Flittin’.

Ah saw Fanny by Gaslight last night- ah’d never seen it before and it was the last thing ah expected tae see while ah was walkin’ through the Pumphy Wids on the path tae Craigshill at Two in the mornin’, but that’s another story.  Ah’m gettin’ quite excited aboot ma move. Ah should be in by next Saturday, sittin’ wi’ a wee Uigeadail, listenin’ tae Santana. Ah had a spare room that ah didny need full of stuff ah didny need- so the move will be a wee opporchancity tae make a fresh start and no’ be a Tit. Ah’ll Fuck up, though, ah know ah will. Everything will be new- Cooker, Washing Machine, Fridge, Freezer, Carpets, and that’ll be a first for me. Julie’s been at me for ages tae move but ah’m like a Giant Sloth wi’ a Chicken’s brain and ah’ve dillied and dallied- so a huge thanks tae Julie D for gettin’ it all organized. Ah was told that, fae ma new place, then west along the Cawburn road until ye get on tae Uphaw Station road, then along that until ah get on tae Drumshoreland road, past the COOP and back doon tae ma bit, is a mile- so that’s the target every day, at least. It’s mad that ah’ve ended up livin’ on top of what was the ‘Pratt’s Tip’ and near tae the legendary ‘Hairy Tip,’ where ah spent sae many wonderful days as a wee boy, climbin’ mountains and hidin’ fae Germans and Japanese gentlemen wi’ guns( oor PC obsessed climate does not permit me tae call them what ma pals called them in the early Seventies), buildin’ dams and underground trenches, crawlin’ through the undergrowth and have rabbits jump oot in front of ye, whackin’ away at bushes and plants wi’a guid stick that ye ended up takin’ hame because it was that guid. Just a few yards fae ma front door is the auld mine where ma Granny’s sister’s husband used to begin his underground walk tae start his shift at the Dean’s mine. Fae ma flat it’s only a couple of Hundred fae the spot where ma brother, Andrew, died in 1959. Ah used tae climb the trees in the wee bit of Wids that are left down by the Cawburn road a few yards fae the flat. ……. More tomorrow – One of these days ah’ll get tae Five Hundred words.

 

Ullapool

Had a great wee break in Ullapool-  great weather,nice people- great Whisky. Ah got a wee taste for the Whisky in Ullapool- and ah’ve had a wee tipple every day this week and drank a half bottle since ah got home yesterday at Six pm. Ah’ve opened another bottle that’ll probably die tonight at some point because ah’ve got the taste for it noo and it’s ‘ in me’. Big C says that he laughs at me wi’ the Whisky because ah start off savourin’ a nip and by the Fourth or Fifth One ah’m practically knockin’ them back in a slug. On Monday night in Ullapool- ah was sick after drinkin’ an awfy thing that a rather stunnin’ young Lassie bought me- she walked by Dunc, Big C and I and asked if ah wanted a ‘Shot’- she had a face mask on and sounded a bit muffled because of it, and ah had tae ask her tae repeat what she said. So, daft auld Cunt’s no’ in the mood tae refuse a young Woman’s offer of a drink. She told me tae knock it back in a One- er, and ah did and immediately felt sick and had tae vacate the premises tae find a Wa’ tae be sick behind. It was One of those sickly sweet fragments of an Abortion fae some hideous incest between Alcohol, Sugar and who knows. After bein’ sick ah felt fine and stuck tae the Balvennie Doublewood. On the Tuesday we had a quiet day drink wise and had a guid wee drink on oor last night. Ah got invited up tae Elgin for ‘a party, a Shacky up  and mare’, in Elgin, ‘ anytime.  The scenery was stunnin’ up there. Assynt, Loch Broom, Loch Maree, Torridon- just about too stunnin’ for words. It could’ny have been short of Eight Hundred Miles, the amount of Miles we travelled. It was over all too soon and back tae Livi was Shite, hey ho.

Hospital.

Ah’ll find oot tomorrow at the Infirmary if they can help oot wi’ ma sare legs- hopefully they can stick somethin’ in me that can widen the Arteries, otherwise ah’m effed. Ah’ve had the Black Dug as a companion for the last Two or Three weeks. Ah’m jovial and upbeat enough in company but when it’s just me ah just get depressed and almost Catatonic. When ah wake up first thing, ah’m like a Zombie for aboot half an Hour and by the time ah ‘un Zombie’ it’s time for ma Prozac and a Joint. The plan is tae cook the Bob Hope and use it as Tea- it’s got a nice taste and topped up Twice a day wi’ a wee nip makes for a nice Beverage. Like me, Chrissie B is a loose Cannon wi’ the drink. Ah thought ah’d throw that in because she got a bit worried that ah widny go tae the Infirmary in Edinburgh for ma appointment wi’ the Vascular people. If they can help, that’ll be me off the Joints. Ah wid look at it like bein’ a mistake away fae a Red Card at the Fitba’ if they could help me- and ah widny get booked again and wid hang up ma boots before bein’ substituted. Anyway, that’s for tomorrow. Debbie’s comin’ up for a wee catch up on Friday- ah’ll have tae get ma erse intae gear for her comin’ up regardin’ the tidyin’ up. There was a bit of upheaval and disruption wi’ the Boilers and Radiators gettin’ installed, but ah’ll have it looking OK for her and Rebekah comin’ up.  So, that’s the week aboot sorted- on Monday the Cancer Bus is off tae Ullapool for Three nights and ah’m lookin’ forward tae takin’ in aw the beautiful scenery we’ll be a part of on the way up and doon. Ah’m hoping tae take a few Photy’s, drink a few half’s and have a guid laugh.

