How distant it feels, and how close. The picture I mean. That’s me in the middle, the boy with the fringe, next to the boy in the football top (Raymond, I remember that). I also remember the teacher. Of course I do, she was wonderful. Mrs McIntosh. She wore a pen on a string round her neck. Funny how you recall the tiny details from the ancient past.

Well, pretty ancient. 1979. The picture was taken at Walker Road School in Torry, Aberdeen, where I spent most of my primary years from the mid-70s until the early 80s. The school was old even then and the architecture (and some of the attitudes) were solidly Victorian. I remember being belted once and it seems extraordinary now that a grown human could whip me over the hand. And yet I know I’d been caught throwing books around so even now there’s part of me that thinks maybe I deserved it.

I’m looking at the picture again, the details, the faces, and I’m happy and sad. I know, for instance, that at least one of the children in the photograph is dead now and didn’t make it past his thirties. But I also remember that this is the room where Mrs McIntosh got me interested in books and where my desire to write first took root, so she’s probably to blame for turning me into a journalist (sorry people). I launched a classroom magazine and appointed myself editor (of course I did) and wrote my first piece of criticism, which was a review of The Krankies and Patti Boulaye at the Capitol. Three stars.

So what’s left of it all? Bits and pieces. Look at the desks in the background, the old-style ones with ink wells and lids. When the school was getting rid of them, I got my hands on a couple and I have them still and use them as bed-side tables, so that’s something isn’t it, something physical. But mostly it’s just stuff in my head, little splinters: a game of marbles up by the trees, the sweetie shop across the road, the huge stone steps (walk on the left!) You may have similar memories, unless you’re young.

The Herald:  Walker Road School, Aberdeen

Forgive me at this point if you think all this nostalgia stuff is self-indulgent, but I suspect you know how it feels and why I’m doing it. Firstly, it creates a kind of pleasing melancholia, like listening to The Smiths, so that’s all good. But I’m doing it also, secondly, because I came across that picture of Walker Road the other day, in the P&J when they published a story to mark what I guess is the school’s final end. The pupils are moving to a new, purpose-built school called Greyhope and I’ve seen the minutes of the meeting at which the council took the decision and they say the new place will be modern, spacious and all the rest of it, and that’s fine. I get it.

But I’m grieving a bit, I must say, mainly because I struggle with change, but also because I’ve seen what happens to a lot of the modern replacement buildings in the end. Walker Road Primary was built in the 1890s and it’s aged well; it’s still strong and solid and it’s still there. Modern buildings on the other hand often have a much shorter lifespan: 30, 40 years if you’re lucky, and that seems wasteful; why not just stick with what you’ve got?

Then there’s the question of what will happen to the old school now. Last week I was writing about Ayr Station Hotel and just a few hours later – and I swear it had nothing to do with me – the hotel was on fire. Something similar also happened to another old Aberdeen school not far from Walker Road: Victoria Road. It was abandoned and set on fire and there’s talk of it being turned into flats and I hope that happens, I really do.

But what about Walker Road? Looking at the minutes of the council meeting, I can see I’m not the only one who’s worried. There was a public consultation about the plans to close it and some of the locals pointed out that Walker Road is a historical building in Torry and remains fit for purpose. They also raised concerns about the existing school building and that it was important to reach a decision on its future quickly.

Too right, but the council’s vagueness is not reassuring. They say no decision has been taken on what will happen to the Walker Road site. They also say that if the school is declared surplus to requirements, they have a surplus-building procedure that will be followed. And they tell us the procedure will ensure all potential options for the future of the site will be carefully considered.

No offence, but this sounds like waffle to me. As I say, we also have the example of Victoria Road which was effectively abandoned and is currently a burnt-out shell. And what makes it worse is that Torry is an area of relative deprivation and this is often what happens in areas of relative deprivation. Even though communities like Torry actually need communal buildings more than most, they are more likely to lose them, partly because they don’t have as many pushy, well-connected people to speak up for them but maybe also because it’s easier for the authorities to get away with it. It happens in other cities too of course. Look at the scandal of Springburn Burgh Halls in Glasgow. Would that have happened to a building in the West End? Of course not.

I accept that sometimes old buildings outlive their original purpose: school, hotel, whatever. But what I don’t accept is the assumption that often underlies public policy that old buildings are more trouble than they’re worth and that they get in the way of development. Wrong. They can be part of development, of progress. I’ve seen neglect and demolition before – we all have – and I worry that we’ll see it again with Walker Road. And then again with somewhere else. Over and over.

So don’t let it happen this time. The decision to move to a new school has obviously been taken – battle lost – but Walker Road School with its huge atrium would make the most extraordinary apartment building, ideally affordable but definitely mixed so that a whole range of people could live there. In fact, I’m starting to imagine buying one of the flats and bringing my old desks with me; it would be a kind of reunion.

Nostalgia of course, and too much of it isn't good for you in the end. But all I’m really saying is we need to be careful here, and respectful. Yes, I’m looking at that old picture and feeling a bit sorry for myself about my distant childhood, big deal. But what really matters is that the building is still there. It still has a future, it really does. So make sure it gets it.