At the time of Susie's birth, Vivienne was nearly fifteen but still in some ways 'a little girl', although not at all immature emotionally. Almost overnight she was adolescent with an interest in, and a questing after different philosophies and ways of life.

From somewhere, God knows where, she acquired an orange ankle-length cloak which she insisted on wearing wherever she went. She was not allowed to wear it to school, but I suspect she took it to school in her bag and wore it on the way home. She never did any homework but did, I believe, concentrate when she was at school as she kept up fairly good marks and I never seriously worried about her education. I just felt, "Viv will do alright. She's so sensible". I know this annoys her but it was - and still - is true.

She dabbled in some of the quasi-religions that were so popular at the time. First of all she tried the Hari Krishna disciples but soon got bored with them. After that she became interested in the Divine Light Mission and that was another story... She became deeply involved with them, going to their Ashram nearly every night. This led to further trouble between Eddie and I. This time he did not tackle Vivienne so directly as he had the older two children, with the result that but every evening I would be subjected to a long tirade about the evils of the Divine Light. Perhaps he genuinely thought she would be sent straight to perdition - I don't know, but night after night I was lectured and blamed for letting her go. She was nearly sixteen and, despite the Divine Light, was very 'sensible', and I had complete faith in her and honestly could not see what all the fuss was about. I felt and still feel, for that matter, that people have a right to their own beliefs. I knew she was going through a stage of experimentation and I could not get seriously worried about it. My attitude did not please Eddie at all and we drifted even further apart.

Partly in order to please Vivienne, who was filled with missionary zeal, and partly to find out for myself what it was really all about, I went along to the Ashram to some of their meetings. The double flat (or Ashram as they called it) was spotlessly clean, the boys and girls happy, smiling and welcoming and the general atmosphere was one of lightness and goodwill. During the meeting, the disciples (or 'Premmies', as they were called) would take it in turn to give a dissertation (or 'satsang') and in-between these talks they would sing songs such as 'Amazing Grace'. Sometimes a devout believer would come and lay a simple offering of fruit or flowers at the foot of a large picture of Guru Maraji their leader, a 15 year old Indian boy, but in their talks they laid great stress on the fact that Guru Maraji made no claim to be a god in any way and had no objection to any of his followers continuing their own religion. He seemed in fact to encourage this but to my knowledge none did so they were so fervent in their desire to follow him. And what made them so devout and so anxious to please and follow him? I think it was the form of meditation which they practised, and this may have been combined with some hypnosis when they went through the initiation ceremony. This I never witnessed nor do I know exactly what it entailed, as all the Premmies were sworn to secrecy, and although gentle but persistent pressure was put on me to be given the 'Knowledge', I felt it better not to do so - it would have been out of sheer curiosity and not genuine desire to follow Guru Maraji.

One of the main criticisms of the Divine Light that Eddie hurled at me was that the disciples were "a bunch of drug addicts". This was not true. Some of them had been involved with drugs certainly, but one of the aims of the Divine Light Mission was to bring "Peace and Harmony to the World", and it was constantly stressed in their talks that they should avoid drugs, alcohol and smoking, so the influence on the young people on that score was entirely to the good. The more able of the followers felt it their duty to help and support those new members who had been, or still were, involved with drugs. Sometimes I felt that the Divine light, at that time anyway, did more for disturbed youngsters, whether drug users or not, than the doctors or other professionals. For many, but by no means all, were disturbed, having problems of one sort or another and in the Ashram I suppose they found a welcome companionship and tolerance. I became the unofficial medical adviser to the Ashram, and most of them became my patients and remained on my list until I retired in 1989.

Ernie came to some of the meetings and was most impressed although, like me, he felt no desire to become a follower of Guru Maraji. He even wrote a poem about one particular occasion when he visited the Ashram.

Unlike some of the other religious sects, the Divine Light did not urge the young people to break away from their family or home. Rather they tried to involve their parents - not very successfully, although I did see several older people, obviously parents, at their meetings. My main criticism of the movement, and it is entirely a material one, is that the followers lost all ambition and the desire to study and get on in the world. They became so relaxed or laid back by all the meditation that they became peaceful to the point of lethargy and inertia.

