Boldon Book

The committee and myself take great pleasure in presenting the fifth issue of the School Magazine.

Every year the number of contributions increases, and once more we have the difficult, but enjoyable task of sorting out the articles to be included. We thank everybody who submitted an entry, unfortunately lack of space limits the number of contributions published.

We have tried to include articles to suit everybody and we hope you will enjoy reading them as much as we have done.

I am very pleased to realise that the First Phase of building in connection with the school's becoming Comprehensive is nearly at an end.. With any luck, we should be able to call the school our own again very early nest term and forget all the dirt, noise and inconvenience that we have endured over the past year. I think we could have two years of peace before the process commences once again and all the other necessary buildings are erected. In addition to the Second Phase, we hope to have a Community Centre, with a 25 metre Swimming Pool, Squash Courts. a Bowls, Archery and Golf indoor area, besides facilities for adults in the way of lounges, bars and rooms for other leisure pursuits. This will be the first of its kind in CountyDurham, except for the Billingham Forum, and a Centre of which Boldon can justly feel proud.

In September 1970, all the children from the Junior Schools in Boldon will be coming to this school. The initial facilities will include a new Woodwork Room, two Metalwork Rooms, two new domestic Science Rooms, five Science laboratories, a special Technical Drawing room, extra Art and Music accommodation and also the new House blocks with dining facilities and the new School hall and the Games hall. With the gradual increase in numbers then additional staff will be required so that the best use is made of all the improvements included in the first Phase.

Everything is new, clean and tidy and this brings me to pride in personal appearance. This helps towards pride in work, the opposite being also true. The aim in uniformity in dress is to give the school a proper corporate spirit and to avoid appearance giving away the different home backgrounds. Clothes must be purchased, and to buy a black blazer and blue or grey cardigans, blouses etc., is no more expensive than buying other articles. Please ask your parents to help in this matter so that visitors to the school my be impressed by the general appearance of all pupils.

I am delighted that through the efforts of all concerned the standard of this magazine is being maintained and my special thanks go out to them.. This also includes those whose work has not been published. The credit is there for the effort you have made.Again it is "au revoir" and best wishes to the pupils who are leaving. I do not say "Good bye" as that implies not meeting again, and believe me. The staff and I area interested in your future wellbeing. You cease to be girls and boys and become ladies and gentlemen, with all that those words imply.. Good fortune to you all.

I cannot let this opportunity pass without congratulating Mr Tarbitt on his appointment as Headmaster of Whitburn Secondary School. We were, of course, very sorry to lose him from our staff and thank him for the excellent work he did for the school.. It is with deep regret too that we say farewell to Miss Pierce. No school has ever had a more conscientious mistress.and no Headmaster could ever have had such excellent support. Thousands of children have passed through her hands and they have gained nothing but good as a result. Please join with me in wishing her a long and happy retirement and saying an extra big THANK YOU for services rendered.

My taste in reading is to varied that it is difficult to specify one particular type of book which I prefer. If I begin to read something which I find interesting. I become so engrossed in it that my sense of time is lost. Among the many types of books which I read. one is predominant, and that is stories of the supernatural, more commonly called ghost stories.

Although I say I do not believe in ghosts, these spectre-stricken stories infested with haunted buildings and blood-curdling sounds hold a certain fascination for me which I cannot explain. Recantations of the horrific rites of satanic power and appalling apparitions too terrible to relate are, to my mind, the essence of a good, terrifying ghost story.

My favourite reading time for these books is about eleven or twelve o'clock at night, just before I go to sleep. The same sensational excitement is not experienced if these books are read during the day, as it all seems too impossible to believe and there must be some belief or at least some lurking doubt before one enjoys these stories. A complete disbeliever in the supernatural would probably not enjoy this type of reading as I do. A complete disbeliever does not read these stories anyway, because he does not need convincing. An agnostic would probably enjoy these books and would gain full satisfaction of being terrified, which is why these books are read in the first place. Whether I am reading of ghostly apparitions, favourite hauntings of phantoms, or merely peculiar and inexplicable phenomena , my imagination becomes so carried away, that I am half afraid to look up from the book in case some frightful, fiend-like spectre is standing over me with a mocking expression on its face. A hasty retreat under the blankets is a sure cure for this.

Because ghosts are usually associated with evil doings, I am half afraid to admit belief in the expectation that I may be "whipped away" by Clootie (old name for the Devil) himself, so until I am firmly convinced one way or the other, I will continue to read in enjoyable fear and 'laugh it off' afterwards.

