Paisley food Festival

Introducing another story from Paisley’s past. (Remember it could be your story, it can be about anything as long as its relevance is about Paisley).

This is the second letter written by Eileen Reid (Fraser) who is originally from Paisley but is now in Canada. I look forward to your comments, maybe your name could be on this page??? Contact me with your ideas.

Hello there readers, thought it was about time for a wee jog down Paisley memory lane again. Since my last story I have been reminded of places people and treasures that need a finding. My best and most interesting stories are that of the children, good patter, friends, dancing and style of my younger (wilder) days. I can honestly say nowhere I have traveled have I seen the brilliant suits and shine of shoes that I saw on a Sat or Fri night on the fellas from Paisley, oh and let’s not forget that walk, remember the hand in the pockets stride, and the gallas look as they stood leaning against the Town Hall wall eyeing up all the lassies with their lacquered hair, seamed tights, and chewing gum going at ninety. The music was brilliant, Commodores, Stevie Wonder, Abba, David Bowie, Bryan Ferry, Sweet, Nazareth, the music is forever.
Everyone danced till their feet were sore, usually we all did the same step and hoped some guy would tap you on the shoulder or give you a wee nod that meant ‘lets dance’. After it ended, the night was still young at the hamburger stand on Gilmour St, you were guaranteed a roll and sausage and a good laugh waiting at the forever line at the Taxi rank. Sunday morns when you would all meet at Cardosi’s fish and chip shop, and talk about who was affronted, who looked a mess and god forbid who didn’t get a lumber.

Sundays was great eating day the brisket from Watson’s, new potatoes and prayers that your Yorkshire pudding would turn out. People were always full of love on a Sunday I remember that, it was a genuine day for real friends and family. Paisley always has a proper Sunday and I miss that. Monday was back at the mills, hospitals, offices or cafes where we all worked, knowing though that another great weekend was coming up gave ya the push, and that lovely pay poke on a Friday.
Wee Dougie was always there with your daily papers at the Cross before and after your shift and the wulk man was never far away from him. For a real wee break with the weans, a trip to Butlin’s was a thrill, and a day at Storie Street baths they loved, and if you were skint during the week 2 pence for the penny tray put a smile on any child’s face.

Life seemed more easy those days or maybe they were just different, I like to continue with my stories as they are my life and experiences of joy in Paisley.

Eileen Reid.