No game today.

So I might as well (re*)post the following.

When I was a Chemistry student at Glasgow University, way back when, the student Chemical Society was known as The Alchemists’ Club. Among its many functions was providing the team for an annual University Challenge with Strathclyde Chemistry students. (The year I was in the team we creamed them. Another of our team members loved quizzes so much he went on to the full University team and later appeared on Mastermind. Hello, Tam.)

However the most popular of the Alchemists’ Club’s endeavours was running a football league for students. The participants were allowed to choose their team names. With typical undergraduate, or indeed post-graduate, humour a fair few tended towards the rude but there were also word plays on the names of well known European teams of the time.

To get it out of the way first, there was the fairly obvious Arselona. A team of students whose studies straddled various disciplines called themselves Inter Course. Unless my memory serves me incorrectly there was also a bunch called Surreal Madrid. Another good one was Us Pissed Dossers, in homage to the Hungarians of Ujpest Dosza. But my personal favourite was No Time Toulouse. (I’ve always been partial to a pun; especially one that straddles two languages.)

No doubt inspiration for these creations was derived from the wonderful chutzpah of the works team of a firm of Glasgow bread bakers who adopted the magnificent moniker of A C Milanda. They even took up the red and black striped shirts of the more famous Italian team which has a similar name.

I can only imagine what such jokesters would have made of CFR Cluj.

Milanda bread is long gone. but it seems there is still an A C Milanda.

*Edited to add:- Old age must be creeping up on me. I’d forgotten I’d posted the bulk of this already. I’ve only just seen it again on looking for something else. Serves me right for composing posts elsewhere and not scrubbing them from that file immediately. That earlier post has now been deleted.

From Scottish Junior* Football, West Region:-

Arthurlie (Barrhead.)
The Glasgow based teams Petershill (Springburn) Pollok (Newlands) Vale Of Clyde (Tollcross) Ashfield (Possilpark) Glasgow Perthshire (Possilpark) Benburb (Govan) St. Anthony’€™s (Cardonald) and St Roch’€™s (Provanmill) -€“ two more Saints!
Glenafton Athletic (New Cumnock.)
Dunipace (Denny.)
Thorniewood United (Uddingston.)
Vale Of Leven (Alexandria. Not the one in Egypt; the one two miles from Dumbarton. Though mail has been known to travel via the Near East and be stamped “Try Scotland”€ before reaching there.)
Royal Albert (Larkhall -€“ see first post.)
Ardeer Thistle (Stevenston.)
Craigmark Burntonians (Dalmellington.)
Kello Rovers (Kirkconnel.)

Other good names here are Kilbirnie Ladeside, Auchinleck Talbot and the quite splendid appellation Kirkintilloch Rob Roy – whose pavilion has Art Deco features!

Central Region:-
Arniston Rangers (Gorebridge.)
Kinnoull, and Jeanfield Swifts (both Perth.)
Downfield, East Craigie and Lochee Harp (all Dundee.)

North Region:-
Banks O’ Dee, East End, Lewis United, Sunnybank, Glentanar, Hillhead (all Aberdeen.)
Buchanhaven Hearts (Peterhead.)
Culter (Peterculter.)
Hall Russell, and Hermes (both Bridge Of Don.)
Bishopmill United (Elgin.)
Deveronside (Banff.)
Islavale (Keith.)
Parkvale (Portlethen.)

Montrose Roselea, Crossgates Primrose (whose ground is Humbug Park!) and Dundonald Bluebell are cracking names and there is a Lochgelly Albert.

Dundonald Bluebell were, I believe, the first team for which Jim Baxter, a legend in Scottish football in the 1960s and 70s, played.

Again http://nonleaguescotland.co.uk/index.htm has pictures of the plush or quaint grounds these clubs play on.

*The winners of the top Junior leagues have in the past few seasons gained entry to the Scottish Cup. Junior, in the Scottish Football sense, does not mean for young players. It is merely a different administrative grade.

From the East of Scotland League:-
Civil Service Strollers, Craigroyston*, Lothian Thistle*, Spartans and Tynecastle* are all based in Edinburgh, as are the two University teams of Edinburgh and Heriot-Watt*.
Whitehill Welfare (Rosewell, Midlothian) – named after a colliery.
Preston Athletic (Prestonpans.)
Gala Fairydean (Galashiels.)
Vale Of Leithen (Innerleithen.)

Hawick Royal Albert I mentioned in the first of these posts. They have now been involved in a suspect betting allegation!

The South of Scotland League:-
Abbey Vale* (New Abbey.)
Crichton* (Dumfries.)
Fleet Star* (Gatehouse Of Fleet.)
Heston Rovers* (Glencaple.)
Mid-Annandale* (Lockerbie.)
Nithsdale Wanderers* (Sanquhar.)
Threave Rovers (Castle Douglas.)
Lastly, St Cuthbert Wanderers (Kirkcudbright) – another Saint! – are named after Cuthbert of Lindisfarne.

Once again http://nonleaguescotland.co.uk/index.htm has pictures of the exotic grounds these clubs play on.

