See you, Jimmy

WARNING: the following story is about 1950s yoof culture. So it may involve angst-ridden teens and leather-clad louts riding Harleydavidson bikes whilst sporting James Dean haircuts.

No, wait. The tale comes from Amy Kinnaird, who was brought up in Ochiltree, where folks weren’t so keen on surly Jimmy Dean.

Instead Amy and her friend Mary celebrated their blossoming adulthood by enrolling in evening cookery classes at Ayr Academy. Their wild revelries would culminate with the girls visiting a nearby Italian café to order a hot orange and a Kit Kat.

“We felt very grown-up and daring,” chuckles Amy.