A life in letters: Bairds

A department store in Wishaw Main Street where I used to go for lunch during much of my time at Wishaw High School, a fugitive from the school canteen which I found intimidating.

It was also the venue for my grandparnets' 50th wedding anniversary in 1968 by arrangement with one of the directors, whom my grandfather knew through their mutual involvement in the local branch of the Christian organisation Gideons International. I remember the sense of security and exclusivity that night: we parked on the delivery ramp at the back of the store, and enter by the service bay. The public had become private.

Each lunchtime, I’d walk round from the school to Bairds, and take the lift to the second floor, after pausing beside the rotating stand of Music for Pleasure and Classics for Pleasure records, a label creatively marketed by Paul Hamlyn through non-traditional outlets. I owe him a debt – these records added significantly to my familiarity with classical music. I remember taking home Holst’s Planets Suite from Bairds, and listening to it for the very first time.

I’d sit in the quiet restaurant, alone at one of the tables, and a waitress would serve me. I remember at one point the three waitresses were named after consecutive months of the year – April, May and June. I sensed they thought it rather presumptious for a teenager to be there for lunch on a daily basis. Once, I sent back my glass of tomato juice because I was dubious about the rash of bubbles in it which caused much rolling of eyes. You got three courses for something like 4s 0d, four times the price of a school meal. I often finished my lunch with arctic roll, which I until going to Bairds I had never come across before – a pleasant culinary surprise.

I’d pay at the cash desk, and head downstairs. I remember finding it hard to walk past one of the displays of clothing outside the restaurant. I found the grey pleated school skirts in the ‘back to school’ promotion alluring in a way I couldn’t quite articulate.