The Adventures of a Dyslexic Plumber
By Donald McRae
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About this ebook
For those of you who are about to embark on the story of my journey through life, I welcome you one and all.
Donald McRae
Donald McRae is the award-winning author of eleven non-fiction books, which have featured sporting icons, legendary trial lawyers and heart surgeons. He has twice won the prestigious William Hill Sports Book of the Year, for Dark Trade and In Black & White. He is a three-time Interviewer of the Year winner and has also won Sports Feature Writer of the Year on three separate occasions for his work in the Guardian. He lives in Hertfordshire.
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The Adventures of a Dyslexic Plumber - Donald McRae
2016 Donald McRae. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 03/14/2016
ISBN: 978-1-5049-9995-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5049-9996-0 (e)
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
My History
TENEMENT BLOCK 1928 TO 1945
DEATH OF MY MOTHER 1945
FATHER REMARRIED AND FAMILY SPLIT UP 1946
MARRIED TO MARGARET 2PM 4 OCTOBER 1949
SAILED TO AUSTRALIA 7 OCTOBER 1949
DOROTHY ENTERED MY LIFE OCTOBER 7 1949
MARGARET ARRIVED IN SYDNEY JUNE 1950
ALLAN OUR SON WAS BORN 23 FEBRUARY IN SYDNEY 1951
MARGARET AND ALLAN R5ETURNED TO SCOTLAND DECEMBER 1952
NEW ZEALAND 1953
PANAMA 1954
I RETURNED TO PERTH 1955
RHODESIA 1956 TO 1967; MAURITIUS ISLANDS 1961 TO 1962
DIVORCE 1967
ZAMBIA 1967 TO 1990; NORMAN CARR AND ELEPHANTS 1969
ENGLAND 1990 TO 2001
RETURNED TO SCOTLAND FOR MARGARET 2001; MARGARET DIED 2004
RETIRED 2004
DUKE ELLINGTON AND THE S.N.P. 2004
BACK TO ZAMBIA FOR HOLIDAY 2014
NGOZA AND DOROTHY COME TO SCOTLAND FOR HOLIDAY 2014
CHAPTER 1
Tenement block childhood 1928 to 1946
*
For those of you who are about to embark on the story of my journey through life, I welcome you one and all. My name is Donald McRae of the clan McRae; a name of which I’m very proud, as much as I am of my Scottish heritage.
My first great adventure began when I was born and I escaped from the magic box right on the button at twelve noon on the 30th of April in the year of 1928. I had arrived and the wonderful game of life was just beginning for me according to my mother Julia, who was also to be my angel in disguise for many years to come. My mother was a true Roman Catholic Irishwoman from the region of the Whitlow Mountains.
Granny McRae was the presiding midwife at my arrival. Granny McRae, as I was to find out as I got older, was a real Scottish Protestant bigot. These events took place in the kitchen of our tenement block dwelling at 57 Mill Street in the picturesque city of Perth, Scotland.
Later in my life I got to hear my mother’s telling of the magical event, which she said was one of her greatest moments.
Donald, my one and only son,
she said. it was a most beautiful spring day when you were born. The birds were singing away like they always do, but they seemed to be singing and chirping away in synchronization with the Saint Paul’s Church bells that could be heard over the whole town letting all the people know it was 12 noon. Yes, it was our own special orchestral performance. What a welcome it was.
In the eyes and mind of my mother, she now had her very own Messiah; just call me lucky I guess. I was the only boy with three sisters, two of which were older and one younger and, strange as it may seem, we were all two years apart which led me to the conclusion later in life that my father only got a shot on the swings every two years. My mother was a beautiful woman with green eyes and jet black hair, weighing in at about nine stone.
Father was a good-looking man who was always immaculately dressed, as if he’d just stepped out of a tailor’s shop window.
My mother always said my birth was her greatest hour because now she had the son she was so looking forward to. As for my father well, it was fly me to the moon time for him.
All the neighbour’s voices rang out in harmony calling out to each other, It’s a boy; for sure Donald’s scored a goal and Julia’s got her wish at last.
My two sisters Nan and Margaret, well they were in heaven at the idea of having a wee brother. Yes, it was a great day for the McRae bunch.
This then was my welcome into what I was to discover later on in life to be an astonishing, wonderful world, which I was about to share with all mankind irrespective of creed, colour or religion. For me however, the adventure was just beginning.
Our frightening whitewashed close lead to the winding staircase and on the left was Jock Browns one man house plastering outfit which was all enclosed and very probably the only one of its kind in Scotland at that time.
To the left of our close were these beautiful wooden arched double garage doors which to this day still stand. To the contemporary eyes of passing strangers it all looked quite desirable, however, to us tenement block dwellers of yesteryear this was an appalling slum looking somewhat Dickensian, denoting poverty, distress and exploitation. My father was the only person in the community who owned a bicycle.
I’ve long since learned that from the moment we’re born we have no say in any matters because we are destined to follow in the footsteps of our father and those fathers before him, it’s our heritage.
In my case though, I must say that when my mother and father got round to me let there be no doubt, they broke the mould.
I’m more than happy that I came from and was brought up in a religiously mixed marriage house and, truth to tell, it has served me well throughout the years of my life.
Donald my father, now there was a strong man and a true blue nosed Scottish Presbyterian Lodge man. On my mother’s side, well she was an innocent woman yet strong in character with great faith in the Roman Catholic Church.
Quite a mix in anyone’s book, don’t you think? It just goes to show you that the old saying Love conquers everything
might just be true.
As a family we blended well together, each of us wrapped up in the love and devotion that endlessly flowed from our parents creating a very unique and pleasant bond of family atmosphere.
When I recall our extended family, well they were a different blend of tea compared to us. In fact it was a very confusing and mind-boggling experience for us children at the time, and all in the name of religion. I would go so far as to say that the Irish Catholic community at that time was without doubt the front runners in abhorrence. This was something that you have to live through in order to accept that something like this could be true. No matter, just tell me where you can find a better cocktail than a Scottish and Irish mix.
Whenever I would cross paths with someone from the Emerald Isle I‘d be saying To be sure I’m Irish!
and then it was a case of Come into the parlour me boy; there’s a wee welcome waiting for you there.
Sure, that’s the way it was, and when you had the good fortune to come across anyone from Bonnie Scotland the first words you’d be hearing were Come away now; we’d better be having a wee dram, don’t you think?
Make no mistake; I was in the pound seats all the way as I grew up and when I went a wandering.
I’m pretty sure when I made my great escape from the comfort zone via the magic box into the loving, caring arms of my loving mother, it must