Jan 312014
 

By Bob Smith.
Grandmother is tickling grandfather

Es growein aul’ tis a pain
Some fowk treat ye wi disdain
If yer noo ower seeventy five
Ye’ve less chunce o steyin alive
.
Ye micht nae be treated fer Big C
Ach ye’ll noo jist hae tae dee
Ye’re a burden tae the NHS
Yer chunces o treatment cwid be less
.
It’s noo a warld fer the young an fit
If yer aul’ yer in the shit
Society wints ye oot the wye
So curl up an bliddy die
.
Leukit upon as bein senile
Nae langer pairt o rank an file
Costs ower muckle fer yer care
Time ye wis plunkit in yer lair
Time fer aul’ buggers tae fecht back
An show the warld we dinna lack
The will tae live an contribute
We hiv mair sinse than some nae doot
.
Maist aulder eens they aye vote
So governmints please tak note
Ignore us an ye’ll fin oot noo
We hiv the power tae turn the screw
.
Seeventy five aat’s noo nae  auld
Even tho some fowk are turnin bald
Wi  hiv earned the richt tae expect
Society tae treat us wi mair respect.
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
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Jan 312014
 

Old Susannah aka Suzanne Kelly gets to grips with current news in the City of Culture.

Dictionary

The rains are lashing us, the sun never seems to shine, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing – wouldn’t it be great if we could hang around together in a civic square to celebrate.

Until such time a Toto are booked to play an outdoor show on the Sir Ian Wood Public Civic Square and Car Park, I’ll have to make do with some excellent acoustic music at BrewDog on Tuesday evenings (and the prototype beer Intersteller is rather fine, too). Congrats to BrewDog and all its 237 staff for creating some real jobs, real revenue, and of course real craft brews.

I did have a few beers to console myself – Led Zeppelin won Rock Album of the Year at the Grammys; I’d been rooting for Justin Beiber all the way. Maybe next time.

There is quite a bit of news this week, but when it comes to happenings in the Deen, I’m a bit stumped. I’ve been trying to get hold of a local newspaper all week, but when I go to the shops, I can only find architectural journals.

It seems that the most innovative thing since granite web ramps may be heading our way – we may get a glass-covered walkway and a second train station. Apparently the whole city favours these developments; how wonderful is that? The broken heart may yet be mended.

The air quality in Aberdeen may be cumulatively the worst in Scotland, according to those left wing Friends of the Earth people, but just think though – if we cover part of Union Street with a glass canopy, then we won’t have to worry about the outdoor air quality any more. I can practically hear you say ‘connectivity’ out loud, too.

I’d no idea there were so many architectural experts writing for the P&J, and yet only one architectural firm, Halliday Fraser Munro, is of sufficient merit to be worth writing about. Perhaps there are dozens of other firms employing draftsmen and designers to work for free making grand drawings and sending them to ACSEF and Aberdeen Journals hoping for cover stories.

If so, I guess they’re just not as good as the glass ceiling and the glass pyramid near the former Union Terrace Gardens, which looks set to be a concrete slab where we can all get together.

there is a scandalous move to install the Golden Eagle as the national bird of Scotland

Precisely what we’ll all be getting together to do other than shop or park, and when the window of opportunity will come weather-wise, are questions that Halliday Fraser Munro have yet to answer. Keep reading the architectural digest formerly known as The Press & Journal, no doubt all will be revealed.

While it’s not like me to be critical or ask questions, this all somehow seems just too beautiful, creative and wonderful to be true.

In a nutshell, our beating heart needs new life and a facelift to be forward facing, but we can get rid of the green lungs UTG provides, and just ignore the air quality. Perhaps it’s time for some face-related definitions.

But first, there is a serious issue which the Conservative Party’s Jackson Carlaw (no, I haven’t heard of him before now, either) brought up at Holyrood: there is a scandalous move to install the Golden Eagle as the national bird of Scotland. I’m sure you’re as surprised as I am, but no – they haven’t all been poisoned yet. Of course you’ll be as outraged by this affront as I am – obviously the Golden Eagle of Scotland is synonymous with the Nazis of the 1940s.

