Wild Soup – The life and times of Scud Broon

The Maternity Ward in Bangour General Hospital is where ma story began after poppin’ oot in tae the world. In the next bed to ma mum, Bunty, was Mrs Wilson[ Trudy] with her new edition to the Family, Jim, who remains to this day, one of ma best pals, even though he slags Hibs off on the Pusbook at every opportunity. In the intervenin’ Fifty Seven years, Jim has gone on to make something of his life, marryin’ his lovely Marion,havin’ kids and Grand kids and,ultimately settin’ this Website up for me because he’s awfy guid at this sort of thing. As for me, ah discovered Marijuana at Fifteen and ah’ve , unfortunately, never really had the time or inclination to discover anything else since then. Anyway, in the beginnin’. Ah think it was tough goin’ when ah was aboot Three or Four- Chris and Linda were Six and Eight and a half years aulder than me, so they knew better. Davy, Two years aulder than me, and I, were too young to comprehend what was goin’ on, but we had a Grand stand seat at the front when the Battle of the Somme began not long after. Ah remember as a wee boy the odd wee thing that belonged to Andrew scattered around the hoose, a shoe or a Schoolbook or a childrens book. Davy and I never saw Andrew, he was killed in a tragic childhood accident in the May of 1959, but he was never far away, be it in conversation or the few mementoes that survived him. Ah played at the same spot where he was killed and probably walked past one of the wagons the accident happened on. Ah wid go walkin’ wi’ ma uncle Allan and sometimes we’d pass the place where it happened and he wid always say ‘That’s where yer brother was killed’ and we’d be silent as we walked past and he wid sometimes get the hanky oot and blaw his nose, knowin full well that ah knew he was just havin’ a wee ‘Andrew moment’. Bunty hated Davy and I playin’ by the Bings and wid always say that she couldn’t have coped wi’ another tragedy. Two in a week for any parent is more than enough for a lifetime and that’s what Bunty and Scud had to cope wi’ in what must’ve been a shatterin and devastatin’ week in late April, early May of that year. Andrew was killed on the Saturday, Five days after Bunty had given birth to a stillborn child. so, as ye can imagine it widny’ve been a bundle of laughs in the hoose that week. So, aw that was just a part of the ingredients that were to end up in the wild soup that was no.6 Harrysmuir North.