Another problem, albeit minor, of belonging to the Sect was that of diet - it was quite strict along vegetarian lines. A lot of parents made a big fuss about this as vegetarianism was still thought of as rather cranky and inadequate. I solved this problem with Vivienne and Nick (who by now was also very interested in the movement) by saying, "OK. If you want to follow this diet it's alright by me but I have not time, what with looking after Granny, cooking for Douglas, Eddie and myself, and working, to cook separate meals. I'll provide the ingredients if you tell me what to get but you will do the cooking". Nicky, of course, was still not living at home but was, along with his pal Tom, a frequent visitor during the day when Eddie was not at home. We stuck to that arrangement and it worked very well.

All in all I could not see anything sinister in the Divine Light, ready to pounce on our 'Wee Viv' and drag her away from us down to Hell, but Eddie did. She had certainly lost interest in the Catholic faith and this was enough to annoy her father who, night after night, went on about this and the Divine Light leading her astray. At this time Eddie did not come to Mass with me and the children, but went to a mythical seven o'clock evening mass, and so I did not blame myself for her loss of faith. I do believe you cannot force people to have faith in a particular direction. At 15 years an intelligent child has a mind of its own which he of she should be encouraged to use. Anyway, the pressure from Eddie was becoming intolerable to me and I felt I really would not survive if another child was alienated from the home. And then one evening something happened.

I came home rather earlier than usual. Eddie was not in yet and soon after I arrived Vivienne went out to the Divine Light. I sat with Mother for a while and then took her to bed and settled her down. No sooner had I done this than the telephone rang and it was a call. By now, it was 9.30 and Eddie was not yet home. Anyway I went to the call and finally got home about 10.30. I met Eddie in the hall - he was obviously not in a very good temper, and in an accusatory tone of voice he told me Vivienne was not home yet and what was I going to do about it? I said I would listen for her and went into the bedroom. I lay and listened but eventually phoned the Ashram to see if she was still there. But no, she had left early. Where could she be? I lay all night wondering and worrying. It was so unlike Viv to be late.

I dropped off to sleep once or twice but when morning came I was worn out and frantic with worry. Hurriedly dressing, I stepped out into the hall and who should I see coming down the stairs but Viv? The relief was enormous but so was the grief. She had spoken to her Dad when she came home the night before, so he knew she was in and had deliberately told me otherwise. If he could make me suffer the anxiety that I had that night, I thought it was time I left. I had only continued in the marriage for the sake of the two younger children but now the time had come to make the break. It was a very painful decision all the same, for not everything had been bad in our relationship. I had a huge sense of failure but, once my mind was made up, I started making plans because I was not leaving the children, and Mother had to come too.

                            * * * * *
 

And so I began to plan the great Exodus. My first action was to go and see a lawyer for legal advice. I chose a dynamic character called Freddie Main, who made it all seem very simple. "Find yourself some accommodation and I'll see to the divorce. You have adequate grounds".  Just like that! Finding furnished accommodation did not prove to be difficult. We found a little furnished farmhouse in Bonnyrigg, Lasswade. It was small but would do until we found something more adequate.

And then there was the problem of stage-managing the actual removal, and in this I was greatly helped by the fact that I had the approval of my family - my brother's and sisters' - and also of my children. Harry's organizing skills, which he had learned in the Army, came in very useful here and he called in my other two brothers for assistance. An ambulance was ordered to convey Mother to the new house. Mrs McHale went with her to settle her in, feed her and look after her while we saw to the removals. I made it plain from the start that we were only taking our personal belongings and Granny's furniture. All our own furniture, carpets etc. were to be left for Eddie. I took my books and the bookcase given to me by David but all my other furniture was to be left behind.