Another day.

Another beautiful day today. Ah should be at this website aw day but lately ah’ve been too pissed off tae want tae write anything. It wid just be negative and depressin’, anyway. The sun’s been shinin'( alot) lately and ah’ve got a wee somethin’ in the Bank, ma cupboards are stocked, ma Fridge is full but ah feel totally deflated and unhappy wi’ the way things have turned oot. Ah have tae stop smokin’ and ah’ve just no’ got the will power tae dae it. Walkin’ is just an evil necessity noo, instead of bein’ a wonderful thing tae enjoy.  Like the man said in the film ‘Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin”. The second option seems tae be the easier option at the moment.

Summer.

The weather has been glorious these last few days- gloriously beautiful. Ah love this time of year, especially when we get the weather we should get in June and July. Although, ah’m really strugglin’ wi’ the walkin’, it’s been great to see everything in bloom and hear the wildlife. Ah’m at the stage where ah think this might be ma last Summer- ah hope no’, but wi’ ma health ah have tae be realistic. Ah remember Two or Three days after ah’d been diagnosed wi’ the Cancer and been given a Fifty Fifty chance of survivin’ it, ah was sittin’ ootside the Bank on a day like today wonderin’ how many Summers ah might have left. Well, ah’ve had Six more since then and Two of them have been an Identikit of what ye wid’ve wanted…. Managed tae get some money in the Bank account. Davy, Chris and Linda won’t be forkin’ oot any money tae bury me. Ah went fuckin’ mental, though, and spent Twelve Hundred Quid on Bob Hope in a month- Forty Quid a day, for a month up in smoke. Ah did get a tablet, though, which is what ah’m usin’ to type this out. Ma long, long, long wait for a wee Shag( a big Shag wid be ideal, but a wee Shag wid be fine. Ah think if ah saw a fanny ma first reaction wid be tae put a plaster on it – it’s been that long since ah’ve seen One- Rivelisa, the Woman fae Brazil, hers was the last One ah’ve seen. Unfortunately, she didny look like a Brazilian Woman ye’d see on the beach at Ipanema or Copacabana, she looked like a Brazilian Woman that ye’d see doon the Amazon wi’ a spear and a bone through her nose. Ah still see her at the Mall, occasionally, but ah hide. Health wise, ah’m Fucked when ah walk and ah find it quite soul destroyin’. Tomorrow will be an abstinence day- nae fags, nae Bob Hope and nae Whisky- just tae see if it makes a difference. Whenever ah go oot ah’ve always had a couple of Rastafarian Old Holburn’s beforehand. So, we’ll see if there’s any change. Ah think it’s too late,though and ah widny be surprised if the Cancers back. Hey ho.

The curious case of Flatulencia Windass.

Ah’ve been tryin’ tae stop the fags and have been makin’ alot of Cannabis Tea and Cakes. Linda wid go mental if she knew how much money ah’ve spent on Bob Hope and drink in the last Two weeks. Ah think ah’ve left it too late, though- ah’ve got the worst cough ah’ve ever had and ah know aw aboot coughs, ah could write a fuckin’ Thesis on them. Anyway, Bordeaux for ma birthday in April and le Fitba'(which is French for ‘le Fitba’). Had a guid wee time buying mainly Shite- ah got some nice Whisky, though. The Boabby Thomson Cancer Bus will head for Ullapool in August for a much anticipated return to the heilans. Scotland bein’ back on the big stage at the Fitba’ was guid. Ah likened it a bit to goin’ to a party and no’ gettin’ a shag at the end of the night but seein’ plenty of cleavage while the party was in full swing. It’s quite sad in a way that oor Two ‘wee victories’ were the full time whistle at Wembley after a 0-0 draw and the equalizer against Croatia. We’re just Shite at defendin’. Ah thought we were OK- passin’, organization, aw good. Just Shite defendin’ – oh, and finishin’. Ah’ll stop at that before this gets like the ‘What have the Romans ever done for us’ scene, from the Life of Brian………

Jesus Christ.

