Night o the swallow

Durin the War, that wid be the Second War, it wis vital that we aw did oor bit fer the country. Ah tried makin a case tae the panel that stair-cleanin wis an integral pairt o the war effort, but they wid hae nane o it, so it wis intae uniform fer me. Ah've nae heid fer heights so the Spitfires were oot, ah'm nae much o a swimmer sae the convoys were oot, an the way ah feel aboot enclosed spaces kicked the submarines intae touch. But ah quite liked the look o the ARP rig-oot, an ma pal Bella Semple said ye got a right laugh wi them. Mind, Bella wis the sort that wid get a guid laugh at Warriston Crematorium. She wis aye gigglin an ticklin yer ribs, nothin ever got her doon. She wis a lady gowfer, an onytime she got a gin-an-tonic inside her she wid kick her legs in the air (she had a tidy pair o ankles) an cry "Dalmahoy!!"

It wis a shame that ah nivver got posted wi Bella, she worked oot o Edinburgh City Control up at Buckstone Drive seein as how she had guid connections through her Uncle Bert, while ah wis pit doon tae Barnton quarry. Here's a wee photie o whit it looks like noo, a bit deid, but it looked better back then when it wis fu o life.

Ah cannae really complain aboot oor lot, we had it easy compared tae some places. The nights aw the bombers passed ower oan their way tae Clydebank were the worst, ye jist kent they were takin a batterin an there wis nothin ye could dae fer them. We had a couple o raids oan the docks, an o course the Bridge wis a big target, but aw in aw we cam aff lightly.

Policin the blackoots wis the major pairt o ma duties. Ah had tae walk aboot wi ma wee slit-torch shoutin at fowk tae shut their doors or fix their blackoot curtains. This yin nicht ah wis patrollin aroon Princes Street, it wis a dark dark nicht, nae moon, an ye had tae be gey carefu whaur ye were walkin. Ah mind passin by the back-end o St John's Church an ah could hear this wierd wheezin an groanin noise, ah couldnae work oot whit it wis, an at first ah thocht it might be a Tardis comin intae land. Yince ah shone ma wee torch ower the railins intae the bushes tho, ah got a better idea o whit wis makin the noise.

Mibbe ah should've stopped them, sent them packin back tae their mammies, but ah didnae hae the heart. They were jist laddies, an they probably didnae ken when they wid get the ca-up tae gang aff tae the fight. In thae days ye took yer pleasures whaur ye could find them...

So ah kept schtum an heided aff alang Princes Street, checkin that aw the cars had their heidlight-dippers oan, an turned up Frederick Street. Ah had jist got past Rose Street when ah felt this ticklin oan ma ankle. Ah yelped, an ma first thocht wis that mibbe it wis a sodjer hidin doon a basement area, waitin tae surprise foxy wummen like masel, so ah cried oot "Stop yer ticklin Jock!" as ye dae. Nae answer. Next meenit ah felt anither tickle, so ah switched ma torch oan an shone it doon at ma feet...

Rats! Big stoaters o rats! An when ah cast the licht aboot ah could see that the pavement wis covered, an the road an aw! There must've been thoosans o them, millions even!

Ye see, it wis at this time that the Corporation were diggin up Princes Street Gairdens tae pit in air-raid shelters, an obviously the rats were movin, en masse, as they say in France, ower tae Queen Street Gairdens. Like as no they wid hae relatives ower there that could pit them up.

Ah'm up oan the railins in a flash, weel, no in a flash obviously fer that wid hae broken the blackoot regulations, but ah wis fast onyroads. If there's yin thing ah cannae stand it's rats, especially at ma ankles. Ah tried screamin fer help, but o course this wis late at nicht an there wis naebody aboot. Ah wis stuck up that lamp-post fer hoors, an aw ah had tae drink wis ma wee hip-flask o sherry. An that didnae last long...

By-an-by tho the rats thinned oot, an ah felt able tae climb doon again. Ah tottered up the street till ah got tae the corner o George Street, shooshin them oot the road, till ah could find a polisman, ah threw masel intae his airms, aw greetin an jibberin so ah wis, an he helped tae get me hame...

The funny thing is, it wisnae lang efter that ma Area Warden cam up tae me an said that stair-cleanin had been re-designated as pairt o the War Effort, an he said somethin aboot me gettin ma bucket oot o his face an gettin back tae ma scrubbin. At least ah think that's whit he said. Humourless wee smout so he wis...