Jeely Piece: The Tale of an Iconic Scottish Treat
Liz Lister | Jaggy Thistle Tours
I’m a skyscraper wean, I live on the nineteenth flair
I’m no gaun oot tae play ony mair
For since we moved tae Castlemilk, I’m wastin’ away
‘Cause I’m getting’ one less meal every day.
O ye cannae fling pieces oot a twenty-storey flat
Seven hundred hungry weans will testify tae that
If it’s butter, cheese or jeely, if the loaf is plain or pan
The odds against it reachin’ earth are ninety-nine tae wan.
This is a familiar folk tune to those who grew up in the Sixties in Scotland. Even today, most Scottish kids will be able to hum along - even if they couldn’t tell you the words, far less the context of the song! So as an outsider, you may be forgiven entirely if your initial response is - eh?
The song originates in Glasgow, second city of the Empire and power house of manufacturing in Scotland. As more and more people moved to the city to find work, by the turn of the 20th century, the poorer areas were overcrowded, infested and rife with disease. When the Second World War ended and the government of the day adopted policies to look after the wellbeing of all of their citizens, the slums of Glasgow became an obvious target for new social housing policies.
So began a process of pulling down the squalid three- and four-storey tenement blocks and relocating residents to peripheral “schemes” like Castlemilk on the south side of the city. Initially low-level, by the 1960s the multi-storey blocks began to arrive—skyscrapers towering up to twenty storeys high that offered their residents a clean environment, outdoor spaces and that ultimate luxury: an indoor toilet!
But there was a problem. Out of the sustained bombing of the Second World War had developed a strong community spirit where neighbours, perhaps more so in the most deprived areas, would look out for one another and share strong social bonds. When relocation ripped these away many would drift back, hankering after this aspect of their previous life. They called their fancy new tower block Disnae Land (“it Disnae have a bookies and it Disnae have a pub!”).
City children may previously have been poorly educated and under-nourished, but they did have freedom to play in their streets from dawn to dusk, pausing only to shout up to their mothers to throw them a jeely piece!
A jeely piece (a.k.a. a piece of bread and jam or a jam sandwich) is still a staple in Scotland. Nowadays, especially in the more affluent areas, it’s likely that the bread will be pumpkin seed or sourdough, but as the song tells us, in the Sixties, there were only two choices - plain or pan. And therein lies one of the greatest indicators of social class in Scotland.
A plain loaf was the bread of the common people. Baked in a large baking tray in batches of 20 or more, the loaves fused together as they rose, meaning that when the batches were torn apart the individual loaves were well fired on top and bottom but had no crusts on the sides.
Pan loafs as their name suggests were baked in individual tins or pans, giving them a crust on all four sides, but also making them slightly more expensive.
Those who considered themselves “awfy posh” ate pan bread or breid (pronounced: breed), as a native Scot might call it.
For a time in the ‘70s and ‘80s, plain loaves were one of the UK’s best selling white breads. But times change. Perhaps the fact that a slice of plain is too tall for your standard toaster was the death knell. Whatever the reason, there is now only one bakery left(not surprisingly in Glasgow, which produces the Mother’s Pride Plain Loaf in it’s famous wax paper tartan wrapping).
When word went out on social media that the loaf was under threat, the thought of “nae plain ever again” was enough to galvanise supporters. A deluge of protests prompted the bakery to announce that this symbol of a nation was safe for the foreseeable.
Now that you know the story, go back and read those “Jeely Piece” lyrics again. Better yet, you can hear the whole song on YouTube.