LAST month, I delved into the memory box about the time in my life when I was starting my new chapter in Edinburgh. The move there was filled with nervousness and excitement, in equal measure, but now it was about getting settled.
Through a friend of a friend—who had put in a good word for me—I managed to land myself into some decent digs in the north of the city. Looking back, it was kinda mad. I mean I had agreed to move into a place that I hadn’t even seen so much of a photo of and Orla—owner of the flat—was okay with me moving in, despite barely knowing me.
The good news was that that gaff was quality. Well-kept buildings with nice wee gardens, a kids playground that hadn’t fallen victim to graffiti and broken beer bottles with a lovely park area that had a bridged lake just around the back.
I got the feeling that most of the residents in these houses were quite well-to-do. Come to think of it, I even remember being able to watch one of the neighbours’ TV sets from our living room because his was that big.
Powederhall also had a bit of a fun history to it too. It was once a horse-racing track that it had also hosted a number of football matches and it had also once been the home of both the city’s two main football clubs—Hearts and Hibernian.
First school
My first proper teaching post was at Firrhill High School, which was located on the far side of the city from where I was. I quickly had to learn off the timetable for the number 27 bus that I’d board at Cannonmills before embarking through the heart of the city centre, before heading on out towards Oxgangs.
This is the school I still have the most fond memories of to this day. Their staff were the most welcoming, encouraging and supportive bunch you could ever wish to meet.
Every Monday evening, after work, we’d squeeze into cars and make our way to the Corn Exchange—a sports bar venue that had a spattering of indoor football pitches. This was an ideal way to keep in touch with playing football, keep some degree of fitness up and make some new pals along the way.
One memory that stands out for me on those pitches comes from a match where I went in goal wearing a Celtic top and my teammate—a Rangers one—scored the most spectacular header you could ever wish to see. The only problem was it was an own goal against me. His own teammate!
“Can yis two naw put yer differences aside just for this match,” someone shouted. It was all in good fun. As it should be.
As mentioned in my last column, Ian was officially my mentor in the English department. In truth, he was so much more. He got me involved in these social circles and had also encouraged me to take up a coaching role with the school’s under 15s team, which I agreed to. Even if the games were on Saturdays.
On a more serious note for a second, October 2010—just six weeks into my first official teaching role—was not an easy time. I knew my dad’s health was in great decline back home and one night after football, I headed into the changing room and noticed a large number of missed calls on my phone. I knew what they were phoning about.
The staff at Firrhill couldn’t have been supportive in my absence. And when I eventually arrived back to the staff room, they welcomed me with open arms, playful cheers and words of continuing support. Even some of my troublesome and mischievous third and fourth year classes started to behave better. I can never thank them enough for that.
Outside the classroom
When I first arrived, the city was in full swing with the sights and sounds of the Fringe Festival. Street performers, comedy shows and parties that went on to the wee hours on every corner. Tourists were paying fortunes to come and see this and, to be honest, I felt quite lucky to paying normal rent prices compared to them.
I befriended a proud local called Jim over at the local pub—MacLachlann’s. Although a fair few years older than me, Jim was a great laugh and a great pal. “I’m no fae Edinburgh, I’m fae Leith,” he’d often remind me. A loyal Hibs fan, I learned more about the city’s history from him than any book could ever teach me.
He’d show me ticket stubs he had from when bands like U2 had played at the Theatre Royal before making it big. He’d talk about the parts of Leith that would appear in the writings of Irvine Welsh which would later be made popularised by films such as Filth and Trainspotting. It made it easier for me to understand things that way.
Most of my weekends usually involved trips over to Glasgow to see Celtic and their famous 3-0 victory over Rangers in February 2011 remains the most spectacular atmosphere I’ve ever been a part of. When I arrived back to my flat, after the game, I still had the ringing of I Just Can’t Get Enough buzzing through my ears.
As alluded to earlier, I took charge of the school’s under-15s team and we played against schools from all across Edinburgh. This inadvertently provided with ample opportunity to see so many other parts of the city which would’ve otherwise remained unknown to me.
I’d no car at the time so thank God for Mr Gilloway, one of the player’s dads who was big time involved in local football, who’d aways give me a lift and, to his great credit, always offered me advice on coaching matters. There was one iconic moment with those group of kids which I’ll never forget.
After a rocky start to the season, our fortunes started to turn. We picked up some wins here and there and things were going good, but we still had a fair few games to go.
Unfortunately, there had been an incident in the school where another student angrily called me a ‘Dirty Fenian so-and-so.’ Not a nice thing to be called.
Unknown to me though, the lads on the team had hatched a plan to show solidarity with their gaffer. During one of our games, ‘wee Liam’ scored a goal for us and in his celebration, he lifted his jersey up and showed that he was wearing a green Republic of Ireland top. He and his pals pointed to it and they all gave me a thumbs up.
A subtle yet heartwarming sign of the companionship that we all had. They would’ve known about my dad’s passing earlier in the school year and I like to think they were willing to protect me from any needless bigoted jibe. We won all our games, bar one, from January until the end of the season and finished a very respectable third in the city.
Haste ye back
I would leave the school in late June 2011. I had successfully passed my induction year as a teacher and became a fully-fledged one. Sometimes this particular academic year is overshadowed by dad’s passing, but in other ways, I was glad that Ian told me he was proud of me. And yes, the players all chipped in their pocket money to buy my a Scotland jersey with my name on the back. It still hangs proudly in my home now.
This may have been the end of my time at Firrhill High and the plush surroundings of the Powderhall estate, but it certainly wasn’t the end of my time in Edinburgh. In some ways, it was only just the beginning. A few months later, heading into 2012, it was time to pull out the football boots again for a Scottish GAA club. It was time for a whole new ball game.
Follow Johnny Foley on Twitter: @JohnnyFoley1984. Keep up to date with his new podcast on Twitter too: @ArmchairFanatic
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