When the Tele’s Lindsey Hamilton asked me for a few memories of living in Ellengowan Drive, it all came flooding back.
Hillcrest had started work again, post lockdown, replacing the old housing development built as temporary accommodation in 1925, with no one then ever imagining they’d last almost a century.
If you’re struggling to place them, they were the flat-roofed white blocks of flats opposite Baxter Park, on the Arbroath Road.
Lindsey asked for a few sentences and I wrote dozens (in Monday’s paper) so I hope you don’t mind a cathartic overspill here. It might jog your memory of your own childhood.
I pass the area often and each time (while I know things must move on) I feel sad to see the neat, levelled ground and piles of rubble, now the only reminder of what was.
In the late 80s, aged seven to nine, home for mum and me was Number 75, Ellengowan Drive.
I loved the ring of rhyming words our address had and I was proud of our two-bed first floor home. It was an important step – our first place as just us, having moved out of Buttar’s Street in Charleston with her and my gran, who also moved close to Ellengowan and still lives there.
My memories won’t be so different from your own – but all our recollections from years gone by are inextricably linked with the homes, surrounding houses, neighbourhood and community around us.
There was a woman at the top of the steep incline who sprayed our beloved white cat Satin (we thought he was a girl until we visited the vet) with water when he ventured on to her lawn.
I say “lawn” like it was some huge stretch of striped green grass with water features but, to us, that’s what it was, because it was our own.
At the end of our garden was a shed which my little cousin Jill hid in for a game of hide and seek – except my mum didn’t realise, locked it and forgot about her for an hour. Sorry Jill.
I walked the neighbour’s slow-moving dog and was distraught one day when he stepped on some ants and flattened them.
Isn’t it funny what you remember? Like the puppet show I put on at the monkey bars at the playpark with my pal Lisa – having written invites and popped them through doors. We waited an hour before realising no one would come.
I have so many more memories from this time, but let’s focus on the future. The flats had to be replaced – riddled with asbestos (I’m told my plasterer grandfather, who I called Papa, removed ours) and with problematic flat roofs which collected water. They excelled all estimations of longevity.
I love that the famous Kiosk shop will be replaced – and hope it has the same name, though nothing will beat the charm of that ramshackle, wee wooden hut. The planned playpark will offer generations to come great fun.
Though any kid who played there before will remember the bush that doubled as a swinging seat and den which sadly won’t have made the cut.
Developers Hillcrest say some former residents have chosen to come back and that warms my heart.
I hope they are happier than ever with new, shiny kitchens, gleaming windows and loos. And it’s a fresh start for new faces.
Good luck and love to all “Ellengowners” past and future.
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