Mary Brooksbank

Hi Tina. Like you, I remember the metal gates and barbed wire used to prevent anyone from Linlathen to cross the viaduct from Fountainbleu Drive to the wilderness that was Fintry, although my elder siblings found them little deterrent when they crossed from Linlathen to make a few bob picking spuds on McLean's farm. Happy days, they lied. A heroine of mine, Mary Brooksbank, called such times the good old bad old days, and I think she was spot on. She would arrive unannounced at the top of our street, Riddell Terrace, sing two or three songs and then move on. I was never less than completely captivated, and dreamed endlessly of her singing. In later years, when we became like-minded friends, I would drive up from Birmingham, where I lived for 25 years, and visit her to enjoy a half hour's catchup.