bolstered his financial state by playing in an orchestra – although it was to no avail since he failed his veterinary exams time and again before giving up altogether – while Pat O’Reilly relied on gambling at the dog tracks in the city; he too failed a huge number of exams but eventually qualified. There was Dominic Boyce who, when drunk, invariably resorted to solitary singing, just like the renowned ‘back court singers’, Jimmy Steele, a born entertainer and storyteller, and Bob ‘Ginger’ Smith who played alongside Alf in the college football team.
There was one college friend, however, who would come in and outof Alf Wight’s life more than any other. His name was Eddie Straiton – a small, compact, dark-haired man who came from Clydebank, a district very close to Alf’s home in Yoker. Eddie was a fitness fanatic and possessed incredible energy. He was a dedicated and very able student who achieved high academic results at the veterinary college through sheer hard work. Although neither a smoker nor a drinker, he participated fully in the many wild nights that the students enjoyed. Large quantities of alcohol were consumed on these occasions and Alex Taylor, who sometimes joined Alf among his veterinary friends, remembers Eddie standing beside the sinks in the toilets as the swaying students lined up to be sick, methodically twirling his fingers around the plug-hole to disperse the stomach contents of the last ‘customer’. After cleaning the sink to his satisfaction, he would shout, ‘Next please!’ Business was always brisk.
Eddie played in the college football team alongside Alf, and his energy on the field was legendary; he just ran and ran. At the end of the game, in contrast to his hard-drinking, heavy-smoking team mates, he appeared to be totally unaffected by the exercise. He was to carry this incredible vitality with him throughout his entire life. Alf and Eddie were good friends at veterinary college and this friendship continued long after they both bade farewell to Glasgow. In the years to come, Eddie would, many times, cross the path of both Alfred Wight, the veterinary surgeon, and James Herriot, the world-famous author.
Alf’s transition from schoolboy to veterinary student was a vitally important part of his life. The enthusiastic, but studious and well-behaved boy, had discovered a totally new world. The social life of the Glasgow veterinary student was a vibrant one, liberally laced with wild nights of carousing and drinking, and Alf found little difficulty in adapting to it. He was a major participant in the social functions that the students enjoyed; indeed, he was much in demand at parties where his natural ability to thump out tunes on the piano contributed in no small way to the memorable nights they all had. His popularity on the piano extended to Buccleuch Street itself, where he could frequently be seen happily playing his favourite tunes – ‘Stardust’ or the old Duke Ellington classic, ‘Mood Indigo’ – on the battered piano in the common-room. It is no surprise that Alf regarded his veterinary college days as some of the happiest of his life.
But one thing had not changed – his deep respect for his mother.After an evening of serious drinking with his friends, he would walk for miles through the streets around his home, making sure that he was thoroughly sober before returning to the house. Even in later years when visiting his mother in Glasgow, he would never have a drink in front of her – instead, he kept the odd secret bottle of gin around to fortify himself when the need arose.
Whether his actions were out of respect for, or fear of his mother, is debatable, but I remember a wry smile flitting across his face one day, after I had recounted an incident during my days at veterinary school in Glasgow when I had endured the wrath of my grandmother who had observed with disgust my unsuccessful attempts at climbing the stairs after a particularly enjoyable
There was one college friend, however, who would come in and outof Alf Wight’s life more than any other. His name was Eddie Straiton – a small, compact, dark-haired man who came from Clydebank, a district very close to Alf’s home in Yoker. Eddie was a fitness fanatic and possessed incredible energy. He was a dedicated and very able student who achieved high academic results at the veterinary college through sheer hard work. Although neither a smoker nor a drinker, he participated fully in the many wild nights that the students enjoyed. Large quantities of alcohol were consumed on these occasions and Alex Taylor, who sometimes joined Alf among his veterinary friends, remembers Eddie standing beside the sinks in the toilets as the swaying students lined up to be sick, methodically twirling his fingers around the plug-hole to disperse the stomach contents of the last ‘customer’. After cleaning the sink to his satisfaction, he would shout, ‘Next please!’ Business was always brisk.
Eddie played in the college football team alongside Alf, and his energy on the field was legendary; he just ran and ran. At the end of the game, in contrast to his hard-drinking, heavy-smoking team mates, he appeared to be totally unaffected by the exercise. He was to carry this incredible vitality with him throughout his entire life. Alf and Eddie were good friends at veterinary college and this friendship continued long after they both bade farewell to Glasgow. In the years to come, Eddie would, many times, cross the path of both Alfred Wight, the veterinary surgeon, and James Herriot, the world-famous author.
Alf’s transition from schoolboy to veterinary student was a vitally important part of his life. The enthusiastic, but studious and well-behaved boy, had discovered a totally new world. The social life of the Glasgow veterinary student was a vibrant one, liberally laced with wild nights of carousing and drinking, and Alf found little difficulty in adapting to it. He was a major participant in the social functions that the students enjoyed; indeed, he was much in demand at parties where his natural ability to thump out tunes on the piano contributed in no small way to the memorable nights they all had. His popularity on the piano extended to Buccleuch Street itself, where he could frequently be seen happily playing his favourite tunes – ‘Stardust’ or the old Duke Ellington classic, ‘Mood Indigo’ – on the battered piano in the common-room. It is no surprise that Alf regarded his veterinary college days as some of the happiest of his life.
But one thing had not changed – his deep respect for his mother.After an evening of serious drinking with his friends, he would walk for miles through the streets around his home, making sure that he was thoroughly sober before returning to the house. Even in later years when visiting his mother in Glasgow, he would never have a drink in front of her – instead, he kept the odd secret bottle of gin around to fortify himself when the need arose.
Whether his actions were out of respect for, or fear of his mother, is debatable, but I remember a wry smile flitting across his face one day, after I had recounted an incident during my days at veterinary school in Glasgow when I had endured the wrath of my grandmother who had observed with disgust my unsuccessful attempts at climbing the stairs after a particularly enjoyable
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