According to the Herald Scotland, Carlaw wants us to have the Robin instead (which also is a species in decline).  Carlaw said :

“The golden eagle is the symbol of an empire that once invaded large parts of Scotland, and more recently of another empire that tried to”

It is not clear in the above sentence whether he was referring to the Nazis, the Romans (who never did anything for us), or the Conservatives.

When I contacted a Jewish friend of mine for an indignant quote about the scandalous suggestion to associate Scotland’s Golden Eagles with Scotland, they said:

“Are you sure you have this right Suzanne?”

I wonder if this association with bad birds was behind the Stewart Milne desire to ‘discourage’ our only city centre pair of Peregrine Falcons from their former Triple Kirks home. He applied for and got permission (big surprise there) to get the birds ‘discouraged’ – i.e. moved on from their roost over UTG when Milne owned Triple Kirks.

Lucky for Aberdeen Milne did so – we could have been associated with Falcons, the Maltese Falcon and the Millennium Falcon if we hadn’t got rid of the birds.

I for one will go to sleep tonight safe in the knowledge that the Conservative Party, having already done so much for Scotland and the UK still has such tireless energy that it can solve our economic problems, support our struggling bankers, care for our environment, and make sure we’re not associated with the Romans or the Nazis because of our Golden Eagles.

 

If you’re forward looking, you’re cool, happening, modern and with it

With Aberdeen set to demonstrate its love of seagulls with glass covered streets so we can see the birds, and of course experience the beautiful quality of their droppings, I think we should give Carlaw’s brave stance the respect it is due.

Time for some definitions.

Forward Looking: (old-fashioned Aberdonian public sector phrase) –  a phrase used to convince the public the city is not backwards looking.

It’s no wonder we are building such amazing glass structures and getting rid of our old, boring granite buildings; we’re forward looking after all. Previous councils said so, so it must be true.  Here is an example of the phrase in a sentence from council documents:

“The delivery of the Council New Build Programme is a key objective of the Council’s Vibrant, Dynamic and Forward Looking policy;” from ACC_Contract_Award_comm_report_phase_1_Byron_Parkfinal

 (The above phrase comes from documents which they tried to withhold. This was to stop us from knowing how much  money one of our illustrious, if follicley-challenged, builders was making from us at the same time as he was buying property from the city for a fraction of its value. A free ticket to an Aberdeen Football Club match goes to the first reader who successfully guesses who I’m referring to).

If you’re forward looking, you’re cool, happening, modern and with it. You also probably want to build cubes with glass curtain walls.

The phrase appears in numerous council documents, although strangely not in any from the time the city was creating Marischal College, St Nicholas Kirk or the Citadel. Rest assured, we’re looking forward. We may be going backward in terms of aesthetics, environment and creativity, but we’re looking forward anyway.

Old Face Syndrome: (modern English phrase) –  a common facial trait whereby the corners of the mouth turn perpetually downward in a frown rather than smiling.

This phenomenon may be as old as Sir Ian, but it’s only recently been given a name. Apparently despite our current economic success, equality, fair system of justice and transparent, accountable governments, some people seem to frown. Shocking.

But perhaps there is a more apt local definition of ‘Same Old Face Syndrome?’ The Aberdonian definition is for ACSEF, Aberdeen Journals Ltd and the City to continue to rely on and listen to the Same Old Faces. Need a City of Culture Bid? Let Rita Stephen do it all. Need a quote about how the city’s retail is in trouble? Ask forward-facing Michie the Chemist to supply one (preferably standing in front of his avant-garde shop window).

Need someone to tell us the obvious truth that Donald Trump has brought millions of pounds and thousands of jobs to Aberdeenshire? Get hotelier Spence to tell us about his 93% increase in guests (in the 30 or so rooms in the hotel he’s selling). Need someone to tell us we need to keep building new identikit houses in the greenbelt? Ask impartial Stewart Milne.

Yes, it’s old face syndrome around here as far as I can tell. Still, as they say, ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ – so I guess we’ll keep listening to the same collection of successes.

About Face: (Eng Phrase) – to change direction or decision abruptly

Back when Stewart Milne wanted to get rid of all that boring, underused open space at Loirston Loch to put up a new stadium which all of the AFC fans wanted, one of the forces objecting was the Labour Party.