After school I usually get changed and go over to my cousin's house. It just so happened that when I went over, Alison Muir, from Form 4 Arts, was writing an article for a girls' comic. Alan and I asked if we could read it, she gave it to us, and this is what we read.

When my mother was a child she was used to wearing navy "panties", and she utterly hated them. Her mother found out that she hated the school panties so she went out and bought her some pink frilly "panties". She was so pleased with these that she would not let anyone but herself iron them. One day she had ironed the "panties", she folded them neatly and wrapped them up in a towel for safekeeping, and left them to dry on the table. Just at that moment her father came in and picked up the towel, thinking it had been left there for him to take to the pit showers.

After a hard day's work, the miners retreated up the shaft to the showers, so they could get cleaned uyp and go off home. After the showers they sll come out to get dry! They picked up their towels and gave them a wuick shake to get all the dust off the towels, because of their having been in their dirty rucksacks. You can imagine the look on the miners' faces when her father flicked from his towel a pair of frilly "panties".

Many things are enjoyable to watch or do; one of these is football which has a long history as it was played before the Middle Ages. In the early days, it was illegal to play football and men could be put in prison for breaking the law.

The early football was not like the football we play today. In those days goal posts were just chalked on a wall or a fence. Men did not play on a field but in the streets, so the pitches were not straight. When they played, hundreds of them were running around the streets kicking the ball as in those days anyone joined in. After a while, they started to play on fields and so come about the goal posts which did not have a crossbar, only a piece of string. When this came about, they started to cut down the number of players as they knew too many were playing. They decided on eleven players a side as it is today.

After a short space of time, professional football clubs started to "pop up" all over England, so some important men got together and thought of a contest in which the winner would receive a cup, the F.A. cup, which means the Football Association Cup. All the clubs which wanted to enter for this contest had to give some money toward the buying of the cup. I think it was the Wanderers against the Royal Engineers in the final and Wanderers won 1 - 0.

After this they started to play better as more cups, like the League Cup and the World Cup later on, could be won.

In 1938 when England went to play in Germany the English team were made to salute Hitler which they did not like to do , so they said they would beat the German team which they did. They won 6 - 3 which made Hitler angry as he thought his team were invincible, which they were not.

So we see football was played form the Middle Ages and before to today and it is improving all the time. It is becoming more interesting and is played better as the conditions in which is played are improving.

To look at BoldonSecondary school today one would hardly think it possible that in a matter of a few years the whole character of the school has been changed. The school is no longer a dull brick building surrounded by fields butt a bright atmosphere has arrived with the construction of new prefabricated school halls and classrooms.

If one's parents were to attend the school today, they would observe an enormous change. No longer is the school separated into a boys' and a girls' school, and the old rule that girls must come and go be the girls/ entrance, and likewise for the boys, has also been dissolved.

One does not say "I am going to room 1" but "I am going to House Block 1 and to the Administration Block".

Many new changes like this have been for the better. In a morning one goes straight to the Assembly Hall, which now with its great capacity holds all the school. There is more contact between pupils and teachers, and the day is started off in the morning by Br. Armstrong wishing all a "Good Morning". It must also be very pleasant for him when all six hundred pupils join in the chorus of "Good Morning" Teachers also take part in this with the men teachers on the right of Mr. Armstrong and the ladies to the left. It sets an example to the pupils that, if teachers can attend the service and hoin in regularly, then there is no reason for pupils to grumble.

Mr. Armstrong tries very hard to make each service as interesting as possible, and if you think that it is boring and you make it obvious, one must also think that Mr Armstrong who has to face six hundred bored pupils, and that too is not easy. But, with joint effort, assembly can go with a 'swing'.

These new buildings have also introduced many facilities. A new sports hall has just been built which is large enough for four badminton courses across. Now Mr Storey can have night classes which before was impossible. Also the new hall in the Administration Block has the up-to-date equipment of spot lights and a control panel for fading lights. This can allow much more professional plays and concert to be performed. If such an occasion should happen, the hall is large enough to hold about five hundred as an audience.

All pupils should be proud of their new school and help to keep it new for future pupils to have as much pleasure out of it as we have.