Not all East Of Scotland and South Of Scotland League clubs satisfy the conditions to play in the Scottish Cup. Teams I have marked with a * (along with others whose names are geographic) can only qualify by winning their respective top Divisions. Three amateur teams not in either of these two league systems but who do compete in the Cup are Girvan, Glasgow University and Burntisland Shipyard.

The three most recent entrants to the Highland League (Strathspey Thistle, Formartine Utd and Turriff Utd) did not compete in this season’s Scottish Cup tournament and may be subject to the same restriction*.

Further to my post on the weirdnesses of nomenclature within Scottish football my friend Neil pointed out in the comments that playing in the less well known leagues in Scotland there are also not a few non geographically specific names of football teams.

These examples are from the Highland League.

Non-geographical:-
Cove Rangers (Cove Bay, Aberdeen)
Formartine United (Pitmedden)

Vaguely appropriate:-
Deveronvale (the team is located in Banff, on the river Deveron)
Strathspey Thistle (Grantown-On-Spey)

Note, here, that the geographically informative but still strangely named Inverurie Locos, are unfortunately not called this because they (or their fans) are mad, but as a shortening of locomotive works.

However, in this league the belter of a name is undoubtedly Clachnacuddin (meaning the stone of the tub – a landmark in Inverness apparently.)

Remarkably (since I have not seen Dumbarton play north of Brechin/Montrose) I have actually attended a game at their ground, Grant Street Park. I was in Inverness one summer and caught a pre-season encounter with East Fife.

The Guardian newspaper a few years later reported the result of a friendly game between a Scottish League team and Clach (as they are known) but printed their name as Inverness Clerk McCudden.

See here for pictures of the respective home grounds of the above, and other, clubs.

The good lady and I were watching something or other on the TV the other week and there was a character on who was supposed to be Scottish but was named Adrian. We both looked at each other and said, “Nuh. No chance.”

This reminded of the Eastenders character called Trevor. (You know the one, the wife beater who gave Little Mo such a hard time before she turned round and biffed him with an iron.) Quite apart from the stereotyping involved here – not all Scots are violent, wife beating psychopathic bastards after all – I have never, ever met a Scotsman called Trevor. I doubt that one exists. Imagine the time such a poor sod would have had at school with a given name like that.

Another example of the scriptwriters’ (and editors’) of Eastenders lack of understanding of Scotland came when Janine murdered Barry while up in Scotland for New Year. She brought his ashes back to “the Square” in an urn, having apparently managed to get him declared dead, and then cremated, sometime between Hogmanay and Jan 3rd. This was highly suspicious: but of course no-one in Eastenders noticed anything amiss.

Anyone who knows Scotland also knows such a feat is impossible. Such services shut down over that period. Jan 2 is a public holiday in Scotland, after all. I know from personal experience that funerals/burials/cremations etc cannot be arranged quickly at that time of year. Two years in a row I missed my first day back at work after the year end break due to attending funerals of people who had died between Christmas and New Year. The ceremonies didn’t – couldn-t – take place until the 6th or 7th at the earliest, mainly due to the backlog which builds up. Janine would have had to kill Barry before Christmas.

Just another small example of the lack of awareness the biggest part of the United Kingdom has for the customs of the smaller. (Don’t get me started on so called Bank Holidays; nor on complaints about Halloween being an import from America.)

Why was one of my history teachers at school known as “Greensleeves?”
Nothing to do with Henry VIII (of England) who is said to have written the song of that name but may just have nicked the credit and royalties from whoever did write it.

No.

My teacher, I kid you not, wiped his nose – not once, mind, but regularly – by moving his arm across it from his elbow down to his cuff. What else are young lads going to call someone who does that?

Reading “The Fanatic” recently caused me to reflect on the following question. How much Scottish history was I exposed to at school?

Answer?
Apart from the brochs at Skara Brae in Shetland, which were suitably far off in time as to be uncontentious, absolutely none. Rien. Nada. Zilch.

This is notwithstanding what Ronnie Ancona said on the TV programme, QI, about her experiences in a Scottish school which were apparently somewhat different from mine.

Instead of Scottish history I was taught European history from the Partitions of Poland* onwards through the Peninsular Campaign of the Napoleonic Wars, the Congress of Vienna etc and – nearer home – the Chartists, the Reform Acts, Disraeli and Gladstone; all good and worthwhile (shared) British history certainly, but a bit, distanced, shall we say.

This meant that all that Wars Of Independence/Bannockburn/Flodden/Civil Wars/Covenanting/Darien Disaster/Act of Union/Jacobite Rebellions stuff had to be picked up by osmosis from the surrounding culture, or by myself. There was really a kind of black hole where historical knowledge should have been.

I tried to fill in some of the gaps in my early twenties, sugaring the pill by reading the historical novels of Nigel Tranter (I know, I know, but he spun a good yarn while he was at it.)

I always put the original omission down to the fact that Scottishness was in some way considered second class or else had to be kept down by the establishment (it had not been long before this that pupils in Scotland were physically punished for speaking Scots or using Scots words after all.) That it was feared in some way.

