Oh Gene Vincent

Maggie Graham

1960

Did I tell you I once sat on Gene Vincents knee?

It was the summer of 1960 and it all started with a bath in the afternoon. That wouldve been exciting enough. Baths were for Sunday nights along with freshly pressed school clothes and five wee pink and white cotton hankies, ironed and folded in a pile on the sideboard. During the week I usually got washed in the scullery, mother and a hot soapy face cloth scrubbing away the stoor of school and muck of the public park.

But this was the school holidays and I was going somewhere with my Auntie Rosa. She was one of my mothers half dozen younger sisters. Only twenty; too young to be called Auntie. She was oors, oor Rosa and she was taking me on a big trip. I got all dressed up. Cotton dress with cherries printed round the hem, white angora bolero, knitted by my mother, white ankle socks and sandals, with one of my hankies tucked up my sleeve. Oor Rosa, when she arrived, was dressed up too. Shed on a suit, a two piece, in dark green light wool. It set off her auburn hair and green eyes. The tight skirt and her high heels made her bum stick out. I thought she looked even lovelier than she had on her wedding day, a few months before. Id been her flower girl, presented her with a horseshoe. Her man, oor Jim was away to be a soldier on national service. Years later I heard him say that it was the best time of his life. I was glad, for it was certainly the best of hers. ... (continues)