Friday 28 May 2010

Ran Tan Waltz

Ah'm jist a biddy that bides up a stair, ah've aye bided up stairs. When ye bide up a stair ye get tae ken a lot aboot fowk. It wis nae secret up oor close that Mary wis a bit o a drinker. Ye wid catch her some days gaun fer her messages at fower in the efternin. That's far too late tae get fresh fish ah wid say. No that ah wid say it tae her face mind, ye widnae speak tae her then, no afore she'd been doon the street, or she wid bite yer face aff. She aye had her heid doon an wid hurry by ye, aye half-walkin-half-runnin, fashin tae get aw her messages done afore her man got back fae his work. Big Tommy McGuigan wis a dark-lookin thundercloud o a man, he aye looked like he wis jist aboot tae pish wi rain. He rarely went oot mind, bar fer gaun tae his work an tae the kirk. When he telt Mary he wis gaunnae get rid o her, a wee bit o me couldnae help but feel a wee bit relief fer her, fer she wis never gaun tae be settled till she wis awa fae him or else yin or baith o them wis deid an buried. It wis awfy tae see cos she'd been sae happy a bairn, she wis awbody's pal, aye smilin, aye laughin, an she wis fine till she met him an got couried in under his thumb. We aw kent she wis drinkin, ye could see fer yersel it wis obvious, no gettin up till aw hoors, no pittin her washin oot till it wis practically gettin dark, she wis aw erse-afore-elbae, it's a wonder she got oan at aw, ah dread tae think whit the inside o her hoose wis like!

We'd heard a whisper right enough, it wid've been some weeks back, that she'd been seen hingin aboot doon the fit o Leith Wynd yin night. Bold as brass she wis apparently, right there at the auld Trinity kirk corner. We aw ken it's hard makin ends meet at times, but hawkin yersel oot's never the answer. Mary wis lettin hersel doon, thank god her maw wis deid, an half o me wonders if she did it purely tae get Tommy riled up, whit wi him bein aw strict Brethren an that.

Well, if that wis her game it worked a treat right enough, mair than she wis bankin oan ah wid wager, for ah doot she could've foreseen whit wis comin tae her. God alone knows whit he had done tae pit that amount o fear that he must've pit intae her, or whit he pit in her drink, some tincture o defeat an dismay, fer she must've walked aw that way, fae her hoose doon at Blackfriars tae the Grassmarket, wi that sign roon her neck. Can ye ever imagine the shame o it? Ah will say fer the lassie tho, fer yince she wisnae half-runnin, aw naw, this night she wis jist shufflin alang at Tommy's side, lookin even mair wee an bent ower than usual. Aw the way up the High Street they walked an doon the West Bow. We were aw gethered at this time up at the heid o the Grassmarket, some o the shows were up, an we were hain a grand blether. Bein as it wis a Wednesday it wis half-day, an it had been too hot tae dae much in the way o hoosework that day. Me an some o the lassies were sittin up at the fit o the Bow haein a right laugh, joshin the wee laddies an puin faces at the auld wummen. Tae be honest we were aw half-cut, we'd been there since dinnertime, an ah wis oan the sherry, ah think ah must've had aboot fower pints, an some o the faces ah wis puin ah wisnae rightly meanin tae...

Anyway there they came doon the Bow an right past us. Him big, lowerin, dark an stridin oan, wi his guid black suit an hat oan, her wee shilpit bauchle o a figure doon aside him, wi this board sign hingin roon her neck, an chalked oan it wis these words-


"TO BE SOLD BY PUBLIC AUCTION" 

an an auld tow roped aroon her waist, him leadin her through the streets like a kye gaun tae mairket. It seems Tommy had awready fixed this affair up in advance an had an auctioneer awready waitin ootside the White Hart pub, his name wis Jock somethin. Ah think the wee man had been inside the White Hart since it opened that mornin, likely fortifyin his nerves, kennin whit wis comin his way that nicht. Tommy McGuigan must've paid him weel fer his troubles, but smellin like a brewery like wee Jocky did cannae hae come cheap, an he'd be lucky if he'd hae a ha'penny left o his 'fee' by the time it came tae gettin up oantae his box an tryin tae start the sale.