And so the fateful day arrived. The cars with Harry and Enid his wife, Donald and Bob's drew up at the front door. There was a huge amount of packing to do as, although Granny only had two rooms, they were large and contained many valuable antiques and countless silver and porcelain ornaments. Soon Enid and I were packing the valuables like mad and, as far as I can remember, only one piece got broken - a Crown Derby plate. Some things were taken to Bonnyrigg but the main furniture was going to Tullibole to be stored till such time as I found a suitable house. There were therefore two vans - one for Tullibole and one for Lasswade. While Enid and I were packing people kept rushing up - "Where does this go?", "Shall I pack this?" - and so it went on. In the middle of this organised chaos the ambulance arrived for Granny so I had to check she had everything she needed - sheets, towels, toilet things, pads, medication, drinking cup, the list seemed endless - and off she went.

Then back into the house to continue packing and directing operations. Nick and Tom had arrived to help; also Ernie who was to drive a self-drive hired van to Bonnyrigg. He was quietly efficient and unobtrusive and even on that day won the approval of the family. A little later our family Doctor arrived to see if Granny was alright and generally give me support. This started me off weeping but I was very grateful to him for his concern. As the first part of our task was nearing completion I remember running about with an old home-made sledge and wondering what to do with it. I decided to leave it.

And as the house began to look forlorn and half-empty, I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach as I thought of how Eddie would feel when he came back to the deserted house. But there was no turning back.

As soon as the various vans and cars arrived outside the little farmhouse in Lasswade somebody said, "Let's stop now and have a rest while we eat our picnic".  My sister-in-law Enid had been very thoughtful and brought some thermos flasks of tea and sandwiches. "What a good idea" was the general opinion but where were the sandwiches? After much discussion and wracking of brains it was decided they must be at the back of the van.

"Well, we might as well unload the van then". "Oh no. I'm too tired. Let's have a rest now. We've been working hard all morning." "What's the point of having a rest if we can't have our sandwiches? We haven't eaten since half past seven and it's now after one".

And so it went on for a good ten minutes but eventually a compromise was reached and a few items removed from the van so that someone could squeeze past and retrieve the precious sandwiches. A cup of tea and some food soothed the frayed nerves and, after a short rest, our belongings were soon out of the vehicles and into the house. And in no time at all, or so it seemed, my brothers departed and I was ensconced in the new house.

I had taken all the children except Douglas into my confidence and had their full approval, even encouragement, for my decision to leave Eddie. I had had a quiet talk with Douglas the night before and warned him that something different was to happen the next day. He shed a few quiet tears but seemed to understand. The day after our flight, on the Sunday, I drove him back to Morningside so that he could play football with his friends as usual. I did not want to disrupt his life one bit more than was necessary. After that he went back to Morningside every weekend to see his friends and play football, and it also gave Eddie the opportunity to keep in touch with him, as I felt it only fair he should have as much access to the children as possible.

As far as Nick and Vivienne were concerned I am sure I did the right thing, and as regards myself? Well, even on that first evening in the little house, although I felt a little sad because of broken dreams yet it was as if an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I looked forward to a new stage of my life.
 

                          * * * * * * *
 

                           CHAPTER 14
 

The Morningside era was now finished, but before going on to other things and other times I would like to say a few words in praise of 200. Although there were indeed many tensions and inherent problems, as a home it cannot have been too bad because why else did the children in turn bring their friends to stay - almost as a place of refuge?

First of all there was Jeanette K. She was a friend of Anne's who attended, like Anne, St Giles School for the Hard of Hearing. She had been living at Dr Barnardo's when we first knew her and would quite often come to our house for the day to keep Anne company. After each visit Anne would be invited there a week or so later for tea, which she thoroughly enjoyed. When Jeanette was old enough to leave Dr Barnardo's she was a bit unsettled and asked Anne if she could come and stay with us. I agreed, provided it was only as a temporary measure and if the Social Work Department approved. They did, and so Jeanette came to stay with us for a few months. I will admit it was not a wholehearted success. I think Jeanette was happy enough but she did nothing to enhance family relationships. She had the unhappy knack of making trouble between Anne and Eddie. As soon as Eddie came in the door she would start talking to him, telling him what Anne had done or what she had not done with little embellishments - enough always to put Anne in the wrong, even if only slightly.

