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!
Friday, 25 January 2008
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
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!
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!
Friday, 11 January 2008
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.
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!
Friday, 28 December 2007
Why 'The Abbey Sanctuary'?
Well it goes like this!
The Abbey Sanctuary does exist as can be seen from the picture, it is located immediately across the street from the site of the Scottish Parliament Building in Edinburgh.
There are three brass plates on the road outside this building, these are in the shape of the letter 'S' to signify sanctuary! Up until the 19th century it was possible for some one to claim sanctuary in the building in the picture when they were being pursued by their creditors.
The real reason for the picture is that the building was part of my playground as a child. The tenement building which I lived in was demolished in the 1970's to be replaced by an office complex for Scottish and Newcastle Breweries HQ. This was subsequently sold to the Government when they needed land for a Parliament building and that is what stands on the site of the old tenement at the foot of the Canongate.
We felt privileged to have the Royal Family as near neighbours. I wonder if they ever knew that there were people living in flats not more than 100 yards from there royal apartments who had to share a toilet between 3, 4, or even more families. No bathrooms, and no hot water other than that could be heated on the fire, in the kitchen/living/dining room.
The building is a landmark at the foot of the Canongate but also a continuing landmark in my memory. when I see it I can return to it and enjoy the experiences of childhood some not so enjoyable but nevertheless return to that sense of 'then' and all that went with it.
theabbeysanctuary.blogspot.com hopefully will have the same effect on the reader as the building has on me. A desire to return now and again to have a look and remember!
The Abbey Sanctuary does exist as can be seen from the picture, it is located immediately across the street from the site of the Scottish Parliament Building in Edinburgh.
There are three brass plates on the road outside this building, these are in the shape of the letter 'S' to signify sanctuary! Up until the 19th century it was possible for some one to claim sanctuary in the building in the picture when they were being pursued by their creditors.
The real reason for the picture is that the building was part of my playground as a child. The tenement building which I lived in was demolished in the 1970's to be replaced by an office complex for Scottish and Newcastle Breweries HQ. This was subsequently sold to the Government when they needed land for a Parliament building and that is what stands on the site of the old tenement at the foot of the Canongate.
We felt privileged to have the Royal Family as near neighbours. I wonder if they ever knew that there were people living in flats not more than 100 yards from there royal apartments who had to share a toilet between 3, 4, or even more families. No bathrooms, and no hot water other than that could be heated on the fire, in the kitchen/living/dining room.
The building is a landmark at the foot of the Canongate but also a continuing landmark in my memory. when I see it I can return to it and enjoy the experiences of childhood some not so enjoyable but nevertheless return to that sense of 'then' and all that went with it.
theabbeysanctuary.blogspot.com hopefully will have the same effect on the reader as the building has on me. A desire to return now and again to have a look and remember!
Back to work - with a vengance!
Yesterday morning returned to work. It did not take long for reality to strike back. Christmas was great. Enjoyed all the fun of the festivities. Run the 100 metres at the mario/sonic olympics. Boxed with my grand children and my daughter. Played golf with Tiger Woods at Pebble Beach and never left the house except in the company of a couple of people in white coats. No the truth is Nintendo Wii fever has gripped the Campbell household. There was hardly a game we did not play, baseball and tennis included. What a great time we had.
Down to earth - work - that four letter word - which we all suffer from at some time in our life.
It was one of the busiest days I have had for a while. I must admit it was rather rewarding at the end of the day - a long one at that - to realise just what can be achieved given the opportunity to complete a job without being interuppted.
I only hope that this pattern does not wear off in the new year.
Back to work! A man's got to do - what a man's got to do!
Down to earth - work - that four letter word - which we all suffer from at some time in our life.
It was one of the busiest days I have had for a while. I must admit it was rather rewarding at the end of the day - a long one at that - to realise just what can be achieved given the opportunity to complete a job without being interuppted.
I only hope that this pattern does not wear off in the new year.
Back to work! A man's got to do - what a man's got to do!
Monday, 24 December 2007
So this is Christmas
For the first time in I don't know how long I am not working. Normally my whole thinking process is totally caught up in what I am going to do! Not this year! What a change!
I am sure it will not take me long to upset someone, but that will just be par for the course! Christmas is a time for giving and maybe this year I will be able to give back a little of the time I have taken from my family over the past 40 years or so. Its a long time and I will never be able to repay them for all the time I have spent away from them. I have already done more this Christmas - this evening I sang a Christmas song with my grand-daughter and then with the bulk of the family went to an open air Christmas Carol event. It was just great.