Labour’s Richard Baker put in an objection to the plan – yet when the official papers were published, only MSP Brian Adam’s objection was printed. Kate Dean sent me an email denying Baker sent anything in, but Richard proved successfully that his objection had been emailed in advance of the deadline.

It was all OK though, that the large public meeting didn’t get Baker’s objection, because Kate apologised after the fact. Calamity Kate (as the mainstream media were then calling her) ran a public consultation, acting as convener, despite her involvement with the local Cove Bay football team, which would have benefitted had the scheme gone ahead. Ah, those were the days.

Nowadays, we know that a huge number of birds of different species depend on Loirston Loch for water and habitat. We know that meadowland, an area which supports our threatened but very necessary bees, is the fastest-disappearing type of habitat. We know that Wellington Road, which turns into the dual carriageway at Loirston, is one of our most heavily polluted roads. We also know about urban sprawl and how important green space is to health and well-being.

Therefore it is something of an about face that there is widespread support cross party for developing Loirston as a housing estate. Was Baker acting on his own at the time of his objection? Do Labour care about the remaining environment more than profit?  Draw your own conclusions.  http://www.eveningexpress.co.uk/news/local/planners-back-1-067-new-homes-for-aberdeen-1.174468

Next week:  more reviews of the undoubted further http://www.eveningexpress.co.uk/news/local/planners-back-1-067-new-homes-for-aberdeen-1.174468exciting architectural news from our local papers.

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Jan 242014
 

By Bob Smith.
Working online

Mair fowk it seems are buyin online
Toon cinters noo are in decline
A click on tae ony online store
Aathing seen cams tae yer door
.
Fowk they claim es saves them time
Aboot local shops care nae a dime
As lang as fin they click the moose
The “stuff’s” deliver’t tae their hoose
.
Empty shoppies they’re aa aroon
Some are even bein rugg’t doon
Ither eens struggle tae survive
As yearly profits they tak a dive
.
Money nae langer spint in the toon
Causin city faithers tae hae a froon
Weel kent shoppies they gyaang bust
As fowk embrace es online lust
.
Amazon noo is fair takin ower
Bigger they git the mair the power
Add tae basket ye jist click
As throwe their website ye div flick
They say progess ye canna stop
An es is noo the wye tae shop
High Street shop’s wull be nae mair
As modern shoppers cwidna care
.
As lang’s they git fit they wint
An online orders are nae tint
They’ll click the moose fer ivver mair
On laptop screens they sit an stare
.
Toon cinters seen fu’ o ghosts
Shops an shoppers are aa lost
Online shoppin kills the trade
O local fowk fa war self made
.
So cast yer myn back a fyle
Fin city cinter shops hid style
On streets there wis a bustle
Syne online stores,trade did rustle
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014

Image credit © Alex Kirichenko | Dreamstime Stock Photos
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Jan 162014
 

By Bob Smith.

stonehavenflood

Floods they are noo frequent
Efter lots o hivvy rains
Mony say ae problem is
Biggin on flood plains
.
Hooses biggit near rivers
Es canna be jist richt
Mony hooses on flood plains
Is nae an idea maist bricht
.
Watter fa’in fae the sky
It needs tae soak awa
Concrete aa ower the lan
Es is nae eese ava
Mair biggins needit is the cry
Tae hoose oor growein masses
Maybe we jist need less fowk
An keep oor meadows an oor grasses
.
The answer’s nae an easy een
A solution it maan be fun
If climate change means mair rain
Fair sweemin wull be the grun.
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
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Jan 102014
 

By Bob Smith.

Bob the Robin186 Elaine Andrews

Hullo ti ma  feathered freens
As they sit oot in the caul
Aa jist waitin ti be fed
By a fite haired human pal
.
Efter fillin up aa their feeders
An scatterin seed alang the grun
A gyang back ti ma hoose
Ti watch aa naiture’s fun
.
The sparras an the blackies
They swoop doon fairly quick
Syne folla’t by the chaffinches
As throwe the seeds they peck

