I struck up a nodding-terms relationship with the librarian in charge - Miss Gilhooley, who was a rather timid-looking young lady - pale, with red hair - and sometimes she would offer to make an extra cup of tea for me. This was kindness of a sort that actuarial trainees were not used to.

It turned out that Miss Gilhooley lived somewhere on the South Side, as did I, and on one occasion she sat next to me on the morning bus into the city. I learned a little of daily goings-on at Macdonald Road. It seems that the pensioner who did all the writing was a Mr Duguid [I have no idea how or why I remember this stuff], and what he liked to do was to bring in a ballpoint pen, and fill in all the letters o, e, a, b, d, p, q (etc) in the library's public copy of the Scotsman newspaper - he also liked to draw spectacles on the photographs of people in the news. I am pleased to add that as far as I know he didn't do anything worse than this, but what he did was relentless - he worked at it for most of the day. Miss Gilhooley used a cunning plan, and would lay out an old newspaper for Mr Duguid's use, but this didn't work, since one of his companions could read (Mr Duguid could not), and tipped hm off that it was not today's edition. Mr Duguid refused (quite correctly) to waste his effort destroying an out-of-date newspaper, so a Plan B came into use. Miss Gilhooley did a very brave, unofficial thing, and ordered a special second copy of the Scotsman for Mr Duguid. This seemed to be working, though the auditors would no doubt find out eventually.

Miss Gilhooley's worst experience had been a morning when another elderly chap came in, but he was wearing a Rangers FC scarf. This caused an actual punch-up with the regulars - Macdonald Road is right in Hibernians territory - and Miss Gilhooley had not witnessed hooliganism of this sort before or since. The only casualty was the maintenance man, who was struck with a fire extinguisher - or claimed he had been.

As I recall, my visits to the library only lasted for one winter. I can't remember why, but I know that you didn't get study time if you had to resit an exam failure, so maybe there is a clue in there somewhere.

Lovely city, Edinburgh, but I have a strong memory of it being a cold, grey, unfriendly place for a young man far from home! And there is some lingering whiff of the Council's disinfectant...

10 comments:

  1. Tony, you always have the most interesting stories to tell. Sitting for actuarial exams, ah, I remember those exams not so fondly!

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    1. Dreadful exams - brutal. I guess they were designed to select candidates who had no social commitments to distract them. All boys in those days - the reputation was of individuals who feared that accountancy might be too exciting.

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    2. Brutal and diabolical. Each question was well-tested by large groups. At least one of the most frequently scored incorrect answers was added into the list of possible responses in the multiple choices. A slight slip up in computation and the exam-taker is rewarded by finding the incorrect answer as one of the choices. With tight time constraints, finding a matching answer is often reason enough to move on.

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    3. Indeed so. The things which stick in my mind are the sneakier questions which appeared in the old Faculty Part IVa paper [Life Office Practice - or something...]. In the 70s there was a huge scramble going on in the UK to dress up things which were not really life assurance products at all (such as unitised investment funds) as some form of insurance policy, so they could benefit from the tax advantages. The hope was then that these things would sell like hot cakes until HM tax office spotted them and closed the loophole, by which time there would be newer and more cunning trickery coming onto the market. There were specialist companies set up to do this kind of tap dancing, and the big, more traditional firms with big legacy systems and big legacy customer bases struggled to compete. For the exams, the implication was that it became a commonplace for at least one question to be set in IVa about some advanced policy type which had not been launched yet - hot from the laboratories, you might say. The intention was to see how examinees struggled with the logic of something which did not yet exist, and whether they demonstrated "commercial reasoning" of sufficient strength.

      This might seem a bit harsh, but we must also remember that some of the brightest and shiniest of the candidates were quite likely to be members of these same hot-shot product-development workshops, and therefore might just possibly be working with these things every day. Now that really was brutal, I believe, for everyone else.

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  2. I received a comment from Martin Rapier - for which thanks - which Blogger refuses to allow me to publish, so I shall reproduce it here - the next voice you hear will be Martin's:

    "I always slightly regretted not studying to be an actuary, however my later career in IT satisfied my requirements for order and dullness. I've only visited Leith once, but I thought it rather attractive, although it was a sunny day. Funnily enough my memories of Manchester in the 1960s are largely monochrome too."

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    1. Martin - you must never regret not getting involved. I did complete the fellowship qualification, but I had already moved into computing (in the same organisation), which seemed much more like a proper job. The only advantages (in my then situation) of being a Fellow were (1) it was necessary for promotion to senior posts, and (2) other Fellows in the organisation would not have taken me seriously otherwise.

      With hindsight, I can see that a conscious effort was made to preserve a tradition of odd, druidic academia; senior management appointments in the place were like professorial chairs, like some weird, very wealthy university; some of the top brass would have had problems managing their way out of a paper bag. It occurs to me that Mr Duguid's newspaper scribblings are not wildly irrelevant here - such a piece of work within our organisation would have been judged by its accuracy and completeness - no-one might have noticed that it was completely useless. Mind you, the pension funds kept on growing, and the company got richer and richer...

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  3. Another lovely amusing history of the young MSFoy. I have always had a soft spot for libraries and would often stop off at the main town centre one on my journey home from school.
    Then every other weekend I would attend the much smaller local sub library and swop over the four permissible books.
    For some reason they both smelt of floor polish even though they were carpeted in that nylon/sandpaper mix so loved in the 70's and 80's.

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    1. I used to read in the Scottish National Library for a while, which was great and felt really studious. I also liked the reading rooms at the University Staff Club in Chambers St (in Edinburgh). These places were a real boon when I was striving to finish off my professional exams and there were crying babies at home! The Staff Club also had a decent restaurant - the place was later wrecked by a major gas explosion, so that put a stop to all that.

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  4. I think you have described every library I have ever visited 😁
    When I was at school I got caught skiving … In Edinburgh Central Library… Reading about the Napoleonic Wars…
    My form teacher said she didn’t know what to do with me…
    Skiving so I could learn something… Blew her mind 🤣🤣🤣

    All the best. Aly

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    1. Ah yes - George IV Bridge (or, as my older kids called it when they were small, "George, the Forth Bridge", which made it essential to shout out "Hello George" whenever we saw the actual Forth Bridge - oh, what fun we had). I visited the library in North Berwick and was surprised to find that it is used for pre-school kids' storytelling sessions, and Councillors' clinics, and "Surfing for Seniors" classes, none of which is especially quiet.

      George IV Bridge library reminds me that I played a musical gig of a sort there [SSSSHH!!] some years ago, when they opened a new jazz section, and I was drafted into an ad hoc trio to play music for a sandwiches-and-Proseco reception. The piano player and the drummer were both very old and very deaf - nightmare all round... These traumas stay with you, you know.

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