Back at Lawside I found myself at the centre of a minor controversy

Quite often I’d share this down time with my classmate Alice Tully, who slowly became my closest confidante and the sister I’d never had. We regularly ended up eating at each other’s house and we’d go from there to studying together, since we shared the majority of our subjects that year.

Despite the obvious opportunity for romance to blossom, it never happened and we simply matured into best friends. Mum was really disappointed at this turn of events and would have had it otherwise, but as Alice was already being courted by my mate Colin, the situation didn’t lend itself to me making a move.

I kept my romantic intentions for other girls at Lawside, like Mary Mooney and Ann Dellaquaglia.

At the hundredth time of asking, June Barclay’s defence finally crumbled and she agreed to go out to the cinema with me.

I was ecstatic and made a particular effort to dress as smartly as possible, shampoo and brush my long hair, hide any spots I still had underneath some of mum’s face powder and use mouthwash after brushing my teeth for half an hour.

I needn’t have bothered. The date went well but when I moved in for a snog, she backed off and let me know that her heart belonged to another boy from school.

Heart cracked

My own heart cracked right down the middle, but June was genuinely kind to me and let me down as gently as she possibly could. It was OK I suppose.

The rest of the spring and early summer of 1970 was pretty much study, study, study, and soon the Higher exams were over and we could relax again.

At the suggestion of a friend, Mick Garty, a group of us started going up to Blairgowrie on a Saturday afternoon, pitching a tent on the near bank of the River Ericht up by Cargill’s Leap, then spending the evening in town.

This was usually around the Wellmeadow, in the Cartwheel and the Vic pubs, getting merry and chatting up the local girls.

We’d start the evening with a few games of darts to accompany our pints of Harp Lager, and move on later to the Dreadnought where the jukebox created a musical ambiance more suitable for our intentions. We fell in love with a different girl every week, got chased away by jealous brothers and boyfriends every other week, and sometimes we even made it back to the tent to sleep, if we could navigate the pitch black banks of the Ericht with too much lager in us.

When the Higher results came out that August, I had passed all five, with “A” in French and Maths, “B” in English and German and “C” in Latin. This gave me the group of grades I needed to back up my application to the four universities I’d selected.

York, Warwick and Edinburgh all wanted me, which was brilliant, but when the University of St Andrews followed suit and accepted me to study French Language and Literature, there was really no contest. I proudly accepted their offer of an unconditional place on the course, to start in September 1971.

With a place at university tied up, I knew my sixth and last year at school was going to be fun, and include as little studying as possible. And so it turned out.

Buzzing

As I entered my final year at Lawside for my Certificate in Sixth Year Studies, the world was buzzing with the Vietnam War, Apollo 13, and Brazil’s triumph in the Mexico World Cup. For me, however, the most important thing was that John, Paul, George and Ringo would never play together again.

That World Cup in Mexico had been special too. The Brazilians moved towards the title displaying a brand of football that we’d frankly never seen before. I watched them on TV take the game to a level of artistry that was quite beautiful.

Pele, the world’s greatest player, blew us away with his attempt from the halfway line and his “dummy” against Uruguay. Even today there are many among us who claim that the Brazil team which won the World Cup in 1970 was the best football team of all time.

But back at Lawside I found myself at the centre of a minor controversy. Soon after first term started, Mr Adams and his assistants put together a list of those pupils they felt should become prefects. Given my record at school, my name was automatically added to the list for St Paul’s house, but when I went to collect my badge, Mr Chaplain made it clear that it wasn’t available until I’d had a haircut.

Now at that time my hair was long and straight, parted to one side and down to my shoulders, like the style of so many current rock stars. As much to my own surprise as to his, I told him that getting a haircut wasn’t an option. Heavens above, I’d come a long way from the ever-so cooperative and compliant wee Georgie, hadn’t I?

I wanted things to happen my way now, using my rules. So, yes, I’ll be a prefect, but the hair stays. Chappy listened then sent me away – without a badge and without the title. No haircut, no prefect.

If the authorities at Lawside felt uncomfortable about one of their top pupils not having the title of prefect, they didn’t show it and for the following two or three weeks the subject was never broached.

This left me with no permission to use the prefects’ room. Of course, it was my hair that eventually conceded defeat, although I kept it well over my ears to retain a semblance of dignity.

Freedom of choice

A sixth year of study at school was meant to prepare you for future study at university level, mixing formal classes in advanced topics with greater freedom of choice and private study time, plus regular visits to outside institutions.

Visiting lectures and seminars with pupils from other schools made up my study routine, supplemented by tapes in the language laboratory.

What actually happened was that, with my unconditional offer from the University of St Andrews, I did as little as I possibly could, arriving late, leaving early, missing classes, taking days off and generally skiving.

The death of Jimi Hendrix seemed more important than a dissertation on the works of Thomas Hardy. Perusing Melody Maker and New Musical Express took up far too much of my time to let me finish homework. And then the death-knoll of study for CSYS was sounded when some of us got together and formed a band.

This was the next natural step after being together for hours, learning the chord sequences for hundreds of songs and practising vocal harmonies.

My pal Dougie Reid and I led the way with guitars and vocals, while we were joined by John Duncan on keyboards.

(More tomorrow.)