Whit ah hellish rammy there wis gaun oan doon there in the Grassmarket that night. Thoosan's o folk, aw shoutin, aw bawlin, aw barrackin, awbody had somethin tae say tae it an say tae it they wid. Some were haranguin Mary fer her 'crimes'. Noo, how could it be a crime tae be a drunk? Ye couldnae help it! We were aw half-pished back in thae days! Sherry an beer wis aboot aw ye had tae drink. We had nane o yer bottled spring water or Barcardi Breezers back then. Aw Naw. No even Irn-Bru, they hadnae invented that yet! Or even a decent latte. Ye got pished, or ye went dry. Ye could try the water fae the wells if ye wanted, but that smelt o horse manure half the time. Ah aye went fer a nice Harvey's Bristol Cream if ah wis in the hoose, but ah wid drink onything if ah wis oot in company, no wantin tae get a name fer masel fer bein high-falutin. The lengths ah wid go tae tae smuggle in ma supplies... Other folk were shoutin at her that it wis awright tae be a lush, but she shoulda nivver hae tried sellin her body. "That wis beyond the Pale!", they were shoutin, an "Ya feckin Jezebel!" an suchlike. There wis anither bunch, sittin ower by the auld Corn Exchange, haein a sit-doon demonstration in support o drunken-sex-industry-workers-rights, or at least that's whit they looked like. They were only sittin doon cos they couldnae stand up straight mind. Ah think they had come doon fae the Tap o Lauriston alehoose where they'd been 'debatin' aw day. They were a rum bunch aw roond, wi their hair an their faces an their claes an their... attitudes... Ah ask ye, why dae fowk dae that tae thersels? Dae they no want tae get a shag or somethin?

So, by-an-by, wee Jocky manages tae get things quietened doon a bit, mainly by bangin twa auld biscuit tins th'gither so it took a while. Fowk eventually shushed each ither, an it aw went a bit quiet...



Wee Jocky cries oot, "Right! Oyeez! Dae ah hae ony bidders fer this fine wife here?" an there's shouts here an there amongst the crowd. First up this auld Shepherd fae the Heelans bids a pound an ten bob, an then a tinker an then a Pig Jobber we heard wis fae Killarney cry oot their bids. A pound an twelve an sixpence wis the Pig man's bid, noo can ye imagine bein pit up fer that price? £1.65 in th'day's money. That's no funny. Mary didnae deserve that...

This is where it gets wild. This braw big brawny Irish soutar suddenly comes bargin oot o the Black Bull pub, he's heard aboot the £1/10 that wis bid, an he's no happy one bit. Ah heard efter it that this big Irish laddie had a bit o a thing fer Mary, an as weel as that ah heard that he had been yin o her 'clients' doon the Leith Wynd if ye catch ma drift. Whitiver the reason, anyway, he pushes up tae the auld pigger, an lamps him yin in the breid-bag! The wee fat pigger's doon oan the setts, squealin like a, weel, like a wee piggy. Aw hell breaks loose!

There's screamin an bawlin, folk are gaun "Fight! Fight! Fight!" like as if they were back at school. Next thing, this big Irish guy's up oan the auctioneer's box, tells him he wants tae buy Mary, then punches wee Jocky in the heid! Knocks the wee man right aff the box an splits his heid! Merry Hell ensues. At least this pits a smile oan Mary's face tho, an she starts hee-hawin awa, ah'm thinkin she must've kent this Irish laddie efter aw, an the crowd's aw laughin alang, ye could barely hear yersel think, such wis the kerfuffle.

It wis at this point that ah became aware o thon lassies fae the Art College. They had aw gaithered up aroon the Cowgateheid, an had massed a crowd o hunners o wummen an lassies th'gither. They were startin up chants o "Nae sellin o wifies!" an "Doon wi men!", an haein wee impromptu workshoaps oan 'Raisin yer self-esteem through shoutin' an 'How tae get black-leid oot o yer hankies' A rowdy section o them had hi-jacked a builder's cairt, an were passin oot muckle big stanes an hauf-bricks tae the ither lassies. They were pittin these stanes intae their hankies an shawls, some were drappin their knickers an turnin them intae slings. Then at a loud cry fae yin o them, yin that ah think wis fae Fife, gaun by the beehive hairdo an the yellae leather mini-skirt... ah ask ye... so, they aw come steamin across the Grassmarket, straight at the auction...

Fowk were gettin pushed oot the way, knocked aw ower the shop, by this monstrous creature, formed fae hunners o lairy lassies, screechin like banshees an swingin their knickers abune their heids. Never let onybody tell ye the Grassmarket's gettin awfy rough. It wis nivver ony other way. Ah'm right up fer it by this time, aw the excitement had got tae me, that an the sherry, so ah'm aff wi the knickers an ah'm up an runnin wi them.

"Doon wi men!" ah'm screamin, "Gie us oor hoosekeepin'! Aw ae it! Gie us it noo!" Ah'm haein a rare time tae masel. Some o the wummen hae set upon Jocky an they're giein him a right batterin. Aw o a sudden ah find masel staunin square in front o big Tommy McGuigan, if ah may say so, he's the real villain o the piece. He's the man that thinks he can jist pick up a wumman, an drap her jist as easy if he's no happy wi her. Whit aboot Mary ah say? Where does she gang? Whit dis she dae if he turns her oot? It's nivver the man's problem, is it?

Big Tommy's glowerin afore me like a thunderheid aboot tae burst, an ah've got a hauf-brick in ma haun. Well, the invitation wis laid right oot there, wrapped up in ribbons wi bows oan it, so ah think ah shouted somethin in his face like "This'll learn ye tae sell yer wife ye dirty swine!" an then ah battered him. Flat-oot. Kyboshed...