Christmas is a time for giving -many years ago I stopped off one Christmas morning at St Helen's Children's Home in Edinburgh to drop off some presents. while waiting in the reception area I overheard a young girl say to her mother, 'Mummy mummy, is that my daddy?' The child was asking a question I had never heard before. Certainly one I had never needed to ask. I knew my Dad, he was a great guy. A wonderful Dad and friend, he would have and did give me everything I ever needed, laced with great big lumps of love. (He would not have called it that, but that's what it was). He gave me all of that and more and not just at Christmas time.
I think of my Dad often. his kindness, his patience, his warmth, all that and more signify what Christmas is all about. At Christmas I often think about my Dad.
I am really looking forward to the next couple of days. No work, just doing the things that Grandfathers do at Christmas. Open presents and play games. Annoy my children and try and impress my grandchildren, that will be hard, these are very modern 21st century children - all clued up.
I don't know what presents I will receive tomorrow, but I know i shall be thankful for each one, because i will be able to relax without worrying about what I am going to be doing in a few hours time at work! Not this year, and maybe if I enjoy it I will endeavour to make a habit of not working at Christmas in the future. But there again, we are only given today - not tomorrow so I will just enjoy today and hope for tomorrow.
Happy Christmas to all my friends and family.
I am sure it will not take me long to upset someone, but that will just be par for the course! Christmas is a time for giving and maybe this year I will be able to give back a little of the time I have taken from my family over the past 40 years or so. Its a long time and I will never be able to repay them for all the time I have spent away from them. I have already done more this Christmas - this evening I sang a Christmas song with my grand-daughter and then with the bulk of the family went to an open air Christmas Carol event. It was just great.
Christmas is a time for giving -many years ago I stopped off one Christmas morning at St Helen's Children's Home in Edinburgh to drop off some presents. while waiting in the reception area I overheard a young girl say to her mother, 'Mummy mummy, is that my daddy?' The child was asking a question I had never heard before. Certainly one I had never needed to ask. I knew my Dad, he was a great guy. A wonderful Dad and friend, he would have and did give me everything I ever needed, laced with great big lumps of love. (He would not have called it that, but that's what it was). He gave me all of that and more and not just at Christmas time.
I think of my Dad often. his kindness, his patience, his warmth, all that and more signify what Christmas is all about. At Christmas I often think about my Dad.
I am really looking forward to the next couple of days. No work, just doing the things that Grandfathers do at Christmas. Open presents and play games. Annoy my children and try and impress my grandchildren, that will be hard, these are very modern 21st century children - all clued up.
I don't know what presents I will receive tomorrow, but I know i shall be thankful for each one, because i will be able to relax without worrying about what I am going to be doing in a few hours time at work! Not this year, and maybe if I enjoy it I will endeavour to make a habit of not working at Christmas in the future. But there again, we are only given today - not tomorrow so I will just enjoy today and hope for tomorrow.
Happy Christmas to all my friends and family.
Sunday, 23 December 2007
No more 'Back o' Sunday'
Alex Cowe – Fisherman - Christian Soldier
I was first introduced to Alex and Christine Cowe in the early months of 1980, on a visit to Peterhead to preach for the vacancy that existed for the post of Pastor of the Assemblies of God Church in Chapel Street.
During that weekend my wife and I were farmed out to various members of the congregation so they could get a taste of what we were really like. A kind of beauty parade! What they saw was what they got. A couple with three kids, one just a babe in arms, who came with a desire to serve people. Alex and Christine welcomed us warmly into their home. Since that day to this I can still remember being treated like royalty with such tender care and respect. I still feel that warmth even now nearly 27 years later.
I never asked them what they thought about us, this strange family from Edinburgh translated to Peterhead, I did not need to. I knew from day one that they cared for us that was all that mattered. At the end of the weekend I was asked if I would like to go down to watch the fishing vessels set out ‘back o’ Sunday’. This was to become one of my favourite pastimes during my stay in Peterhead. Alex Cowe took me on board the Shemara, the vessel of which he was first mate, she was a pair trawler, which had just been lengthened along with her sister vessel the Golden Dawn, skippered by Alex’s brother, Andrew(?).
Alex was so proud of these vessels, lengthened to 106ft, with sea water refrigeration in the holds, to enable them to fish for herring and mackerel, as well as white fish. So much so that on this evening he just had to show me over these vessels. I could not deny myself such an outing, I had never been on a deep sea fishing vessel before and this would be my introduction! I was like a young child! Of I went with the words of my wife ringing in my ears, she did not have to say anything, the look was enough: ‘make sure you do not get any oil on that new suit you are wearing.’ Alex gave me the tour of his Shemara, wheelhouse, galley, saloon, sleeping quarters, fish deck, the works. I was doing well until I came past a brand new piece of deck equipment on my way off the vessel and yes, you guessed – a great ‘dollop’ of oil brushed onto my new suit. Alex looked at me and said absolutely nothing, but shrugged his shoulders and gave me a look as if to say: ‘you’re on your own’.
