A significant date on the calendar

This is a special date in the calendar for Scot's the world over!

It is the date when we remember the birth of Robert Burns, poet, social commentator and customs officer. For the last week on the radio at 5.40 a.m. the Rev. Johnston McKay has started the day recounting something of the life of Burns, during the prayer for the day spot on radio 4. Most interesting and encouraging!

All over the world people will be raising a glass in memory of Burns, his writings and commentary make interesting reading. The further you are from the source it seems the clearer the picture he paints becomes. I remember an occasion in 1970 sitting in our flat in Johannesburg on the 25th January and reading a few lines from one of his poems. Written in Edinburgh, the opening line of which: 'Edina Scotia's darling seat,' in my mind - I could see him sitting on the side of the Salisbury Crags in Edinburgh overlooking the City, watching all the reeking lums (smoking chimneys) spewing out their grey clouds into the atmosphere, listening to the noise and the hustle and bustle of the town as people went about their daily tasks. Smelling the sweet odours of the breweries and the other stench of the City itself.

From our flat in Johannesburg I was transported to the side of the Salisbury Crags and I too could see and smell and almost touch the City of my birth and the place of my heritage. Edinburgh has always had that kind of fascination for me - regardless where I have lived. Even today I can go to a bedroom window and look out and see part of the City even though I live 15 miles from it. I like to think that although I am not a poet Edinburgh has the same influence over me that it had over Robert Burns.

It is not just that this is a significant date on the calendar because of the birthday of Robert Burns - there is more to it than that! In 1942 my brother James was born on this day, sadly he did not survive much more than infancy! By 1944 he was gone, a victim of a measles outbreak. I only know this because I remember my father telling me the story of how he found out about his passing. Note the date 1944 - nearing the end of the 2nd World War. My father was serving with the forces in Burma, miles behind enemy lines, a private soldier, attached to the Kings Own Royal Rifles, a Lancashire Regiment, operating as part of a mortar platoon. He told me he was returning from a patrol and as he travelled through the jungle back to his base he had a strange feeling that he would be hearing bad news! His worst fears were realised, James, a son he had only seen for the shortest of periods was gone. Knowing my dad as I did he must have been devastated and how he ever survived emotionally I will never know!

Ever since the day and I discovered the date of my brothers' birth I have always kept 25th January as a special day! I never knew him, there are no photos of him and very little record of him but he is my brother - he was and is special to me.

A few years ago along with Julie, my oldest daughter we went to visit our old nursery school in the Cowgate in Edinburgh. It was closing and the staff decided to invite all former attendees to visit the school and look at old pictures and records. Can you imagine my surpirse to look at the old register and see the names of both my brothers and the dates they enrolled in the nursery and the dates they left. I was thrilled and delighted. Then as we searched through the same register I looked for and found my own name being added and a little later my sister. Subsequently two of my older brothers' children were enrolled and my own two older girls had their names added.

In my mind it is true that one generation can speak to the next and so on. James Campbell, jnr is remembered - even though he lies in a simple grave in Piershill Cemetery alongside his grandmother - he has a real place in the affection of this brother who he never knew and who never knew him. This significant date on the calendar will always be James' Birthday - my brother!

Things are different now!

I was out in the car the other day, radio playing, Classic FM, the piece of music playing was Sibelius, 'Karerlia Suite'. I said to the MD who was co-piloting at the time: 'That was Vernon's favourite'. The reply was immediate: drop him an e-mail and tell him you were thinking about him.

Vernon? My oldest and best friend. Met him in the summer of '61 he was the older apprentice in the print shop I was sent to to learn the art of being a compositor. Some would say a trade, but the way it seemed to me then and does so now, it was an art form. Taking lumps of lead and turning those lumps of lead by many different methods into words and phrases that could communicate a message, a thought, a philosophy, the paths that lead soldiers could go on were many and varied, what they could achieve for good or ill, well I leave the rest to you.

Back to Vernon! I could write a book about our exploits over the next 6 years. He was from a different back ground to myself. His father was an architect and worked for the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries for Scotland. A leading light in the British Humanist Society and an all round good guy!