Starlin’s are at the bird table
Squabblin wi aa their micht
The robin sits on a claes pole
Scauldin aabody in his sicht
The robin tho’ he’s fair itchin’
Ti jine the thrang alow
He flees doon an flutters aboot
His importance he likes ti show
.
The bird bath’s frozen solid
So a sma dishie his ti dee
Five dunnocks try ti hae a bath
Fin there’s room fer only three
.
The craws they sit an ponder
Foo ti get at aa the seed
They try an hing on ti a feeder
Bit they jist spill aa the feed
.
A  fair get a lot o enjoyment
As the birds they gyang aboot
In es  caul windy wither
They need feedin there’s nae doot

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”
Photos – Bob The Robin by Elaine Andrews
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Jan 022014
 

By Bob Smith.
Planet Earth

Wull wi ivver hae peace on earth
Difference o opeenion causes fechts
Can wi see common sinse prevail
An sort oot wrangs fae richts
.
Nae muckle chunce a sadly feel
Greed an religion pull the strings
The puir struggle tae survive
Heicher prices hiv their fling
.
The warld an his mither are oot there
Buyin up aa they bliddy can
Cos they hiv the cloot tae buy
Goods fae China or Japan
.
Wull wi survive the yammer
Fer mair an mair tae hae
Or hive wi the collective will
Tae lave some fer anither day
.
The economy maan hae priority
Governmints an bunkers aye state
Tryin tae bowster warld economies
His  fair hertin’t the greedy trait
Wi hiv the lan wi hiv the sea
Tae produce aneuch fer us aa
Bit big business ca’s the tune
Buy mair an mair they jaw
.
A’ve nae problem wi religion
If yer aye free tae choose
Tae abide bi its doctrines
Or its ideologies tae refuse
.
Spirituality is far mair pleasin
Yer inner sel’ shud hae nae doot
Free yer spirit tae embrace
Fit the planet is aa aboot
.
Fin warld’s resources are near deen
An the planet his nae mair tae gie
Fowk wull roam throweoot the lan
Fechtin ower food an the richt tae be
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013
Image: Planet Earth ©Foto_jem Dreamstime 
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Dec 242013
 

ChristmasTwas the night before Christmas and all through the Deen
Nae een were stirrin, ye ken fit Ah mean?

ACSEF members were nestled all smug in their beds
Visions of brown envelopes danced in their heids
Lady Helen in her kerchief, and Sir Ian in his cap
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap

When out on their lawn there arose such a clatter
Ian sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to his window, he flew like a flash
Hoping no one would try robbing his cash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of granite to objects below
When what to Sir Ian’s beady eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer:

“There’s no right of access to land near my home
“I’ve got lots of money so you’ve no right to roam!”

Twas a little old man with a red suit and beard
“Could this be a communist?” Ian Wood feared.
Santa approached, getting out of his sled
Turning to Ian, this is what he said:-
Christmas

“Perhaps greed and age have made you grow thick
“For as any fool knows I am St Nick.
“I’ve come to the Deen to reward the good
“On second thoughts I could skip you, Ian Wood.”

“The thing is, with the greedy things that you do
“I just don’t think that I can believe in you.”

At this Ian faltered – he so wanted presents:
“Hold on now Santa, I’m not one of the peasants.
“Let’s talk for a moment so I can explain
“How you can maximise your capital gain.”

“Pay your elves’ wages from an offshore tax haven
“Hoots Santa – think of the dosh you’d be savin’.
“Perhaps you should start a ‘Claus Family Trust,
“And there’s ‘Venture Philanthropy’ – yes, that’s a must.”

“No taxes to pay and you’ll save lots of money
“Stop giving away gifts for free – it’s not funny,”
“Just because poor people put up a tree
“Doesn’t mean you should give gifties for free.”

Santa sighed, saying “Thank you indeed Ian Wood
Christmas“I think though that you just might be up to no good.
“If you paid your taxes, if you weren’t so greedy
“I dare say that others might not be so needy.”

“I’ll bid you good night; I’ll say no more.”
“But do say hello to your close friend, Mrs Craw.”

Donner, the lead deer, was slightly perplexed
“Well Santa, which house will we fly to next?”
“Let’s go to the Milne house since we are quite near.”
And off flew St Nick, the elves and the deer.

“Santa, this heated driveway is quite nice,
“It’s totally clear of all snow and all ice.”
Stewart Milne’s ‘eco’ house had some curious features
This driveway was welcome to Santa’s cold creatures.

