The Downies of Downfield.

After stopping for a refreshment in Gorgie on Sunday my brother quizzes me on where we were born.

We wander down Downfield Place and I point out to him the first floor flat at Number 12 where we'd lived until 1952.

An old gent is peering out of the window above our old residence and when my brother asks him how long he's lived there it transpires that he moved into the flat in 1951.

“Did you know the Downies who lived below you”

“Yes” came the surprising reply. “My name is Mr. Ogilvie, I'm just looking out for my daughter. She's a Jambo you know. Out following the bus. Oh, and here she comes.”

We stop the approaching woman, in her early fifties and decked out in full Jambo regalia. She's as gobsmacked as we are, especially when I tell her my brother's come all the way from Africa for the Final.

Pleasantries exchanged we wander back up to Gorgie Road still shaking our heads in disbelief.

Twelve lo.jpg

We've got our number.

Mr Ogilvie.jpg

Mr Ogilvie spots his old (young) ex-neighbours.


 The boy comes home.


One Response to “The Downies of Downfield.”

  1. rockwatching Says:

    Its a small world, bizzarre that I should find your story so amusing but I do. Mick

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