People differ in their opinions about which is the best, boxing or judo. With judo you are less likely to hurt and it is suitable for both boys and girls. One well-known boxer said, "If a judo expert grabs me before I punch him hard, he wins, but if I punch him hard before he grabs me, I win". If a Judoha is attacked he is restricted in the amount of force he is allowed to use. He must not inflict more pain than necessary on his adversary. A simple wrist-lock will show your attacker that you are not to be toyed with. In judo we use our opponent's clothing and his own weight against him. This is useful for women. If they are attacked they can throw a full-grown man and subdue him. But don’t think that if you know judo you are invincible. You are not. But you have a better chance.

Most people's idea of karate is a Japanese expert breaking tiles with his head, large planks of wood with his hand, bricks with his elbow and boards with his feet. This is mostly due to publicity given to the more spectacular parts of the sport which are usually only demonstrations. I prefer Judo to the other arts of self defence because it works as a means of self defence and not as attack.

Often on a sunny day I go down to the beach. As soon as you get off the bus, a slight breeze gushes up and hits you in your face. With it comes the smell of the sea, freshness and cleanliness. The wind whistles and the sea wraps its great white surf and its spray around itself.

You walk along, thinking or the lands the water has touched, the disasters it has seen and the changes in plants, people and animals it has seen since creation. Think, too, that this great expanse of water covers two-thirds of the earth's millions of square miles. It washes up the fish and mammals that live there. They spend their whole lives under the water. The beautiful plant life dances with the movements of the oceans. Their colours are brilliant. The life under there (the creatures, the waves, the sea) must be fantastic. Back up here on land there is much to see.

As the sea comes up the shore, it brings with it its "harvest", its "crop", or, if hyou prefer it,"its manufacture". By this I mean its shells, pebbles and plants.

The water looks fresh and clean as it rolls up the beach, its white surf rattling the pebbles and making a whispering sound as it sis "sucked " back towards the sea. It is like someone struggling somewhere, but being forced back.

As the sea rises, the people "retreat" and slowly but surely the water "creeps" up the beach. Its line starts to move up the pier until the place looks empty.

The people now are hurrying for 'buses or sitting down looking at the sea, or merely walking, as I am, looking and thinking of the wonders of the sea.

Now I come here to compare the winter with the summer. As soon as I get off the 'bus, an icy, cold wind coming off the sea hits me bitterly in the face. The spray is also sensed but not seen. I can also sense my face and cheeks turning red with the cold. The people are not here and miles upon miles of empty coastline lie taking great batterings from the weather.

Once again I see the great waves and surf but it is not on the pebbles. It is coming in, in big waves, and battering the pier, causing massive sixteen foot waves and welting people who are unfortunate enough to be nearby.

Various objects, (weeds, sea-weed, old shoes and balls), are hurled onto the pier. What a mess the place is in. passers-bys' hair is blown and they are tormented by the unmerciful gales.

Yes, definitely the summer is the best - the brilliant sun-shine throwing off terrific heat, the people enjoying themselves. All together, the summer at the beach is surely the best time and the best place.

A full year of careful planning, design and research went into the stamps for the Prince of Wales' Investiture on July 1^st. Invitations were sent in March 1968 to eight artists, including Welsh artists Roy Morgan and David Jones, and Cardiff and Newport colleges of Art. Many fine desighns were sent to the Tight Honourable john Stonehouse (British Postmaster General) but the most outstanding was a set sent by David Gentleman.

The artist and printers, Harrisons, spent many months perfecting the designs, guided by the Advisory Committee and Harrisons did great deal of research on metallic inks for the fine silver and gold backgrounds of the fivepenny and ninepenny stamps.

The Investiture stamps were the second series to show Caernarvon Castle, the first being the high value definitive (five shillings), which was replaced on March 5^th. this year by a new stamp showing only the Queen's head.

This was the first time that Welsh had appeared on every stamp in the set. It had previously appeared on the one shilling and sixpenny bridge stamp depiction the Menai suspension Bridge. About one hundred and thirty million stamps were on sale in Britain. A special philatelic office in Caernarvon handled orders for first day covers with the local postmark in English and Welsh.

The strip of three fivepenny stamps, called a Triptych, the ninepenny stamp and the one shilling stamp which comprised the set, bear the words "Prince of Wales" in English and Welsh, "Tywysog Cymru".

The Triptych depicts three of the gates at Caermarvon Castle, King's gate, Eagle tower and Queen Eleanor's gate.

