Read in full the submission of our Creative Writing Competition participant, S. Mason.
Recalling soaked boots, icy cold fingers and the swelling of the Esk, S. Mason shares her memories of a storm that nearly swept her off her feet on the way to school on a fierce 1950s morning.
You can read the winners announcement here, as well as a full list of all submissions published.
Journey to School
by S. Mason
With trepidation, I left for school and started walking, bracing myself (...) As I made my way down Woodburn Avenue, hanging onto fences for support, I gasped for air as the wind whipped it from my lungs.
I have no recollection of the exact year of that stormy morning but I would be about 9 years old. However, the events are vivid to this day.
In the 1950s I lived at the top of Woodburn which was then known as Peaseflats and had started Croft Street School in 1954. The school would be renamed Kings’ Park Primary. We would walk every morning from our homes to school, back at lunchtime and again after lessons finished. This would probably account for our “bag o’ bones” appearance.
This particular morning, we awakened to the wind howling around the houses, picking up debris and objects and throwing them about with such ferocity that windows were smashed. With trepidation, I left for school and started walking, bracing myself against the relentless buffeting of the wind when icy rain started to come down in slanting sheets. The rain stung my face and eyes like a thousand needles. As I made my way down Woodburn Avenue, hanging onto fences for support, I gasped for air as the wind whipped it from my lungs.
Holding on to the metal spikes with wet and frozen fingers I inched my way slowly across, trying not to look at the brown swollen South Esk below and blotting out the roar of a river in spate.
I came to the bridge at Newmills Road as the wind seems to reach a crescendo. Holding on to the metal spikes with wet and frozen fingers I inched my way slowly across, trying not to look at the brown swollen South Esk below and blotting out the roar of a river in spate. The rain had began to fill up my wellingtons and my feet were now wet and freezing.
I reached London Road repeating a mantra inside my head “Keep going – not far now.” Turning left, McCluskeys’ dairy came into view through the sleeting rain. I heard the lowing of the cows – not long now! As I passed the byres, the cows stared at me, ruminating with wide fear filled eyes. But they were warm and dry.
My body ached with exertion as I staggered into school not able to make another step. I don’t remember who picked me up but I found myself wrapped in a blanket and a lady pouring water from my wellingtons. A coal fire burned, the yellow orange flames leaping wildly, sending out heat which bathed my body in a delicious warmth. Hot tea was placed into my hands which aided the thawing out. I slept.
Later when the storm had abated, I walked back up to Woodburn for lunch.