And her other habit was to join me in the kitchen while I was hurriedly trying to prepare the evening meal and start talking about her stomach, with which she was obsessed. She would go on and on about how much it protruded - it was as flat as a pancake - could she have something growing in it? ...what  should she eat?...what should she not eat?... and so on and so on. I don't remember how I answered her - I don't suppose it mattered for I am sure she never listened but, believe me, it was very wearing. Luckily the Social Work Department found her other accommodation after a few months and she left while we were still friends.

Next there was Tom, Nick's friend or Terrible Tom as he came to be known. He never came to stay for any length of time as he had a perfectly good home of his own, but was a very frequent visitor to the house, which for a time was certainly his second home. He was and still is, highly intelligent and very literate, but a drifter, a dreamer, lacking ambition or any aim in life. He and Uncle David would have long discussions about literature and poetry and Granny scolded and spoiled him alternately. He would come to the house looking dirty and hungry and sit talking to Granny, who could still communicate. After a while she would tick him off for not looking after himself: "Look at those jeans, they're disgusting! You had better go through to the kitchen and get some food". His regard and admiration for my Mother was one of his redeeming features.

Eddie did not approve of Tom, because he thought Tom was a bad influence on Nick. He was probably right, although I think they were more truthfully bad for each other. Before Nick left home, Tom would sometimes come sneaking in late at night and, in a whisper, ask Viv to change beds so he could stay the night without Eddie knowing he was in. I was only recently reminded of this for, if I knew of it at the time, I had certainly forgotten. Anyway, for better or for worse, Tom was almost one of the family for many a long year.

                           * * * * *
 

Next came Carrie, a friend of Vivienne's, and like Viv a pupil at Boroughmuir School. Carrie's father was an airline navigator. They had lived in London until her mother died. Sometime after that her Dad found it difficult caring for her as his job entailed him living away from home for days at a time. Eventually, he decided to send Carrie to stay with his Aunt, who lived in Edinburgh. Although she got on well with her great-aunt she began to find it a bit dull and lonely staying with an elderly person - How old the Aunt actually was I don't know, but when you are fifteen anyone over 30 is old, and over 40 practically ancient. Anyway she and Viv approached me and asked if she could come and stay with us. As she was an intelligent sensible girl I agreed and she stayed with us for quite a while, and was still with us when we left Morningside and went to live at Lasswade. She and Viv were great friends but I think she became fed up with Viv's evangelical zeal. Shortly after our move Viv and Nick went off to India on a Pilgrimage to Guru Maraji's Ashram in India and Carrie was left with us i.e. myself, Granny and Douglas. I think she quite enjoyed the peace but one evening quite late we heard a peculiar noise at the door. There was a gentle knock on the back door, followed by what sounded like weeping. I cautiously opened the door and there sitting on the step was a blonde girl of about sixteen.

"Is Carrie there?" she timidly asked. "Yes, you had better come in", and in she came. It transpired she had run away from her home in London and, as she knew where Carrie lived, had found her way to our house. After a cup of tea and some food she began to cheer up and eventually she agreed that I should let the Police know where she was and that I should telehone her Mother, which I duly did. Instead of her mother being relieved that her daughter Mary had turned up safe and sound, she sounded angry and seemed to blame me for Mary running away, saying "I don't want Mary going to any of those all night wild parties which you have in Edinburgh".

"You needn't worry", I retorted in my coldest and most polite voice, "Vivienne isn't in the habit of going to wild parties" - which indeed she wasn't.

In the end it was agreed that Mary could stay with us for a few days until further arrangements could be made. Several days later she went back to London and not one word of thanks did I receive. Shortly afterwards Carrie left us and, if I believe rightly, she and Mary shared a flat for a time.

