Muirton Park Photos Before/During/After Demolition


Sir Albert Tatlock
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Surprised that St Johnstone did not bring out a publication of the demolition and the building of McD.

The PA had some sort of pull-out called "A New Era" which had decent pictures of both in it.

Edward's Engineering on Glenearn Rd. did the steel work for McD (they were aslo responsible for the much criticised segregation at Muirton) and they used to (and may still) have some cracking photos of McD being built in their reception area.

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i wouldnt mind knowing the villa line up for that game

Game was played on Thursday 4 August 1988. Villa line up from the programme was Nigel Spink, Chris Price, Neale Cooper, Derek Mountfield, Martin Keown, Andy Gray, Kevin Gage, Gordon Cowans, Mark Lillis, Alan McInally, Warren Aspinall, Tony Daley, Lee Butler, Paul Birch.

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Dev will need to reduce the size of this image, apologies about the size for the moment...

Must have missed this the first time round but it's done now. Only needed a wee trim unlike the previous ones.

Great photo, cheers for posting it! :)

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Muirton_1947.jpg

Things that hit me -

1. Lack of cars, great for driving, a pleasure;

2. At least three large chimneys in Perth, not there anymore;

3. No large road out of Perth to the south i.e. M90;

4. No enlosure in the East terracing;

5. Tha Barraks wide open space, disappeared in the 80's and also where the Saints buses left from.

Must be other things.

I liked coming along the Lade side in my early years and later with my friends coming up to the Railway bridge on the rieff Road and suddenly seeing huge crowds outside queuing and inside on the embankment and terracing. Getting inside through various methods :roll: and reaching the top of the Florence Place end terracing, sometimes buying a programme and just absorbing the atmosphere. Plenty space to wander in and out the crowd to where you want to stand - no clutter of seats. Peeing behind the East Enlosure, well it's important to learn from adults :wink: , climbing up through the toilets into the Main Stand with my friends, metal plates which were used for the half-time results and switching them around when the guy passed e.g. Motherwell 6 Rangers 0, causing the guy on the speakers to correct the poor guy placing the plates on the fence since everybody was reading their programmes to find what letter was for each half time result. I remember once ...

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I'll never forget that first day at t'pit. Me an' mi father worked a seventy two hour shift, an' then we walked home forty three mile through t'snow in us bare feet, huddled inside us clothes med out o' old sacks.

Eventually we trudged over t'hill until wi could see t'street light twinklin' in our village. Mi father smiled down at mi through t'icicles hangin' off his nose. "Nearly home now lad", he said.

We stumbled into t'house and stood there freezin' cold and tired out, shiverin' and miserable, in front o' t' meagre fire. Any road, mi mam says "Cheer up, lads. I've got you some nice brown bread and butter for yer tea."

Ee, mi father went crackers. He reached out and gently pulled mi mam towards 'im by t'throat. "You big fat, idle ugly wart", he said. "You gret useless spawny-eyed parrot-faced wazzock." ('E had a way wi words, mi father. He'd bin to college, y'know). "You've been out playin' bingo all afternoon instead o' gettin' some proper snap ready for me an' this lad", he explained to mi poor, little, purple-faced mam.

Then turnin' to me he said "Arthur", (He could never remember mi name), "here's half a crown. Nip down to t'chip 'oyl an' get us a nice piece o' 'addock for us tea. Man cannot live by bread alone." He were a reyt tater, mi father. He said as 'ow workin' folk should have some dignity an' pride an' self respect, an' as 'ow they should come home to summat warm an' cheerful.

An' then he threw mi mam on t'fire.

We didn't 'ave no tellies or shoes or bedclothes. We med us own fun in them days. Do you know, when I were a lad you could get a tram down into t'town, buy three new suits an' an ovvercoat, four pair o' good boots, go an' see George Formby at t'Palace Theatre, get blind drunk, 'ave some steak an' chips, bunch o' bananas an' three stone o' monkey nuts an' still 'ave change out of a farthing.

We'd lots o' things in them days they 'aven't got today - rickets, diptheria, Hitler and my, we did look well goin' to school wi' no backside in us trousers an' all us little 'eads painted purple because we 'ad ringworm.

They don't know they're born today!!!

Seriously, though. Great thread. Thanks. Meaningless to the youngsters!

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Guest Nairn Saint
I'll never forget that first day at t'pit. Me an' mi father worked a seventy two hour shift, an' then we walked home forty three mile through t'snow in us bare feet, huddled inside us clothes med out o' old sacks.

Eventually we trudged over t'hill until wi could see t'street light twinklin' in our village. Mi father smiled down at mi through t'icicles hangin' off his nose. "Nearly home now lad", he said.

We stumbled into t'house and stood there freezin' cold and tired out, shiverin' and miserable, in front o' t' meagre fire. Any road, mi mam says "Cheer up, lads. I've got you some nice brown bread and butter for yer tea."

Ee, mi father went crackers. He reached out and gently pulled mi mam towards 'im by t'throat. "You big fat, idle ugly wart", he said. "You gret useless spawny-eyed parrot-faced wazzock." ('E had a way wi words, mi father. He'd bin to college, y'know). "You've been out playin' bingo all afternoon instead o' gettin' some proper snap ready for me an' this lad", he explained to mi poor, little, purple-faced mam.

Then turnin' to me he said "Arthur", (He could never remember mi name), "here's half a crown. Nip down to t'chip 'oyl an' get us a nice piece o' 'addock for us tea. Man cannot live by bread alone." He were a reyt tater, mi father. He said as 'ow workin' folk should have some dignity an' pride an' self respect, an' as 'ow they should come home to summat warm an' cheerful.

An' then he threw mi mam on t'fire.

We didn't 'ave no tellies or shoes or bedclothes. We med us own fun in them days. Do you know, when I were a lad you could get a tram down into t'town, buy three new suits an' an ovvercoat, four pair o' good boots, go an' see George Formby at t'Palace Theatre, get blind drunk, 'ave some steak an' chips, bunch o' bananas an' three stone o' monkey nuts an' still 'ave change out of a farthing.

We'd lots o' things in them days they 'aven't got today - rickets, diptheria, Hitler and my, we did look well goin' to school wi' no backside in us trousers an' all us little 'eads painted purple because we 'ad ringworm.

They don't know they're born today!!!

Seriously, though. Great thread. Thanks. Meaningless to the youngsters!

Star man! :lol:

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