A story from the Fort in the 70’s: Big Jock, the Hydro Electric Cable Jointer.
I recall the cable jointer 'Big Jock' in the Fort. He was a man of few words. As a fresh, curious seventeen year old I was doing my first six month placement with the craftsmen of the local Scottish Hydro Electric branch in Fort William, because it was my home town.
Big Jocks morning routine was, firstly, supervising others to dig the joint hole precisely how he wanted it. This was no mean feat. It had to be the right depth - he was a big man remember. And it almost had to have wall to wall carpet in the bottom. His jointer’s mate ‘Wee Sandy’ (who incidentally was tiny in comparison to Big Jock’s vast frame) then put the kettle on the gas burner. No need for wasted breath or instruction. This was the way things were.
The kettle has not been cleaned since its inaugural boiling, goodness knows how many decades ago. Copious tea bags were added to the fast boiling water - these stoves burned hot. After the tea was appropriately stewed, a dark liquid was poured from the blackened, battered kettle into tin mugs, which, apart from a cursory rinse, had also not been cleaned for decades. Jock added copious amounts of sugar and sat down in the drivers seat of the Hydro van, newspaper on the steering wheel, cup in one hand, pencil in the other. Now came the first critical task of the day: choosing the horses. After intense study, in silence of course, Jock passed his chosen hopefuls to his mate who was dispatched, wordlessly, to the bookies to place a bet.
Then, something appeared to strike him. He looked up from his paper and turned to me, with a quizzical frown. “When do you qualify as an Engineer?” I told him not for another four years.
He did a silent calculation, nodded and grunted as he seemed to work out he would be retired by then. He looked away and got back to the important business of reading his paper and finishing his tea.