Hippy Kids

Karen Ray

We put our shoes in our pockets. I think if we had been proper hippies we would have left them behind or given them to a poor person. We were taking a big risk, what with dog poo and veruccas, but not even the certain telling off when we got back was going to stop us. We weren't in California either - at least I didn't think St Andrews was in California. But it didn't matter - it was sunny, we were all laughing and I met with nothing but love from everyone I met.

In the shop I had chosen a rather squat shaped bell. It was made of brass and hung round my neck on a leather thong. The lady in the shop told me it made me look like Mia Farrow. I had no idea who she was, but I was pleased. I pretended that my bell was the nicer, but I had second choice this time and so immediately wanted the one she chose. Hers was a more elegant, thinner one; probably better suited to her.

I preferred shopping with my dad; he didn't have ideas on what I looked lovely in, but just let me get on with it. Of course he wasn't usually around to shop; he was always at work in the shipyards or at Rangers. He would come in after we had gone to bed or we had to sneak around after school because he was asleep.

When he was there we had a great time. He would take us to Paisley baths and have swimming races or to Rouken Glen where we would collect tadpoles or conkers. We travelled on embroidered cushions in the back of his grey mini van. When he wasn't there it was all shopping and buses, and getting off when I felt sick and dark, cold mornings and school.

Just walking wasn't enough to make the bells ring and jumping up and down tired us out, so we skipped down the hill, holding hands and singing 'If You're Going to San Francisco'. It wasn't easy to get the bells to ring in time to our singing, but as we were hopelessly out of tune, I don't suppose it mattered.

We were heading downhill back towards the beach where mum would be waiting for us with our picnic lunch and normal life. No sweeties until we had finished our sandwiches, don't pat strange dogs, have you done a number two today?

But we never got told off. He'd bought her a bell to wear as well and when she put it on she joined in the singing and danced around the travelling rug with dad. Later on she told us about the olden days when she used to go and see Frankie Vaughan at the Barrowland. Dad says she threw her knickers at him. That's the best thing about my dad, he makes up funny stories.