  1. On Friday the Eleventh ah had nae fags. On the Saturday, Chris sent me £50 life raft money and ah went tae the Cash machine expectin’ £51.17p and, by Fuck did ah get a shock. There was a wee bit more than that comin’ up on the balance- so much so that ah had tae go tae the Bank tae ask if there had been a mistake. There hadny been a mistake and ah thought ‘ya beauty’. So ah treated masel tae a few things. Spendin’ some money was a good thing. Scotland drew wi’ England last night and it was a great performance. Had a great wee ‘Broons’ day yesterday- Linda was up fae Hawick, Chris was through fae Edinburgh and Dave gand I met up wi’ them ootside the Cemetery at Mid Calder. Oor brother, Andrew, wid’ve been Seventy and we were there tae celebrate his short wee life . We had something to eat at the Black Bull. A guid day.

Fuck the Covid

Well, that’s Springtime almost here and a bit of normality widny go amiss. The Chemist has blundered wi’ ma prescription- ah’ve got enough Amitriptyline tae kill masel aboot Eight times. No’ that ah’m contemplatin’ Suicide but it is an option, ah suppose. Ah’ve been takin’ them as normal but ah usually have a couple of extras when ah canny sleep. Ah’ve been almost in a state of Hibernation for the last Fortnight- Ah’ve hardly eaten and slept most of the time. Ah just weighed masel and ah’m Ten and a Half stone, which is aboot right. Still strugglin’ a wee bit wi’ the isolation and it gets tae me at times. Ah just think aboot bein’ in Hospital for Six Weeks or bein’ in a Polis cell fae a Friday night tae a Monday mornin, and that helps me get over this Shite. At least ah can get oot and get some fresh air.

Tales fae number Six- Jekyll and hide

Ah’ve gone on aboot auld Bunty fae time tae time and how she had that Jekyll and Hyde thing, which we’ve aw got a bit of, but that hers was tae an extreme that wee Laddies and slightly aulder Lassies, or anybody else for that matter, should ever have tae live through. Ah have very few memories of Linda when ah was awfy young but ah canny remember Chris no’ bein’ there. Davy, like Roman roads, it goes withoot sayin’, was ma closest siblin’ and we ran aboot when we were at primary School, playin’ Fitba’ wi John and Jimmy Milne and Ally Emms and the Wids, Kenny and Iany or Eeny or Eenie. Ah wid’ve saved time if ah’d just said Ian, but since ah was Five or Six, ah’ve just known Eenie or Ianey or Eeny Wood and Kenny and Lorna as the Widses Ah remember when ah’d be aboot that age, the Two brothers, I and K[ Fuck gaun through aw that again] wid be Eight and Eleven and they taught me how tae chip the Ba’ and how tae heider the Ba’. Ah grew up tae be Twice as guid as I and K pit the gither- so, whatever gift they had, they lost it when they passed it on tae me -that was oot on oor Green Mile when we were wee- ‘The Humple’. Ah remember Paty, ma cousin, tellin me that when he and Kenny W[ why did ah no’ think of that before?] played in the same ‘Seven Oaks’ Pub team Kenny used tae say about certain  folk ‘ Och, he’s a Scud Broon player – pit him on that Humple or the top Park and he’s like Pele or Maradonna, pit him on a Fitba’ pitch wi a Ref and offside and he’s mare like Madonna- and she canny sing and she’s Shite at Fitba’. Ah strayed off ma original point- which ah’ll go back tae in a minute- canny mention Harrysmuir’s Green Mile withoot Murph. Elaine, who was and always will be, for me anyway, Murph.  If she said tae me ‘Scud’, which tae this day, she still calls me, dinny call me Murph again or ah’ll knock Fuck oot ye’, ah obviously wid stop callin’ her Murph and ah’d call her anything she wanted me tae call her. Ah remember once oot on the Humple, we’d be Thirteen or Fourteen and Murph and Angela Macauley, who’s faither, Nick used tae sit at his livin’ room windie in the Summer and watch us aw playin Fitba’- ah bet Mr Mcauley never thought ah was a ‘Scud Broon’ player, he probably thought ah wis Pele after alot of ma performances oot on the Harrysmuir North Maracana- are you listenin’ Kenny W- thank Fuck it was Kenny and no’ his brother who said that – anyway, oot on the Humple one time when we were aboot Thirteen or Fourteen efter aboot Ten minutes of tryin’, they gave up tryin’ tae  get the Ba’ off me because it was a futile exercise – ah knew it, Murph knew it, and Angela knew it because she wasny as guid at the Fitba’ as Murph. There ah wis Thirteen or Fourteen, playin’ Fitba[ they were’ny, because they couldny get the Ba’ off me] ootside ma Hoose wi  Two of the Pumphy Babes. No’ that they wid’ve but if, at that age, they’d asked me tae dae anything else withoot the Ba’ ah wid’ve ran intae the Hoose greetin’ tae ma faither tellin’ him that aulder lassies were pickin’ on me. Aye, so, ah was talkin’ aboot Davy and I growin’ up and runnin’ aboot the gither[ the gither as one word just looks Shite] throughout Primary School. Davy gaun tae High School was, after ma Granny died in 1972, probably a wee turnin’ point. Up until ah was Ten and Davy was Twelve, we shared everything, we were in the same room, we shared a bath up till we were aboot Nine and Eleven, or until we got tae the stage where ah just got that scared and Jealous of his Cock that ah refused tae share a bath wi’ him and it. Bein’ near other naked men didny appeal tae me at aw and never has- bein’ next tae naked Women, that’s a totally different ba’ game[ no’ Ba’s involved, for a start, which has always been important tae me, and nae Todgers- especially if it was anythin’ like Davy’s – didny matter what they looked like- as long as they didny have a Cock and Baws and they wanted a shag ah wisny gaunny say naw. It’s been that long since ah’ve seen a Fanny[ ah see Alan Shearer on match of the day, but that doesny really dae alot for me] ah wid probably go and look for ma faither tae have a greet at if ah did.  Aye, Davy gaun tae the High School was a wee change. Ah remember in 1973, ah think, Davy and I gettin’ a Fitba Diary/ Callander each at Christmas and it had aw the League Tables and European and Scottish Cup matches fae the previous season[1972/73 and ah loved aw that- statistics and who played who and where and why. Davy, ah remember, writin’ on the First day in his Diary, ‘Had New years day kick aboot wi’ Colin and we fell oot’. On the second day he put in it ‘Had kick aboot wi’  Colin, John and jimmy'[ Milne] ye canny deny it was a rivetin’ read. Anyway ah think that was up there among the biggest faw oots we ever had. Ye need alot of patience tae be ma brother or sister- Chris has the most and Linda has the least. Davy has had alot tae put up wi stress wise, when it comes tae me and ah’ll never live long enough tae be able tae thank him, or Chris and Linda, for what they’ve done for me. This bit was meant tae be aboot auld Bunty and her Jekyll and Hyde nature, sober and drunk nature wid be more fittin’. Next time for that- it’s nearly Eight am and ah started typin’ this at Three am- that’s a Thousand words in nearly Five oors. That means ah’m a Scud Broon typist.

