Visitors Memories

06/02/08

John Walker

09/02/08

The Boss

I used to play football behind Farden Avenue near the old Lime Kiln at an area we called 'Wee Hampden'. I thought it was boys of my age who christened the patch of grass 'Wee Hampden' in the 70's and was surprised to discover that men 20 years older than me also played there and were familiar with the name.

17/02/08

John Walker

13/03/08

Bobby Rogerson

Many many thanks for this photo of my dear friend Bob Turnbull. Other than the scout camp photos on the site, this is the only photo I have of my friend of many years. A wee story about Bob. He was one of the plumber Turnbulls who had their workshop at Afton brig (I believe Billy Hastie has the place now). Bob bought a house in Pathead halfway up hill on the right, for the princely sum of ten ---yes TEN--- pounds. He took his family to Canada (Brampton near Toronto) just after his son Billy was born. Bob died about five years back. A great guy and a great singer. His ashes are scattered on Steyamara, where he roamed with the rest of us many, many times.
Thanks again---
Boabby

29/03/08

Alex Jess

The Afton Cinema at Connel Park or as it was more commonly known ' the Barn' was something else . Known as the Barn because it was just that in shape and made of corrugated metal .
It had the best of films and always packed but very noisy with the patron's shouting at the newsreels Scotland versus England and Atlee versus Churchill and in the Winter you could not hear the soundtrack for the hailstones battering off the roof. In the summer time it was the stuckie's (tarlings) nesting behind the clock above the screen. Coming home you were Roy Rodgers on Trigger or Tarzan in his latest adventure .
Great days and back to the hoose as happy as Larry The Good Old Days.

07/04/08

15/05/08

Alex Jess

In the early to middle fifty's Craigbank had a fitba team called simply 'the Bank boys'. They played in the local Churches league I believe. There home ground was the old sloping pitch of the Glen's at the time in Connel Park. A home ground if ever there was one. The manager
''Dida' Hastings and what a character, The Alex Ferguson of his day. I never knew his christian name . Team talks consisted of "get tore right intae thum". When asked his team of the day he answered every time "Oor Davy and other ten". Davy being his son and a stalwart right back who took no prisoners. He was the fiirst name on the team sheet at all times.
Other names were Whiteford, Montgomery, McGhee and Telfer to name a few and goalkeeper big Joe Hyslop who never took his specs off he said he saw to much with them off. There secret weapon was surely their half time refreshment's. No slice of orange for them. Screw taps's were the order of the day. The first thing packed in the trainers bag was a bottle opener. Oh and the referee never talked back to them quite a team. ' Dida' and his boy's feared nothing or no one. I salute you The Bank Boy's

19/05/08

Paddy Dornan

Dida Hastings first name was David. The Bank team did play in the Churches league but I think it was a minister from Dalmellington who signed their papers, not sure about this. Joe Hyslop was only the reserve goalkeeper, Ken Dunn from Dalmellington was first choice.
We also had a team in the Churches League and we were known as Greenhead.
We tried to get the local minister to sign our papers but for some reason he was not interested, so we went to the minister of the Craigbank Church Rev. Joe Buchanan and he said he would sign our papers on one condition. Six of our players had to attend the Craigbank Church every Sunday morning sp we did! We took turn about and if it was your turn to go to church and you didn't go you were dropped for the next game.
These were the days when the ball was made from leather and if it was a wet day the ball got heavier as the game progressed and by the end of the game you had great difficulty hitting or heading the ball any distance. Aye thay wur the days.

22/08/08

Annie Jess

Malcolm Turner demolish the Bank House in the early 1960s.
The 17 rooms had sashes, which when pulled, rang a bell in the servant’s quarters. The bells had numbers so they knew which room needed room service.
The dining and drawing rooms had Oriel windows.
The dining room had two doors and a pantry where the silver was polished.
The laird and his wife lived in a small parlour which had a library. This may have been for ease of heating the house.
There was a spiral staircase inside the house leading to the roof.
They employed a table maid, two gardeners, a gamekeeper, chauffeur and two cows that were milked every day for use in the house. The cows were milked by Mrs. Peg Shankland.
At Christmas they would get £1, a new uniform and cap along with a gift.
The laird had a stroke in 1935-36, resulting in him having his own private nurse for the last six weeks of his life. The nurse was Carina O'Hara.
Mrs Jess and nurse Carina O'Hara had to clean and dress the laird for his funeral.
The colliery's directors meetings were held in the house.
The coal company were not theoretically allowed to extract any coal from under the house, but they repeatedly did. The staff could often here shots going off under the house as coal blasting was carried out.
The furniture from the house was sold at auction by Thomas Love from Perth.
The locals would line the road, cap in hand, to watch the laird and his wife go to church in their pony and trap.
Mrs Jess earned £1 a month and worked there from 1934-38.
The laird was a bit of a lad in his younger days!