The last, but by no means least, young person to seek refuge in our house was Dawn. She was and still is a friend of Viv's, and they met through the Divine Light Mission. She was a thin, fragile girl, a little older than Viv, with a most beautiful bone structure. Having been largely brought up in a children's homes, she was now out in the world on her own and not particularly happy with it. She had had a major disappointment when, having passed the necessary examinations for entrance to the Royal Academy of Dancing, she was turned down for a student grant. Being unable to support herself during her studies and with no one to back her up she had had to give up any idea of a dancing career. This had left her feeling very disappointed and frustrated. Like many others, she found companionship and comfort in the Divine Light and when Vivienne heard she was unhappy in her present accommodation and was looking for somewhere to stay, she said: "Why don't you come and stay with us?" And this is what she did, although we had left Morningside by this time.

Dawn became my third daughter in everything but genetic fact and so I will say no more about her just now but include her in my story as I go along.

                           * * * * *
 

Here I was in the little farmhouse with Granny, Nick, Viv, Carrie, Douglas but no Toro. Pets were not allowed because the house was adjacent to a chicken farm. What did we do with our dog? Well, Ernie took him to keep him company in his lonely caravan and a great friend and comfort he found him. Mrs McHale still came out every day and Nick, being unemployed, was at home to help with Granny and bake delicious wholemeal bread. It was a happy household and I relaxed in the freedom from tension. Although out of town, it was a straight run into the surgery and so running the practice was no more difficult than usual.

We had not been there long when Nick and Viv announced they wanted to go to India to a big gathering at Guru Maraji's Ashram in Jardwar, north of Delhi. There were quite a few problems to overcome - not least where were they to get the money and what about Viv's 'O' levels, which she was due to sit in the Spring? The excitement was intense and they were carried along on a wave of enthusiasm as the day for departure drew nearer. The money appeared as from an answer to prayers - in fact from other members of the Divine Light. Viv got permission for four weeks absence from school, passports were obtained, tickets bought (including return tickets I hasten to add), and every evening was spent sitting in front of the fire, frantically sewing long white skirts and shirts which were the recommended apparel for the journey.

And was I apprehensive at the thought of Vivienne, aged 15, going off to India on her own? Well, the answer is a definite No. Not at all. She wasn't on her own - her elder brother Nick was with her and, for all his faults, was devoted to his sister, and I knew he would let no harm befall her. Also they were going as part of a dedicated group and not on the Hippy Trail like so many youngsters of the day. Thirdly there was Viv herself. I knew I could trust her to take care and look after herself.

Ernie and I were nearly as excited as they were when we waved goodbye and three weeks later on their return there were long hours of talking and laughing, as we listened to the vivid descriptions of all they had seen and done. For both it was their first journey by plane, and I will never forget Nick's excitement as he described the beauty of the clouds and thecolours he had seen from the plane. Also they had enjoyed the meetings at the Ashram, where they had had to participate and cooperate with others in the rather spartan living conditions of the camp. And outside the Ashram they had seen the true poverty of the Indians, poverty they had never imagined possible, which had shocked them and helped them to realise how lucky most of us are, living in our part of the world. Once the excitement died down they went off to bed and slept only as the young and exhausted can.

From all points of view the journey to India was considered a great success, providing pleasure, education and, who knows, some form of 'spiritual enlightenment'. I never for one moment regretted allowing them to go. I know some of my contemporaries were a trifle shocked at the idea of a fifteen-year old travelling half way round the world without her parents but I felt, provided the circumstances were right - and they were - it could only broaden her mind and give her a wider perspective on life.
After a day to recover Vivienne was back to school and within a few weeks sat her 'O' levels, which she passed with satisfactory results.

                           * * * * *
 

Another episode of interest which occurred when we were at Bonnyrigg was the saga of the blackberries. As I said earlier, Ernie was living in a caravan near Dalkeith and still unemployed, and one day while taking Toro for a walk he came across a large bank of brambles. He was wearing a tweed hat which he soon filled with plump and juicy blackberries. He went back to the caravan to find another container which he in turn filled, and yet another. In the evening he brought them along to the farmhouse I was delighted and said, "Oh, How lovely. I'll make some bramble and apple jam". The next evening he again presented me with several more pounds of brambles. "Super", says I, "I'll make some bramble jelly".  The next evening again - several pounds of brambles. "Great! - I'll make some blackberry ice cream", which I did and it was truly delicious.