Ah wis miraculous... ye should've seen ma smile, ye could've hung yer washin oot oan it...

Until he got right back up oan his feet like a Jock-in-the-box an skelped me in the face. Oh. Ma nose wis aw burst, ah'd cut ma lip, the paper said ma een came up like twa October cabbages. No that ye should aye believe whit ye read in the papers, but that goes withoot sayin, ye should see some o the other shite they wrote aboot me. They said ah wis a sweep's wife! Jist cos ah hadnae had a chance tae wash ma face that mornin! Well, ah'd slept in, an ah wis in a hurry tae get ma messages done. Aw the same, ah'll 'sweeps wife' them...

Still,it wis guid o Lachie the Lum tae step in fer me at this point tho, that wis a bonus, ah'll hae tae mind him come Hogmanay. Luckily he had his brushes an poles wi him. He wis jist aboot tae lay intae big Tommy wi his equipment when the Toun Gaird showed up, late oan the scene as ever, an things startit tae quieten doon again...

Ye widnae credit it tho, even efter aw that bother, big Tommy still insistit oan gaun through wi the sale, an it aw startit again fae scratch. Jocky got some young laddies fae the Scouts tae gaird his box fer him, they did it fer sixpence atween them, whit they'll dae fer a bob ah've yet tae find oot. The twa Irishmen dropped oot o the auction at this point cos they said it wis mair bother than it wis worth. First then, this camp auld seaman comes up, an he starts slaverin oan aboot Mary's tarry top-lights, whitever they were, an makin crude references tae her tight riggin. Mary? Tight riggin? Ah've nuthin against the lassie but the only ship ye could compare her tae wid be the Vital Spark! Aw puffin an blawin an nae amount o scrubbin wis ever gaunnae turn her intae a Maid o' th' Mist...

We were aw windin the auld sailor up, jist fer a laugh, afore we set oan him, when up rides this fermer fae Ecclesmachen, oan a white charger... well it wis a horse, he says he's lost his wife tae the pox in September past an he needs a new yin. Here he says, he's got two pound five shillin an could he hae her?

So, £2.25 it wis. £2.25 eh? It's no much is it? Fer a wumman's life. Still, Ecclesmachen's supposed tae be a nice place, an Mary aye said she fancied livin in the country. The last ony o us saw o Mary Mackintosh wis her sittin oan the back o a horse ahint her new man canterin through the West Port wi a muckle big grin oan her coupon, swiggin fae a bottle o Buckfast fortified. Ah hope she settles...

If ye dinnae believe me that this aw happened, jist tak a look at the newspaper. Ah'm tellin ye it wis aw aroon 6 o'clock oan Wednesday the 16th o July, in the year 1828, in the Grassmarket in Embra. Because it wis in the papers awbody wis talkin aboot it fer weeks efter. It's no a night ah'm likely tae forget in a hurry. Tae this day folk are aye comin up tae me an askin how come ma een are sae cabbagey. If ah've got a hauf-brick in ma haun an a sherry in ma belly ah show them...

10 comments:

  1. I'm wondering what an October cabbage is Sophia.....

    You can't half tell a story.

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  2. October's when yer cabbage is at its best, aw green an' reachin' oot its big, green, veiny leaves, wishin' ye tae poach it ower a slow heat fer 20 minutes wi' lashin's o' fresh black pepper, slatherin' it in meltit butter, an' bitin' intae it.

    Ma een must've looked awfy sair.

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  3. Sophia,

    Splendid tale and beautifully told - must say I expected nothing less so I'm glad I popped in! Aleady looking forward to your next epistle!

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  4. Thanks youse, ah hope ah can keep ye entertained, an' at the same time educate ye a bit aboot ma eventfu' life in Embra. If thae setts could talk...

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  5. MMMMMMMM you made me hungry for cabbage now.... (I like it with some lardons through it, nice and crispy.)

    Oh and thanks for the explanations... I see now.

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  6. Christ Sophes, I was reading that and thinking to myself, what age is this lassie? That cannae be her photo at the top surely? I'm glad I managed to get to the bottom to find out the truth!

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  7. Aye, it wis quite a lang tale, ah'll grant ye that Mr Lochnagar, but it wanted tellin'. Ah'll no aye be sae lang-winded. As far as ma age goes, ah stopped countin' years ago. It's only a number efter aw, an' there'll be plenty time tae count when ah'm deid.

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  8. Braw, jist braw. They fowk frae Edinburu ken how tae hiv a ficht. Knicker aff? Widnae happen in Dundee. The wind blaws that much aff the watter.

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  9. Aye Mrs Subrosa, there's mair than yin reason Embra's ca'ed Auld Reekie. Mind the way that wind blaws!

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