#StoryOfOurStreet
The story of a Lenzie street that was home to four generations of one family
Our street was Hawthorn Avenue, Lenzie. For 56 years, from 1948 to 2004, four generations of my family lived in the lower conversion of Dunedin (No.14).The patriarch of our semi-villa was my father Bob Jenkins, a successful businessman and avid golfer. Back in 1901 an Englishman, James Hines, owned and inhabited Dunedin Lodge, as it was then known. James had retired but later became the managing director of a calculating machine company. His English wife, Laura, was a keen gardener who won prizes for her begonias, whilst the couple’s three children attended Lenzie Academy and won prizes for achievements there. In 1899 the eldest, 15-year-old Ethel, won an award for writing. Sadly, she died of leukaemia later that year and is buried in the Old Aisle cemetery in Kirkintilloch.
Two notable Victorian residents were still in Hawthorn Avenue in 1901. John Dickie at Rowallan (No.17) was a shipbroker and contemporary of Sir William Burrell. He was president of Lenzie Horticultural Society and treasurer of Lenzie old parish church. On 4 September 1899 he came home from a pleasant church outing to learn that his greenhouse had been on fire.
Down at Netherby (No.7) lived Matthew Holmes, the locomotive superintendant at Cowlairs. He died in 1903 but many of his engines were still at work 60 years later. In 1901 Matthew employed a young governess for his six-year-old daughter Mary.
Dunedin’s Victorian outhouses were still there in the 1950s and as a budding historian, I was fascinated by the stable, coal cellar, toilet and wash-house. My dad turned them into a three-car, no-door garage which we used into the 21st century.
The villas were very cold; we didn’t have central heating until 1972. Before that it was expensive electric fires and smelly paraffin stoves. By the mid 1950s, every bed in the house had an electric blanket.
Hawthorn Avenue had two hidden assets: Lenzie Moss at the top of the avenue for dogs and picnics, and the Viewfield pitches of Lenzie rugby club behind our house. My friends and I played football and cricket on them to the irritation of the rugby people. I also practised golf while our cat hunted in the long grass.
Dunedin was a magnet for older relatives and by 1958 I was sharing it with my parents, my grandmother Violet Finlayson, her son Geoffrey (later a noted historian) and my grandfather John Jenkins. Four bedrooms, but none for me.Then in March 1961 Grandpa Jenkins left the comfort of Dunedin for the rigours of a Glasgow bedsit. He died in 1962.
I left Dunedin to marry Morny Randall (another accomplished historian) in 1974, leaving the house to my parents. Mum died in 1987 and I returned in 1991 when my marriage broke down and with me came our three children, Kirstin, Roslyn and Christopher. Once again, one bedroom too few. Chris and I had to share until Dad died in 1995.
My second stay at Dunedin lasted thirteen years but by 2004 it was time to go. Ruinous fuel bills, constant repairs and the recurrence of my depression made it a no-brainer. So we did the old girl up and, with the help of lawyer friends George Jackson and the late Robert Rennie, had 50 viewers and six bids. No regrets, it was great while it lasted.