The weekend came and, determined not to waste the God-given harvest, he roped Vivienne and I into helping to pick the big fat berries. We picked pounds and pounds and when I shut my eyes all I could see were bunches of blackberries. I went to bed seeing blackberries and more blackberries, wondering what on earth we were going to do with the blessed things. Suddenly, in the middle of the night I had an inspiration - we would make blackberry wine.

The next day we searched around town for a large plastic bucket with a lid. Eventually we found one and soon the first fermentation was underway. The wine (when finally tasted after about a year) was a great success - a deep clear red, slightly sparkling, full bodied, slightly fruity, not too dry - in short it was delicious. So much so that we decided to make some more the next year and for a few years to come, but we were never quite so successful again.

Besides picking blackberries, Ernie kept himself busy writing poetry, sometimes driving me round on my calls, helping with the shopping and, of course, writing applications for jobs. He tried different agencies, looked in all the papers - all the usual things. One day I was reading the Scotsman  when I saw a post as Office Manager for Chubb Lock and Safe advertised. Immediately I said to myself: "That is the job for Ernie. He'll get this one".

I could hardly wait to show him the advertisement and, as soon as I could I pointed it out to him. He wrote an application straightaway and we posted the letter that day. In a few days time he had a reply - could he come for an interview. Trying hard not to be too hopeful (as he had had so many previous disappointments), and at the same time endeavouring to appear self-confident, off he went to his appointment. An hour later out he came with a tentative smile on his face. "How did you get on?" I asked. "Very well, I think, but there's nothing settled yet. There is going to be a second round of interviews. I think I'll be short-listed though. I liked the interviewer very well and he seemed to like me. We'll just have to wait and see."

The next few days seemed to drag as we waited impatiently for another letter. After what seemed like a month of Sundays, but in fact was less than a week, the second letter came. Could he come for a further interview the following day? Could he? You bet he could. Looking extremely smart in one of his many tailor-made suits (made, I hasten to add, in his successful London days) and a splendid bow-tie - he set off once again for the offices of Chubb's Lock & Safe.

I was back home in Lasswade, standing in the kitchen stirring something, when the door burst open and there stood Ernie - arms wide open. "I've got the job!" He swung me round in one of his big bear hugs, that I miss so much now he is gone.

Ernie's long days of frustration and inactivity were over. They had indeed been long and difficult to bear but his time at the caravan had not been wasted. He read a lot and, above all, found time to think, which in turn inspired him to write poetry - some light-hearted verses, but other poems in a deeper vein. All in all I would say his period of unemployment in the caravan was a humbling, but also a life-enriching, experience. He was a man of great inner resources and, in times of trial, could draw on these and come out the better man at the end. He also enjoyed listening to the young people discussing religion, philosophy and politics. Although his views were often radically different from theirs he would listen carefully to what they were saying, and if his knowledge of the subject matter was scanty he would read up about it and bring up the subject again at the next opportunity. Although he was never converted to the Divine Light, or indeed to Marxism, in later years he did learn from these discussions and certainly developed a more tolerant and broader outlook on life.

Apart from the loneliness, living in the caravan had other problems as well. For instance there was the episode of the mice. It occurred one winter's weekend after Ernie had been working at Chubb for several months. He came to stay with us every Saturday night and, on this particular Sunday, we had been invited to lunch with his boss, Ian Radcliffe, at Haddington. It had been raining hard most of the weekend and when I drove him back on Sunday evening we found the caravan surrounded by water. We waded through the water and climbed into the caravan. Ernie took off his jacket before starting to light the solid fuel stove. I picked up his jacket and went to hang it in the wardrobe. As I opened the door I thought, "Funny! What's happened to his grey suit?" There seemed to be fluff sticking to the shoulder. And then I had a closer look. The shoulder padding was loose and the material nibbled away. I looked at the next jacket and the next. At least three jackets had been ruined. Three jackets of three Saville Row tailored suits! I mourned one in particular - a beautiful grey light weight silk suit, in which he looked particularly smart when worn with one of his splendid bow-ties. But where were the culprits? We hunted in every nook and cranny before eventually finding a beautifully constructed nest at the back of his underwear drawer. A little round nest made of silk and wool from Saville Row. I hope the mice appreciated the quality of the material!