A Celtic Cross, from Margam Abbey, Glamorgan, is shown on the ninepenny stamp, and, in my opinion, the worst stamp is a threequarter face portrait of Prince Charles. This is because it is a dull stamp and the Prince is not a very handsome person really.

In between drinks, sandwiches and being stuck on a sandbank in the Mersey Estuary, the school trip to Ireland got off to a good start. The boat, or a rather overgrown tub, arrived at Dublin two hours late. When we reached the Guest House, it looked fantastic, White lace net and red velvet curtains were in all the windows. The boy, whose mother owned the Guest House, showed us to our different rooms. The room my two friends and I were in was on the ground floor facing the sea. When we walked into the room our eyes were filled with disappointment. There was a huge old fashioned marble fireplace with a fireguard; which when lifted, the handle and one of the legs were shown to be fastened on by only one screw. The dressing table was something out of the ark or a sales room. The wardrobe, with its hangers from the Crown Hotel, (a totally different hotel altogether), was infested with mothballs. The two armchairs were so close to the ground that you could almost use the floor as a table while writing cards. But the best was yet to come. My friend decided to try out the single bed for size and as she lay full stretch on the bed, the head board dropped off.

After a couple of days, the teacher decided to take us on a trip. The first place we went to was a park, it was lovely. There were trees, trees and trees, big and small and different shades of green. Then we had our lunch by a lake. The meat sandwiches were covered in fat, and the bank of the lake was crawling with long legged spiders. One boy lost his shoe and had to sit in the coach while we all got covered in bog water. The teacher wanted us to see a view of a lake from a hill, so we eagerly got out of the coach to see the lake. We climbed over weeds, were stung by nettles and nearly broke our necks on the boulders that lay in our path. When we hit the bog, it looked like black soil. And then when we were all standing on the soil, we began to sink and the water oozed up into our shoes.

Although the trip had its bad faults, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. It was "Great" and if anyone wants fun on a holiday you could not have any more than the fun I had "Across the Irish Sea".

At twelve o'clock exactly a loud, consistent buzzing vibrated noisily for three times, and faded away into the silence form which it had emerged. The sudden transformation in our classroom was shattering.

Suddenly all the studious, quiet, pupils who had been working away like proverbial angels literally threw away their wings and halos and sprouted wings and tails. Hated textbooks were crammed haphazardly into already bulging haversacks and the volume of noise increased as if it had been turned on ht a radio. The teacher, however, seemed quite unperturbed by all the turmoil, and after qu8etly and methodically putting away his books, he glared at the impatient class, and growled softy, ""Go on, Gerrout!"

Theses words had the desired effect and the room was suddenly emptied of thirty three scholars, who vacated the class in a fantastic time. Some, apparently trying to beat the four minute mile, dashed along the crowded corridors for home, but other stupid fools (including myself) found ourselves outside the dining quarter. A strong, pungent aroma, promising cabbage or fish, greeted me a I reached the door, so taking one last deep breath I walked into the crowded hall, and secured a seat on one of the wobbling forms provided. As other people joined me I watched in horror as the form creaked protestingly on its hinges, and sank slowly down. Although told (by my neighbour) that it was safe, I was not reassured , and prepared for an undignified descent onto the floor, at the some time making a mental note to keep as much weight as possible off it.

By this time the hall was full, so the harassed teacher on duty mumbled a short grace (ignoring other versions hissed at him from various tables) and gave the command, "Right, Servers!"

The daily stampede began. The "dinner ladies" were almost hidden from view as crowds of famished pupils rushed towards them from all directions.

Soon the clashing and banging of cutlery against plates (or tables) could be distinguished above the din, but the noise soon became less noticeable as pupils received their dinners and began endeavouring to cram as much food in their mouths as possible without choking.

I received my dinner and after the first initial shock sat looking at it for quite some time, before deciding that it was edible.

On the large, whjite, china plate, reposed two potatoes, looking very much the worse for wear, one undersized, pale, anaemic sausage, some stringy of -white leaves (cabbage ) and. Serving to hide the rest, some brown, lumpy dishwater (later defined as gravy). I waded through this, carefully avoiding the cabbage, as I am not partial to seaweed dyed white,, and ordered my sweet.

This was slightly better, although a hammer and chisel would have been better than a spoon, because the cornflake pie was rock solid. After fishing out the last piece from the frothy, yellow sea of custard, I placed my plate on the appropriate pile, and walked out of the hall, ignoring my stomach which, unused to such treatment , was reacting violently.