How Vernon ever became involved in the printing industry I will never know.

Anyway summer '61, my first day at work. Told by my father to watch what I was doing and sent off. Vernon took me under his wing, like a brother, and over the past 46 years I have probably looked on him as such. That July morning will remain with me as long as I live. A little bit of history will help here!

The printing trade was riddled with restrictive practices, in the small factory that I was to be apprenticed in with a staff of no more than 50 people there would be at least 5 trade unions if not more. There were nearly a dozen printing trades unions in total throughout the whole of the industry. Each union controlled a particular part of the factory. Anyway on day one I fell foul of trade union legislation within minutes of starting work. I was informed that as a union card had not materialised for me I would not be able to commence my apprenticeship and as such was destined to be the message boy for the despatch department until such time as the 'card' was delivered to the father of the chapel (the shop steward)! It arrived 6 weeks later, I had almost given up hope of it ever appearing.

My new found friend came searching for me in the bowels of the warehouse. he encouraged me to follow him on a tour of the factory, that was to be my home from home, for the next six years. I followed him all over the factory being introduced to all and sundry. Then we arrived in the case room (this was the nerve centre of the whole operation - no compositors - no printing)! Vernon encouraged me to use a simple piece of equipment! I had no sooner started to experiment with this highly technical and specialist item (not) when the shop steward (father of the chapel) came from his work bench and told me to eff off until I had a union card to allow me to work in the case room. Welcome to the real world. I have had an aversion to trades unions ever since, I wonder why? My mentor did not mince his words when speaking to this 'father of the chapel', save to say it was colourful!

But enough of my tales of the case room stone and back to my e-mail, I sent it off and was delighted to receive a reply from this old pal. He says that he is the grumpy one in the corner. The strange thing is that is how I am seen by my family, in fact my grandchildren often refer to me as 'Grumpy'.

Vernon is fine and living in the south of England. I will probably return to talk of him again. We had great times, you would not believe what we did during those years of working and having fun. We were real compositors who were direct descendants of 'Bill Caxton'! Vernon in his e-mail reminded me that up until about 1975 Bill Caxton could have returned and been able to work in a case room without any bother. But within 10 years all that had been swept away. The only place you will find a case room is in a museum of printing and there are precious few of those.

Things are different now! And How!

Thanks for allowing me to serve you!

I am not the most disciplined when it comes to doing things. Regardless of what those 'things' maybe. I have never been known for having a tidy work bench, desk or even motor car. In fact I offered the local minister and his wife a run home from the city the other day, and it was only after we arrived at the car - my 'skip on wheels' that I remembered just how untidy it was. I apologised for the mess and delivered them safely home.

My only thought when I offered them a lift was, why wait on a bus, when we could all be home that much earlier by car.

I found it a privilege and pleasure to be able to serve them in a small way. I have not been able to attend the services recently, but I can honestly say it has always been a joy to listen to an able communicator at work. Clear and concise and not too long winded. Must have learned his craft in the school of 'the head can only take in what the seat can endure'.

They will soon be retiring from the Church and are looking forward to that experience with a deal of trepidation. It probably will not be easy but I am sure they will be fine.

• Ever wondered what a shepherd does when he retires and does not have the soft calling of the sheep in his ear every day, with their moans and groans?
• Continually looking for fresh pasture for his sheep not wanting them to be undernourished.

Reminds me of the story I heard at a conference 20-25 years ago by a 'real' shepherd. His sheep were continually going over the wall. He would find them miles away on another farmers land. He would bring them home and they would settle for a few days, then off they would go again. only to be found miles away! This went on for a few months until he decided he had better investigate the matter.

They always seemed to land up in the same place, so he went and had a conversation with the farmer. He asked him how he organised his farm, took notes and also samples of the feed and grazing. He sent the grass of for analysis to the local agricultural college along with samples of his own grass and feed.

The answer came back and he was amazed the two samples showed that the other farmer's grazing was far richer in nutrients than the home pasture. The college suggested ways of improvement, the shepherd did just that the result the sheep did not stray!

I think that is the essence of Psalm 23 keep it simple and keep it fresh.

Thanks! Its my pleasure!