“Just one gift for Stew, here, do have a wee look”
St Nick was clutching a nice brand new book
“What is it called?” asked a curious elf
“Football for beginners” – Santa laughed to himself.

“I don’t know that Stewart kens much o the game
“He cares more for money, still all the same
“In the spirit of Christmas and the spirit of Yule
Christmas“This book may help him ken the offside rule.”

Away the deer flew with the sled full of gifts
“Hey,” Comet said, “D’ye ken Milne wears lifts?”
All the deer laughed until it was clear
That towards Aileen Malone’s house they were drawing near.

“Don’t be afraid of that witch” Santa said
“Who as we know had your comrades shot dead
“Deer, if anyone needed the loo,
“We’re over Malone’s house. Yes I think this will do.”

Over Malone’s roof they arrived in a twinkling,
And soon every reindeer and elf started tinkling.
“There are those politicians who will tell you, by heck
“that really it’s raining as they pee down your neck.”

“So do your business – relieve yourselves here.
“In memory of 36 Tullos Hill deer.”

The deer did their business and some of them tittered
“With only 5 LibDems she must be embittered.
“At the election her side got quite trounced.
“Change course for the Bates’!” St Nick announced.”

ChristmasAnd soon Santa stood on the Malone-Bates roof
“No wonder that these newlyweds were so aloof
“No news in the press of their marriage was blurted
“To ensure their financial interests weren’t hurted.”

Perfect gifts for these lovebirds Santa had found;
Down their chimney Santa jumped with a bound.

But just as our Santa started to speak
He was scared by a monster which started to shriek.

Santa stared at the thing which wore a night gown
Could this be some kind of a beast or a clown?
Its hair was in rollers, its eyes were cucumbers
Its face was green mud: “You interrupted my slumbers!”

“You’ve got ash on my carpet! Turn around and get out!”
The hideous thing did shriek and did shout.
Santa twigged who it was, she normally looked fairer
It was ‘The Face of the Deen’, the lovely bride Sarah:

“In order for my great beauty to keep
“I need many hours of deep beauty sleep.”
“Oh Sorry,” said Santa, “my fair beauty queen
“I ken now why you are the Face of the Deen.”
Christmas

“From me you will not hear any further peep
“Clearly you’re behind on your beauty sleep
“I’ve just some small gifts for you two then I’ll go
“Back to my sleigh outside in the snow.”

“I’m amazed at the way you two work close together
“Let’s hope that there won’t be any stormy weather
“Like when the course fell into the North Sea last year
“And the cold’s perhaps wrinkled your sweet face my dear.”

Sarah said, “I’ve got an old man and he gives me  presents,
“My beautiful face put me above other peasants
“He pays me to run the world’s greatest course”
(Mrs Bates showed  not even a sign of remorse).

“Well then Sarah, I’ve two little gifties for you
“A gallon of wrinkle cream, och aye the noo,
“And a book you should read , it’s called ‘Golf can be fun”
(For she hadn’t a clue when all said and done).

“No need to thank me, I’m just here to serve
“And I do think you have got the gifts you deserve.”
As the sleigh left, its bells made a sweet tinkle
Sarah ran to the mirror to check on her wrinkle.
Christmas

“All these liars and cheats, they do make me cross
“But let’s pay a visit to Sarah  Bates’ boss”
The elves were astounded- “Santa don’t be a chump”
Santa answered “I do have one giftie for Trump.”

Donald was home, counting his money
And planning a trip to somewhere quite sunny:
“Where can I go next to get a good thrill
“With lions and tigers and bears I can kill?”

The Donald thought people loved him – the great hunter
But everyone thought: ‘what a horrible c*nt’ – (Er,
sorry ‘bout the language but thinking of him
Makes my blood pressure rise and me head start to spin).

The Don said “I built this course for my auld Scottish Nanny”
St Nick replied “Now just you listen here, mannie
“I’ve got a list of who’s nice and who’s naughty
“Or arrogant, scheming deceptive and haughty.
“No gift for you – no ifs, ands or buts
“But please take a voucher –it’s for ‘Supercuts’.”

Izon Security arrived on the spot
They’d been spying on locals – they do that a lot:
Christmas“Get out of that sleigh and let’s see your ID!”
Santa replied: “Are you talking to me?”