I sauntered up the empty corridor and decided to spend the remaining time of the dinner hour in the classroom, attempting to do some of our ever-increasing homework, which all teachers delight in handing out "Just to keep us busy"

Crossing the yard to the new block was something resembling a crazy obstacle race, because I had to avoid such menaces as cement mixers, holes, loose wire, piles of newly mixed cement, sand and mud, all waiting to trip up or bog down the unwary pupil. This accomplished, I flopped down in the large classroom, and began a terrible struggle with irregular French verbs and mathematical horrors.

Finally the buzzer vibrated once more, driving all thoughts of Pythag and his delightful theo from my befuddled head, I selected my books for the afternoon's lessons and walked slowly down the crowded corridor , at the end of a typical school dinner hour.

Aa small boy and girl were walking through a graveyard. It was a dark, cold night by the children were not afraid, that is until something happened ……..
…."Who's that?" said the girl when she heard a twig beak behind them.

"Don't'' be silly", said the boy, "it's only your imagination", but then he heard something which sounded like somebody tripping over a stone.

Now, both children were afreaid byt neither would admit it until theysaw a shadow behich them, and then they both said together that they were afreaid. The shadow followed them around the graveyard.

"I've just realised something ," said the boy, "shadows can't exist in the dark".

There seemed to be no way out of the thought of the shadow except that it was a ghost, and so both children walked along, hoping that the 'ghost'; would not do anything to them. Then it seemed to take off its head and put it under its arm.

"Boo!" it said, frightening them even more than before, and then it began to laugh and took off its disguise. It turned out to be their brother playing a practical joke on them.

"How did you make yourself look like a shadow?" said the boy. "I wore a dark coat said his brother, "and to make myself look as though I had lost my head I really had a ball on my head and I had my collar turned up".

Then the girl heard something. "Who's that?" she said, "I thought I heard a twig break behind us"

Once upon a time there was an inventor called Mr. Wilson. He had an enemy called Mr. Heath who was a Con. man. Mr Wilson did not like Mr. Heath and he was frightened because he thought Mr. heath might take his place as chief inventor and storyteller. Quite often they would go and have a talk in the Houses of Talkiment or, as they say in France, "Parlement". All day they would argue and talk. Sometimes Mr. Wilson would invent some very good fairy stories called promises. He then went around and told all the people in the country the stories because he thought it would make them all love him. Quite a number of people liked his stories so they voted and elected him "Chief fairy story teller" or Prime Minister. He was so pleased that he got a new house with a policeman outside the door to help him across the road and scare would-be Coon. men away, because they might throw stink-bombs or break in and steal his stories. All Mr. Wilson's helpers were pleased because he had saved Labour with his devices so the Most Popular ones, (M.P.'s for short) had a Labour Party to celebrate.

After a while he started to do nasty things to the people. He froze their wages till they were so cold they dropped them, and a little animal called Tax devoured the wages. Mr. Wilson became Mr. Almighty and made prices heavenly, very high. The people did not like this and they began to hate Mr. Almighty just as they hated Mr. Brown Ale and Mr. Jenkins. Many people began to like Mr. Heath and his Con. Men which made him happy. Nr. Almighty was cross because the people liked Mr. Heath or Smiler as he was called and Mr. Almighty became very jealous. All over the country people voted for Mr. Heath and his Con. men in mini-elections. Mr. Almighty's devices were failing fast. Nobody liked his fairy stories any more and did not listen to him. Even comedians (real ones not the politician ones) made fun of him and people thought that that was funny.

Mr. Almighty had to think so he went to the Scilly Isles to think up "scilly" stories. He was worried because hardly anybody liked him, even his castle at Bar-Bara was no longer his home. So he is going to think for a while and was heard to say, "Well, there's quite a while until the next election so I've time to find a way of getting rid of the Con. Men and finding some new Labour saving devices."

One night during the Easter holidays we caught a wild duck. It was covered in oil. We took it home and put it in the old rabbit hutch for the night.

The next morning Mum sent me out for it. I took it in and gave it some bread, soaked in hot milk, and a bowl of water. It ate the food we gave it and then drank the water; then it started to walk round the kitchen and found a piece of string. It began to play with the string. After about ten minutes it got tired of playing with the string and started to follow Judy our dog around.