Rena Lees

On reading John Walkers tale of IP, I too have a story relating to the same gentleman. I P's definition of a snob, was someboy who had black grapes in the hoose, and they werny no-weel.!!

12/04/09

John Walker

One year in the 1940s, in their wisdom, the Castle Races organisers decided that there should be trotting races. - Not people you understand, but horses, with a full card of six races and with bookies so that there could be betting. On the day, a grand total of three horses turned up! One of which was a genuine racer - or may once have been - but the other two would have been more at home between the shafts of a Co-op van and in fact looked as if they probably had put in a shift that morning. The good horse ran freely but the others had to wear special hobbles to stop them breaking into a gallop. A completely unnecessary precaution as an arthritic shuffle was about their limit. Another feature was that there was no sulky or cart behind the horses but instead they had jockeys up who endured an extremely bone-shattering ride. To compensate for the difference in class of the animals they had handicapping whereby the poorer horses were given various starts - much like the Powderhall sprints. I believe the various results had less to do with the handicapping than with how much had been bet on each horse because it seems likely that the jockeys and bookies were on closer terms than they would have wanted to admit. The fact that the last race finished just in time for the latter to stuff their winnings into their satchells and run to catch the five o'clock train suggested that they had realised that the punters might be somewhat less than happy.

12/04/09

Alex Jess

Whit a charachter was auld I P
The wee ditty began when young I P went to Blackpool on holiday .After two days he was skint . So he sent a postcard home to Dad saying No mun no fun your son
To be replied to by Auld I P with a New Cumnock postcard to him To bad so sad your Dad
Yes a worthy if ever there was one

22/07/09

Billy Nisbet

What a lovely surprise to see the sixties photos, they bring back so many memories. The big house adjacent to the Scout Hut sits on the land where the tennis courts used to be. I remember them well as, when I was a Scout, we used to have our outdoor activities there. I went to the scout hut from 1950 till 1960. I remember a few of us re-painting it in 1959. http://www.newcumnock.net/images/sixties/bcscouts.jpg. The Blackwood owned the greenhouses in the 40s and 50s

07/09/09

John Walker

On a summer Saturday afternoon in the 1940s, come rain or shine, the busiest place in New Cumnock was always the Castle Green. There, on a wooden shutter covering a window of a small brick building, Wullie Walker the Bookie would pin up the racing pages. His ‘runner’, Geordie Lind, would be in constant motion to and from the public phone box by Tweedy's Garage to ascertain the winners and odds of the previous races and the runners in the next. Once confirmed, winners would be paid out there and then.

Weather permitting, there would also be one or more card schools playing Brag or Twenty-one. Not that anyone minded getting soaked but the cards tended to disintegrate when wet. Occasionally if it was not otherwise in use, Jack MacFarlane's slaughter-house would be commandeered.

And always there were the ‘tossing’ schools where, on the toss of two pennies, quite large sums were won or lost - especially during the miners' holiday week. In those days most men either kept back pocket money and handed over their pay packets (and responsibility for the family finances) to their wives or passed them over unopened and received pocket money in return. The loss of this meant nothing worse than going without beer and cigs for the rest of the week. However, throughout the year, miners paid weekly into a holiday fund. Because it was mostly only young single men and girls who actually went away on holiday, there was a lot more spare cash sloshing around the village in the holiday week and a large proportion of it inevitably finished on the Castle Green. I remember one occasion when a man from Connelpark, whose name I can't now recall, won over £100. This may seem like small beer to younger visitors but the equivalent nowadays would perhaps be about four thousand pounds - in dirty notes and pockets full of coins.

All of these activities were of course illegal but the police, in the person of Sergeant Leslie, seemed to turn a blind eye, presumably on the basis that if the men were on the Castle Green they weren't getting into trouble elsewhere. In contrast, in the 1930s, I believe a large tossing school behind the bing at Knockshinnoch was regularly raided but look-outs provided plenty of warning and without actually catching someone red-handed it must have been difficult to prove an offence had been committed. I can't recall anyone ever being caught let alone charged or convicted.