“Get stuffed you great b*stards” Santa said with a hiss
“Has the right to roam been reduced to this?
“You’ve no right to spy or to hassle good folk
“And this golf course is really one heck of a joke.”

With a jingle of bells St Nick and his team
Flew over the Great Dunes of North Aberdeen
“Come on deer and elves, there are good folk in need
“The ones who are victims of all this crass greed.

“The ones who are teachers and nurses and such
“They get paid very little yet do very much
“The children who don’t have enough food to eat
“Aberdeen may be rich, but some live on the street.”

“There are people who help the sick and the poor
“Some help animals too, and of this I am sure
“Those who help others with no thought of themselves
“They are the real saints, the real Santas and elves.”

Santa and his team spent the rest of their night
Giving out presents to good folks’ delight.
ChristmasAsk yourselves this “Am I naughty or nice?”
If you’re a bad one, take some advice.

Flaunting your wealth, and harming others
Ruins the chance that we have to be brothers
If you can help, then you should get stuck in
Greed, don’t you know is a terrible sin.

It’s never too late to fight the good fight
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!

– Suzanne Kelly

– . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . –

Picture – Christmas Tree Baubles

Credit: Ian Britton. Freefoto.com
http://www.freefoto.com/download/90-04-66/Christmas-Tree-Baubles

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Dec 232013
 

Fallen Tree 2 - Credit Ian BrittonBy Bob Smith.

Am lookin oot the winda
The win it fair dis blaw
Am gled it’s jist rainin
It’s cauld aneuch fer snaw

Win throwe trees is souchin
They’re duncin tae its tune
It widna be aat surprisin
If a fyow war blawn doon

I widna like for fowk ti be
On Ben Macdui’s tap richt noo
They cwid easily be blawn awa
An feenish up in the Lairig Ghru

Bit we shudna stairt complainin
Aboot the vagaries o oor wither
A widna chynge it fer onything
Hurricanes or tornadoes dinna bithe
r

So blaw awa ye blusterie wins
As throwe the leaves ye fussle
Ower yer strength we’ve nae control
Showin us humans ye’ve mair muscle

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie”
Image Credit: Ian Britton. Freefoto.com
http://www.freefoto.com/preview/16-14-55/Fallen-Tree

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Dec 172013
 

nelson-mandela-longBy Bob Smith.

Madiba he’s bin laid tae rest
His lang journey it is deen
Beeriet in his hame village
Es Freeman o Aiberdeen

His story is worth tellin
Bit a widna even try
It needs a bodie far mair versed
In Sooth Africa’s freedom cry

Ess “Tata” o Sooth Africa
As Madiba he wis weel kint
Fer fechtin agin apartheid
Tae prison wis eence sint

Tata Madiba yer noo free
Amang angels ye can rest
Kennin fine fin on ess earth
Ye did mair than try yer best.

Nelson Mandela fareweel tae thee
Nae mony can tak yer place
A mannie fa focht fer justice
A credit tae the human race.

©Bob Smith”The Poetry Mannie” 2013
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Dec 132013
 

Lucy and Pot - Duncan HarleyBy Duncan Harley.

The story so far:

Cody’s gran, Señora McLaughlin, has died in far off Santa Cruz at an undisclosed old age and her family have gathered round to say goodbye.
At some expense the old woman’s ashes are brought home after a family whip round.

Following the graveside ceremony, the mourners take time to reflect on her legacy in a clan gathering at the local pub. When the tab runs out, only Danny and Rob are left.

All of a sudden the bar door flies open and a white hoodied figure marches quickly in. Pistol in hand, he walks straight up to Danny and raises his hand in line with Danny’s head.

“This is from McAllister” he says, then pulls the trigger.

Danny had known a few dementia sufferers in his time. We all do really. The longer we live, the more likely it is that it will happen either to us or to one whom we know or love or even hate. Vascular, late onset, mid onset and that slightly uncertain early stage of the illness are all slightly unsettling. Especially for the ones left behind of course.

The onset can be insidious however.

–          Shall I have salt on my porridge Dave? Or maybe some honey?

–          Who are you talking to dear?

–          Dave of course.