Another problem was keeping warm without suffocating and condensation. One Saturday I arrived at the caravan about midday, after morning surgery. I knocked - there was no reply, so I went in. The place was like an oven and there was Ernie lying flat out on the couch, fast asleep. I had great difficulty waking him and only got a grunt after shaking him several times. I then realised he was probably suffering from early carbon monoxide poisoning and hastily opened the door and windows wide. I was just beginning to get really anxious when he came round with a big smile.

"Hello Darling, I am glad to see you. I thought you were never coming. Why? What is the matter? You look anxious."

And then I gave him a little lecture about leaving some ventilation open when he stoked up the fire but I couldn't  help laughing with relief, so the lecture wasn't very stern.
 

                           * * * * *
 

                           CHAPPER 15
 

In the Spring of 1973 we moved from Lasswade to a council flat in the newly built and much maligned area of Westerhailes. This move, I found quite traumatic. I had been happy in Lasswade and liked the village atmosphere. Even driving into work in the morning and seeing the sunrise was a pleasure, and the thought of moving back into town and having to drive through the uninteresting area of Sighthill every day distressed me unduly. I had a silent weep to myself but once the decision was made, I set to organising the removal, which went off smoothly and uneventfully.

Our first problem was to find a doctor for Mother and indeed for all of us. This was to prove more difficult than I could have believed possible. I obtained a list of local practices from the Health Board and duly went to one of them and handed in our cards. I was asked to call back the next day and when I did, was told they would not accept us because Mother was so disabled. The next practice accepted us initially, but after a couple of days I received a phone call to say that the district nurse refused to visit Mother as we lived on the wrong side of the road, and could I come and collect our cards! The third practice refused us because of Mother's age and severe disabilities - Mother who never complained and seldom required a visit from the doctor. The fourth application proved lucky but by this time I was feeling slightly disillusioned with my medical colleagues, all except our former family doctor, Dr Johnstone, who was the only person thing I missed when we left Morningside.

In the house there was a living room, three bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom, and the sleeping arrangements were thus: Mother and I in one bedroom, Viv and Dawn in the second, and Doug and Nick in the third. The main problem we found, apart from the generally cramped conditions, was the thinness of the walls and lack of sound-proofing, especially as Douglas was very keen on Pop Music and would have played it all day long at very high volume if allowed to do so. "Douglas, turn that record player down" was often the first thing I said as I entered the house. He would do so but gradually the volume would increase again, and "Douglas, turn that record player down, for Goodness Sake" would ring out many times during the course of an evening - if not from me then from other members of the family whose mode of address was frequently not nearly so polite!

Dawn and Nicolas were at this time both unemployed and so were available to help in caring for poor Granny, who by now was almost totally disabled. She could literally hardly move a muscle and had to be strapped into her wheelchair, otherwise she would have slipped out and onto the floor. This is where Nicolas came in particuarly useful as he was able to lift her up gently and firmly without hurting her. He would also help to feed her, as by now she had no movement in her arms and also had difficulty swallowing. It was a long and sometimes messy business spoon-feeding her. She took her liquids through a plastic tube but even that was becoming difficult. Her speech was almost non-existent, and I remember one heart-rending occasion when Ernie, Dawn and I were sitting with her. Ernie was doing the Scotsman crossword with her. He would read out the clue and suggest answers. If she agreed she would manage a little nod or other sign of agreement. Suddenly she became very agitated and was obviously trying to tell us something.

"Is it the crossword?" A little grunt and shake of the head. "Do you have a pain?" Another little grunt and headshake. "Are you thirsty?" Again a grunt and a sign of impatience. By now she was struggling and trying to lift her arm but was unable to do so. I realised it was something to do with her face and suddenly it dawned on me - she had an itchy nose! I gave it a good rub with a tissue and she relaxed and contiuned with the crossword, but as Dawn and I looked at each other we found it hard to hold back the tears.