During my time as Pastor of the Assembly Alex treated me as not just a friend but allowed me to be his ‘Pastor’, he never referred to me as anything else. Even after I left the Assembly in 1982 he always spoke to me using the term ‘Pastor’ before correcting himself! He was that kind of fellow! In a strange way I was deeply saddened when I heard of his promotion to glory. Unfortunately I could not be present at his funeral as I was overseas at the time.
In life it is often the case that some people you come into contact with make little or no impression. That cannot be said about Alex Cowe. When he dealt with me, he was, in the words of the AV a ‘familiar friend’. Over the years since we left Peterhead, we kept in touch and occasionally, never enough really, we met up, he visited us here at least once and we met at various times when I returned north. In my life I only ever felt a distinct call to one place of ministry, Peterhead, it was to people like Alex and Christine Cowe I found it my privilege to serve.
You will note from this, that Alex Cowe was a special, a brother in Christ. He may never have gained much from me but I certainly was enriched by his friendship from day one. My only regret is that I was unable to be with him or at his funeral to join with others to say farewell. Or to put it in the words of the old song: ‘We will say good night here, But good morning up there!’
Alex Cowe was, in my eyes, a man who was worthy of the name of soldier of Christ!
I was first introduced to Alex and Christine Cowe in the early months of 1980, on a visit to Peterhead to preach for the vacancy that existed for the post of Pastor of the Assemblies of God Church in Chapel Street.
During that weekend my wife and I were farmed out to various members of the congregation so they could get a taste of what we were really like. A kind of beauty parade! What they saw was what they got. A couple with three kids, one just a babe in arms, who came with a desire to serve people. Alex and Christine welcomed us warmly into their home. Since that day to this I can still remember being treated like royalty with such tender care and respect. I still feel that warmth even now nearly 27 years later.
I never asked them what they thought about us, this strange family from Edinburgh translated to Peterhead, I did not need to. I knew from day one that they cared for us that was all that mattered. At the end of the weekend I was asked if I would like to go down to watch the fishing vessels set out ‘back o’ Sunday’. This was to become one of my favourite pastimes during my stay in Peterhead. Alex Cowe took me on board the Shemara, the vessel of which he was first mate, she was a pair trawler, which had just been lengthened along with her sister vessel the Golden Dawn, skippered by Alex’s brother, Andrew(?).
Alex was so proud of these vessels, lengthened to 106ft, with sea water refrigeration in the holds, to enable them to fish for herring and mackerel, as well as white fish. So much so that on this evening he just had to show me over these vessels. I could not deny myself such an outing, I had never been on a deep sea fishing vessel before and this would be my introduction! I was like a young child! Of I went with the words of my wife ringing in my ears, she did not have to say anything, the look was enough: ‘make sure you do not get any oil on that new suit you are wearing.’ Alex gave me the tour of his Shemara, wheelhouse, galley, saloon, sleeping quarters, fish deck, the works. I was doing well until I came past a brand new piece of deck equipment on my way off the vessel and yes, you guessed – a great ‘dollop’ of oil brushed onto my new suit. Alex looked at me and said absolutely nothing, but shrugged his shoulders and gave me a look as if to say: ‘you’re on your own’.
During my time as Pastor of the Assembly Alex treated me as not just a friend but allowed me to be his ‘Pastor’, he never referred to me as anything else. Even after I left the Assembly in 1982 he always spoke to me using the term ‘Pastor’ before correcting himself! He was that kind of fellow! In a strange way I was deeply saddened when I heard of his promotion to glory. Unfortunately I could not be present at his funeral as I was overseas at the time.
In life it is often the case that some people you come into contact with make little or no impression. That cannot be said about Alex Cowe. When he dealt with me, he was, in the words of the AV a ‘familiar friend’. Over the years since we left Peterhead, we kept in touch and occasionally, never enough really, we met up, he visited us here at least once and we met at various times when I returned north. In my life I only ever felt a distinct call to one place of ministry, Peterhead, it was to people like Alex and Christine Cowe I found it my privilege to serve.
You will note from this, that Alex Cowe was a special, a brother in Christ. He may never have gained much from me but I certainly was enriched by his friendship from day one. My only regret is that I was unable to be with him or at his funeral to join with others to say farewell. Or to put it in the words of the old song: ‘We will say good night here, But good morning up there!’
Alex Cowe was, in my eyes, a man who was worthy of the name of soldier of Christ!
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