–          Erm, Dave died at Normandy. He stepped on one of those landmines and bled to death. Don’t you recall? His obituary was in the local squeak. They said he was a sad loss, a hero as I recall.

–          Don’t be silly, he’s right here at the breakfast table. Can’t you see him?

–          Now, as I was saying Dave …

Best perhaps to have a wee defining heart issue or even one of those “he was sorting out the washing one minute then I heard a thud” episodes maybe.

Danny’s uncle Martin was largely undiagnosed until he reached the rank old age of fifty nine, at which point life became unusually interesting for Danny’s auntie.

Off Martin went to work each day to a job which had certainly been his some 20 years before.
The local GP was supportive in the extreme but, with no real diagnosis or indeed cure what could she suggest. Hide the car keys and consider a divorce before it’s too late was the best she could do between the administering of day centres and pills.

The tomato growers in the Clyde Valley had been Martins customers.

The company he had worked for had been out of business for a good few years. Nobody wanted Scottish grown tomatoes any more, the Spanish imports were just as red but much cheaper. Plus of course there were those lax custom regulations. The chance to import some mind enhancing substances was on the agenda.

The big growers had of course diversified into those Garden Centres. Some were of course quite legitimate, others were just money funnels for the Glasgow boys.

Not those Glasgow boys of painting fame of course, just “those” boys.

You know the routine.

–          Bring granny for a wee cup of tea and while you’re at it buy some stuff.
What stuff? No matter, anything will suffice.

–          Can we tempt Sir with a wee umbrella perhaps, black or brown?
Maybe a tartan umbrella or one with that Scottish Saltire emblazoned upon it? No worries Sir, we also have jigsaw puzzles and bird feeders for the back garden. Not that birds can solve the puzzles you understand, but just a suggestion. Always like to help and all that. Milk in that granny tea? A wee biscuit perhaps or just a bill?

–          We have Airfix kits galore, fun wellies replete with frog motifs and golf clothing for the buying. Fancy some nice brown brogues or some bargain publications?

–          We have books about most Scottish subjects. Wallace, Burns and tartan. Clans, Glencoe and tartan. Highland walks, those big mountains and tartan Victoria.

–          If Sir would like to view our paintings.

–          If Sir can take some leisure time to view the original and mainly manly complete toss, mainly manly unhealthy quality, mainly manly  stuff no-one  really needs much, teddy bears and pictures of those nostalgic Lancaster Bombers.

–          Spitfire’s and cuddly cats. Mind those you used to hang off the bedroom ceiling by a thread, the old ones are the best eh? Nostalgia and those Krays.

The keywords.

Tartan whisky, Munro kilts, malt grouse, highland games and those cabers. Highland dancing, that bagpipe lilt and men in kilts. White heather, Jimmy  Shand and Granny’s Heilan Hame.

The money of course often came from dubious sources. The accountants lived in big mansions just off the Bothwell Road.

Right next to those footballers wives spread legs they shovelled it into bank accounts well hidden and well contrived.

–          Fancy some shit, legitimate … honest.

–          I right pal. Think I just embarked from a banana boat or something.

–          Question mark.

–          Honest injuns.

–          I ok. How much?

When the gun went off, Danny had wondered if all was well. A last chance saloon, maybe a delusion or perhaps a good few too many.

–          Who the fuck are you came very much to mind.

–          Is this for real?

CLICK

–          Happy birthday ya big gobshite.  Meant to send you a wee card but at 50P a pop for that Post Office stamp stuff, never quite got round to it. Had a few I see, not a problem.

–          Mc Allister says hello and Happy Birthday.

–          Way hey, look at the state of you.

–          Only a wee joke, lighten up.

Danny had of course imbibed.

Not best pleased he reflected that Señora McLaughlin was still dead. He reasoned that her ashes were back in that Trinity Cemetery and the  family had grieved appropriately.

The bill for the cremation had been paid, the flight costs had been met and the bar bill had been covered. Well at least until 5pm. So no problem then. No unresolved issues whatsoever.

The gun to the head had been tempered by the drink but in the scheme way of things, the birthday message was unwelcome, very unwelcome in fact.

–          Mc Allister and Happy Birthday seemed an unhealthy combination somehow.

Another wee sniff might just make all the difference.

Mind you …

(to be continued)