Although Mother's inability to speak was almost total, I always felt her mind was still alert and as active as ever, and one evening something happened to prove that this was indeed the true state of affairs.

It was around ten o'clock at night and I was in the bedroom. I had just finished turning Mother, changing her pads and generally making her comfortable. I went over to the dressing table to look out her tablets and was standing with my back to her bed, when suddenly a voice came from the bed, loud and clear: "Is Vivienne back from her meeting yet?". "No", I said, trying not to sound too excited, "but she shouldn't be long". "Is Dawn with her?" "Yes, they went out together". "Do they go to the Divine Light every evening?" "Not every evening, but most days". "Oh well, it won't do them any harm. Has Douglas gone to bed yet? I don't hear his record player". "No, but he is getting ready. I hope his music doesn't annoy you." "No. Not as long as it doesn't go on too long. Will Nick be late tonight? I didn't hear where he was going". "I'm not sure when he will be in. He didn't say where he was off to". And so it went on for twenty minutes, with Mother firing questions at me about every member of the family in turn and myself answering the questions as rapidly as possible. Each question was relevant and showed she was up-to-date and understood everything that was going on around her and even, through the radio, the world in general. Suddenly after twenty wonderful minutes, the silence came down again, never to be broken.
                             * * * * *

We had been living at Westerhailes for about five months when I heard I had been allocated an unfurnished house by Links Housing Association in the Barntongate area. We were all delighted, as this time the move would be permanent - to a small modern bungalow with a sunny living room and a patio door which opened straight into the garden. Access to the main bedroom was through the sitting room, which I thought would be very suitable for Mother as she would not feel isolated when in bed. All in all it seemed very suitable and I looked forward to the move. Because I was feeling tired and it would be quite an upheaval, bringing all Mother's possessions back from Tullibole, it was decided to admit Mother to the Royal Infirmary for two weeks while we moved. Her name had been on the waiting list for holiday relief for years but I had never taken advantage of it.

Accordingly, a couple of days before our move in December 1973 an ambulance came for Mother. Mrs McHale went with Mother in the ambulance and I met them at the Infirmary. I explained to Mother over and over again that she was only to be away for two weeks - to give us time to make the place comfortable, to put out all ornaments, hang the pictures etc. There was no response. I only hope she understood. I think she did.

That afternoon we all visited her and after the children had left I brought out Dickens' A Christmas Carol, a favourite of hers, and started to read. And as I read, the tears rolled silently down her cheeks. I wiped the tears, held her hand and continued quietly to read. I visited her every day, mostly in the evenings, and the routine was the same. I held her hand and read a little more of A Christmas Carol but she was by now almost totally unresponsive. I would also spoonfeed her a little flavoured yogurt or ice cream, as did Mrs McHale in the afternoons. The staff didn't seem to understand that she was unable to move a muscle and had been like that for a very long time. They would put food down beside her and expect her to feed herself. I don't think they had had anyone straight from home who was so totally disabled.

On one of these evenings I felt a little angry. There were five or six old ladies in the ward, all severely disabled. Some may have been demented as well - I really don't know, but they were all very quiet, if not asleep. In the middle of the ward there was a table on which sat a group of nurses; swinging their legs and talking and giggling in loud voices and, now and then, bursting into a raucous song. It was very distracting and I could not help wondering how many of the old ladies were trapped, like Mother, in their own bodies - able to hear and understand but unable to communicate - in this case to protest at the unnecessary noise.

Meanwhile the move took place with the minimum of fuss and trauma. The children were so delighted with the little bit of extra space that Viv and Dawn launched into some ballet steps in the larger living room. Because of all the willing helpers we were soon unpacked and everything shipshape. So much so that one day Mrs McHale said, "Let's go to the hospital and bring Granny home".

I considered it, but the thought of another week's unbroken sleep was too tempting. Getting up twice a night for four years is very wearing and, unfortunately, I am not one of those people who can easily get back to sleep once disturbed.  "No", I said, somewhat reluctantly, "we'll leave her till next week as we arranged".