Third of May

Ronnie McGowan

The 3rd of May is a brilliant time to have a birthday. I've known this from a young age.

It's at the beginning of summer so the days are a bit warmer, with evenings stretching into the light nights and a feeling of optimism is in the air.

Anticipation aplenty-obviously.

The great thing about having your birthday on this date is that quite often it's a holiday of one kind or another.

Apart from weekends (which is nice of course) this date often falls on the first Monday in May that being a May Day holiday, and then when I was much younger local government elections were held on the first Tuesday in May so this was often a holiday birthday as well.

Fantastic!

In our household election days were always exciting, a vibrant busy hub of activity in returning good solid Labour councillors to represent this post-war northern outpost bordering Dundee. And when General Elections were announced, often at that time of year, they were always held on a Thursday so I might hit the jackpot again of being on holiday on my birthday!

General Elections generate their own special buzz because the nation is returning a new government. New faces, new names, new characters, new ideas.

And so it was when I had turned 27 years of age that a General Election was held, on my special day!

I had been teaching in the east end of Glasgow for three years (Jock Stein had been the manager of a football club just up the road) and I very much welcomed a day's respite from the chalk face (which it literally was, compared to the electronic whiteboards of today).

I was so young that I hadn't even had my first driving lesson. Recently married, we were without any chairs or furniture in the sitting room because a young teacher's salary was just enough to pay for a monthly 'transcard' and holidays abroad. The country had just emerged from the 'winter of discontent' which looking back wasn't actually all that bad because our school with its chilly 'al fresco' corridors had a few impromptu days off because of the energy crises. This was an era that witnessed 'green goddesses' power their way through the streets of Glasgow, commandeered by members of the British army.

While I was lucky once more to have a nice wee holiday while the nation voted, my wife was not as fortunate. She was training to be a teacher and as a downtrodden student wasn't afforded that day off. As part of her course she had to visit a secure educational establishment in Bishopbriggs and it was in that dormitory town I spent the afternoon, browsing, waiting for my wife to emerge with new ideas on how to deal with 'classroom teenagers'. On arriving back in Glasgow we went for a drink into the Horseshoe Bar in the centre of town (Guinness for me, G & T for my wife), made our way to back to the leafy west-end where our flat was, voted and waited with some anticipation for the outcome of the 'people's voice'.

And that was the extent of my political activity on that particular birthday. Changed days indeed from birthdays spent as a young boy standing at school gates leafleting voters, running up and down tenement closes knocking on doors and offering transport to those who still had to go and exercise their democratic right. The real excitement of election nights of course is watching the nationwide results flood in and impacting upon the BBC's iconic 'swingometer', this particular of May being no exception.

For this day ultimately overshadowed all previous birthdays, holidays or not. I tried to recall such a momentous birthday.

Was it the one when I arrived home having spent my birthday cash only for my mother to march me back to a clothing shop to exchange my much desired nice silk football club tie for another unwanted less stylish more 'sensible' version which included an elasticated 'snake-belt'?

Maybe it was the one when I got my first bicycle, second hand from a shop on Arbroath Road, a marvellous surprise.

Or was it the one when the returning officer announced that my father been duly elected to represent his newly formed ward then subsequently rose to be the first ever Lord Provost from that part of the city?

No, this birthday was momentous because the British people had democratically introduced something new into the English language. A term that was soon to become instantly recognised, felt and sometimes feared around the globe.

On the 3 May 1979 courtesy of a thumping majority, with the ballot-box acting as midwife, a new word saw the light of day - THATCHERISM.