But perhaps it was that I had “passed” my qualie (≡ “qualifying” exam; eleven plus) and so went to a Senior Secondary (≡ Grammar School) which was converted to a comprehensive in my last year there, and we were still somehow being trained for Empire – despite the winds of change.

Or maybe it was just the cultural cringe writ small.

Whatever; it didn’t work.

Growing up in a Scotland where the vast majority of broadcast media output was geared to the English audience it was just about impossible to be unaware of England and Englishness. But it was not impossible to feel somehow disregarded as a result of this.

Remember there were only 3 UK radio stations till ca 1967 when it became 4 – though there was also a BBC Scottish service (but I don’t think it was called Radio Scotland at that time.) The pirate stations were never UK-wide. TV had just the 3 channels – only 2 up until about 1962! – which had the occasional “regional” opt-outs.

My sense of Scottishness was only reinforced when visiting cousins on England’s south coast and also, after University, by working for two years in Hertford. My home then was in Essex and involved a long commute – by bus; those were different times.

I discovered then that the vast majority of English people knew nothing of Scotland – and cared less.

I came to the conclusion that for most of my life I had lived in an oxymoron – in a state called the United Kingdom that was neither united nor a kingdom.

It’s actually two kingdoms, England and Scotland; a principality, Wales; and a province, Northern Ireland. And that does not include those anomalies, the Isle of Man and the Channel Islands, which recognise the monarch as head of state but are not part of the United Kingdom proper as they don’t elect MPs to Westminster. A citizen (sorry, subject of the crown) could be forgiven for being confused.

Maybe that original omission to teach me Scottish history was simply the result of a curriculum choice by the History Dept at the school and pupils elsewhere did receive a grounding in Scottish History as Ronnie Ancona claimed she did; but it still seems bizarre even after all these years.

Was anyone else’s experience like this? Or was theirs more like Ronnie Ancona’s?

*My teacher – nicknamed Greensleeves (that may be another post) – wrote this on the board as the Partions of Poland. To much bewilderment at first, quickly followed by derision.

I caught a phone-in on the US TV channel C-Span which was broadcast on BBC Parliament on Sunday.

In it a male caller claimed that in everyday discourse he was “not allowed” to use Barack Obama’s middle name.

Two questions occurred to me.

1. Who, precisely, is “not allowing” him to do this?
As far as I’m aware there is no law against it in the US.

2. Why should he want or need to use Obama’s middle name?
Does he for example always say John Sidney McCain when referring to the other candidate? And if not, why not, if he is so upset about “not being allowed” to say Hussein? Or is he “not allowed” to say Sidney either?

Btw it is so little used that I had to look up McCain’s middle name just for this post.

I personally think this last fact reveals more about the caller than he might realise.

PS If you see Sid, tell him.

The above are the names of Sarah Palin’s children, though the procession sounds like an old-fashioned forward line.

She is governor of Alaska.

And now she might be Vice-President of the US.

OK, Alaska’s only got a small population; but the US? She’ll only be a heartbeat away from the whole shooting match (which given her proclivities it might well end up as.)

But never mind her politics; would you let someone who calls her children names like these run the proverbial whelk stall?

(And before anyone asks, yes, I would feel the same about a man whose children were similarly lumbered.)

It has recently been reported that soon there will be hardly any Normans left, and no Gertrudes at all. Other names which are on the way out include Walter, Percy (What, despite Thomas the Tank Engine?) Harold, Edna, Irene, Ada, Ernest, Nora (Compo you must be devastated!) Herbert, Olive, Agnes, Clifford, even Frank.

So new parents are unlikely to repeat the bizarre decision that those of a certain Norman (whom I have met, and spoken to professionally as a result of my day job) did. He’s even written several text books.

A man called Norman Conquest? Yes, really.

In Scotland, the tradition used to be that, since the mother chose the name, a first son was named after the mother’s father and a second son after its mother’s husband. Sometimes the mother’s maiden name was used. The use of surnames as given names was very common as a result. There are all those Murrays, Camerons, Dougals, Duncans, Gordons, Calums and Finlays, not to mention the odd Menzies or Tavish – I’ve even heard of McKenzies, MacDonalds and Brodies. However, this practice is also now tending to die out.

Despite being the third son in my family, I was named after my mother’s father. (Perhaps it took my parents so long because he wasn’t a Scot.) This caused problems when I was a lad because almost nobody had Jack as a first – in those days it was referred to as a Christian – name. A lot of men were called Jack but their legal name was John. As a child I lost count of the number of times that I was asked, “Are you sure it’s not John?” before sighing and explaining that Jack was indeed my “proper” name.

Yet nowadays Jack is one of the most popular boys’ names (I blame Richard and Judy) and all sorts of weird and wonderful monikers are in vogue.

And I feel sad to hear that the name Norman, in particular, has fallen into disuse.

You see, my other grandfather was called Norman and it is my elder brother’s middle name. I also have a cousin Norman, so I almost feel as if part of my heritage is dying.

What better excuse to embed this inoffensive ditty from Dean Ford & the Gaylords (you wouldn’t get away with that name now!) otherwise known as Marmalade?

Marmalade: Cousin Norman