The big Black Dug

Auld Winston used tae call his depression ‘The Black Dog’ and ah always thought if it’s good enough for Winnie, it’s good enough for me. Ah still wrestle away wi’ that auld Cunt- part of me has a likin’ for him- his Alcohol intake alone was enough tae get him Three Knighthoods- and he had a presence aboot him, but at the end of the day he was an auld God save the King or Queen, Tory Git.  Anyway, it’s Three o Clock in the mornin’ and, unlike Crystal Gayle, ah’ canny sleep and ah’m watchin ‘Warbirds’ on the Horror Channel, in between havin’ a wee smoke and typin’ this oot and it’s Fuckin’ awfy. On an ‘unknown’ Atoll somewhere in Atoll land an American Lady Ace Pilot crash lands perfectly and meets up wi’ Japanese troops and flyin’ Dinosaurs. Enough said. Dinosaurs at Three o  Clock, Skipper, type of thing. So, earlier on, aboot half Nine, ah just had this almost overwhelmin’ kind of wee mental breakdoon. Ah’d got ‘ Linda’d ‘earlier on when she phoned me. Meanin’ that every time she phones me or ah phone her ah get aboot Eighteen and a half Minutes of Linda bein’ Linda which is a combination of Julie Andrews fae the sound of Music, the White Witch fae the East or West or wherever the Fuck she was fae, in the Wizard of Oz, and Delia Smith and Mary Berry or Hairy Belly or Halle Berry, or whatever the Fuck she’s called- but ah always get that Minute and a half where she turns intae a scarier version of Auld Bunty. Auld Bunty needed a drink tae turn intae her Mr Hyde- she wouldny be confrontational when she was sober. The Minute that Second can or bottle went doon she made Baby Jane seem like Shirley Temple and ‘ went straight for the Jugular’ as Davy, sae aptly put it. Linda didny need drink as her back up and never has needed it and that is, or was, one huge difference between them. Ah have been verbally knocked Fuck oot by Linda on numerous occasions and it’s usually aboot me smokin the Fags and the Blaw, and last night was nae exception. By Fuck, did ah get a sare ear last night. Ah felt so Guilty for bein’ a smoker when we’d finished oor blether last night that ah think ah fell intae a mini mental breakdoon for aboot an Hour after it. Haggis agus Tumshie agus mashed Tatties – the business. Ah dragged masel oot the hole ah was in and ah’m ok noo.