Helllllooooo,
Rab here, bored up in Govan – Jamesie’s in the clap clinic and Dodie’s in the big hoose for having a few Carly Specials too many and giving the local police the S.T.P.I.O (Stich this pal I’m offski), Glesga kiss to yous folks.
So I’ve come down to Bucks. in the back of a gin lorry to stay with ma cousin Shug and he’s dragged me off to the middle ‘o nowhere to go hashin? Well yous knows me, I’ll give anything a whirl so I’ve put on me best trainers (brushed the curry off ‘em first mind) and cleanest string vest – allow you it’s got a few beer stains on it.
Now Shug has dragged me out of the boozer and we’re standing around listening to Tracey hen goin on aboot flour and cheques and walkin past blue things, and then sudden like we’re off running down the road faster than Jamesie when Ella’s after him for dipping what he shouldna.
Inter some woods where Shug and his mate Barney start sniffin and goin on aboot the blue things – these are the same colour as the writing on an Irn Bru can but smell better than the Govan tubes as is usually carryin ‘em. Then on we goes faster than Doddie cashin his benefit cheque.
Now I canna get over the lack of hooses – Shug says we are in Charcoal Grove and runnin past Penn Hoose but I canna see nuthin ‘cos I’m sweatin like a sober man in Sochiehall Street on a Saturday night.
Any chance of a Buckfasts Shug? “No Big Man just get on wi it” So we lumps it along the road to what Shug says is Pennhouse Farm where we do a sharp dip ‘o the shoulder right into Brook Wood. Never seen so many trees in ma life ‘cos in Govan, the few there was like have been cut down by the wains enjoyin a bit ‘o fun before their usual borstal stretch.
We’s pass summat called Puttenham Place Farm – my nerves are screamin for a pint – and go across some more wide open spaces (no wonder us Govanites is all agoraphobic) and doon through Pugh’s Wood to, according to Shug Penn Bottom Road. Shug, where’s the boozer, “It’s a way yet Rab but just think, that first pint will slide down quicker than you down a lamppost on Saturday night – oh just look at your Fizzer”
So we crosses the road and slogs up through another wood called Common Wood. By now yous could float the QM2 on the sweat I could wring outa ma string vest. At least we eventually gets to a downhill bit and come out on another wee road where Tracey orders us left. At the junction we goes right up some other middle ‘o nowhere road.
Why are all these tubes so fit? I’m in trainin – 10 pints and pie and chips twice a day and I canna keep up. Anyhow we run past a deed fox that smells like the inside ‘o the Govan dole office. Mind you, could be a wee meal for some alchies were I come from.
After bustin it up the hill alongside summat called Charcoal Grove (again), wees finally get a stop where Shug says it is a long/short split and hellloooo I can go off with Marathon Mike ( did nae offer me a marathon, mind yous I like ‘em deep fried) and Big Steve on a shortcut back to the boozer, so we cruises up the lane and, after they dragged me away from The Squirrel, wees jogged it back to our own wee inn.
Accordin to Shug later, them loony longs went through Penn Wood for Xty miles afore getting back oot on the wee road and doin some loop – loopy if yous ask me – back past Penn Street farm and back to the boozer.
At least in the boozer Tracey had laid on a fish supper, well without the fish anyhow, allow you hen real good too even if there was nae any cold haggis tae go with it.
Well, see you, see me – that ‘s me awar back te Govan.
Shug, thanks for the experience but I think I’ll stick to getting a fry pan over the napper from Mary hen on Tuesday’s in future. Its far less painful.
Mick C. Nesbitt