After dinner we took it to the P.D.S.A. in South Shields. The man said that the oil had been absorbed into its lungs and given it pneumonia and he would have to put it down.

As many people know, our school will soon become Boldon Comprehensive School and not Boldon Secondary. This of course will make a huge difference to Boldon, one of the reasons being that there will be more things to do, not only for pupils of the school but also for the teenagers who have left school. Many people have complained about there being nothing to do at Boldon. Well, this new school and its new equipment has enabled something to be done about this. In fact, some thing has been done already.

Mr. Storey, the boys' P.E. teacher, has started night classes at the school. These are P.E. night classes for both boys and girls of the ages of fifteen to eighteen. Every Thursday, for four till seven thirty, Nr. Storey takes this night class. He has the girls from four till six, and then the boys, from six till seven thirty. The cost for this night class is seven shillings and sixpence per year.

All types of sport are included in this; netball, basketball, football, cricket, badminton, table tennis, tennis and all athletics. When the new gym is finished, we hope to play most of the games in there, that is, tennis, badminton, table tennis and netball. Everyone can join in at any game or sport for as long as wished, there is nothing one must do.

This is a very good idea as not only dies it fill in a little time byut also it enables them tomeet new friends, learn new sports and at the some time keep fit.

The transistor radio blares out the latest songs in the Hit Parade, the baby cries, Robin shouts to dad about some tool or other, and I try to concentrate on my homework. This is the Angus family on a Saturday. Heather, my sister, has brought her baby, Paula, and herself to East Boldon to see us because Frank, her husband, is working. Robin, my brother, has taken his car apart and has now found, after cleaning all the engine, that it will not go back together again. Dad sits calmly reading he paper, telling anyone who cares to listen about football, while my Mam goes around asking everyone what they want for dinner and receiving no reply. This is how it is normally and I do not think that one of us would want to change it, except perhaps Heather who would probably want Frank with her instead of being in a complete stranger's house telling the owners what was wrong with their gas fire.

My parents are two entirely different people with exactly opposite characters. My mam is about five foot three with fair hair and grey eyes, she has a marvellous way of looking on the bright side of things, even if she does have a quick temper. She is very thin and although she worries, you would not think so by looking at her. Mam has recently been in hospital and she gets terrible pains in her back, she always seems as if she has not a care in the world though. Dad, as I said before, is entirely different, he is about five foot seven with dark curly air and a bald patch in the centre of his head. He is getting rather fat, to look at you would think he had all the cares of the world upon his shoulders, except when he laughs - in truth he never lets anything worry him. When he wants to be, and I don't want him to be, he can be as deaf as a doorpost but when I do not want him to hear, he generally does. My dad can be awfully pessimistic when he puts his mind to it and it takes quite a bit to change his mind. He hardly ever gets into a temper because he hardly ever hears what one says to him.

Both my brothers are like one or other of their parents, Malcolm, the eldest, twenty-nine, looks like dad, the only difference being that Malcolm was ill and in hospital for three years, thus gaining his bald patch, while dad got his through old age. Robin, the younger, twenty-four, has his mam's fair hair and grey eyes but he is much taller, broader and stronger than mam. Malcolm has my mother's character and my father's intelligence. He is an architect in Warrington, Lancashire, so we rarely see him. Robin, my other brother, is a motor mechanic in South Shields, to look at his car one would not think so. It looks as if a puff of wind would demolish it utterly. In actual fact, it is a very good car. Malcolm's car is an Austin Sprite and is in the best of condition. My brother, though, being the person he is, is still not satisfied with it. He wants a car which will drive over the roughest conditions and still look as if it has just been driven out of the show-room. Robin does not mind whether a car is in perfect condition or not as long as it gets him where he is going in much the same condition as he set out in

My sister is like neither of my parents. She is twenty six, has been married to Frank, thirty, for six years and they have a sixteen-month-old daughter Paula. They live in Jarrow.Heather has always been determined to get what she wanted and what she has always wanted is what she has, a family and a house of her own

So that is my family. Heather happily settled down ,Malcolm an architect which was always his ambition, Robin the mechanic who never had any particular ambition, except to live, and both of them declaring that they are not going to marry until they are thirty-two. Then my parents, mam, still worrying about Robin and me in particular because she thinks we should have a fixed aim in life, and dad who is content to go on as he is but not content to let Robin or myself go on as we are. That is the Angus family and despite all our faults, I think that we are all of us happy as we are.

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