The Confrontation

Oh Hullo there! It's you again, come in come in, sit yersel doon. Oh, afore ye sit doon wid ye pit that kettle oan? Ah wid dae it masel but ah'm a bit wearied. Ah've been sittin here tellin ma stories aw mornin an tae be honest wi ye ah'm right done in. Ye ken, sometimes this storytellin malarkey's like floggin a deid horse so it is. Ah'm a martyr tae ma art so ah am, but then, it's true whit they say, a wumman's got tae dae whit a wumman's got tae dae...

Actually ah shouldnae say that, ah mind ah got intae bother fer sayin that yince. Weel, tae be fair it wisnae actually me sayin it that got me intae bother, it wis the reply ah got an whit happened efter that that did. Oh, let me pit that tea oantae brew an ah'll tell ye aw aboot it.

Noo let me see, this widda been ooh aboot 1904, no, wait a meenit, it wis 1903. That's right, it wis jist a fortnight efter thon Wright Brothers had took their flight in America, an we were aw still buzzin wi the news, no that ah wis buzzin tho, cos if ye mind ah'd awready been fer a fly, but abody ah kent wis buzzin. We wid likely hae been buzzin onyroads, fer it wis Hogmanay, which wis aye a big nicht in the auld toun. Ah wis lookin forrit tae feenishin ma work, gettin the hoose straight, an then heidin up tae the Tron fer the Bells. Ah fair loved the first-fittin, gettin oot the sherry, pairtyin aw nicht, singin alang wi aw the turns, dancin til dawn, gettin loads o kisses aff the boys. But first ah had tae feenish ma work, so ah wis hammerin oan...

Ah had a guid position at the time, daein stairs up alang Regent Terrace up oan the Calton Hill. It wis a nice area, fowk up there kent how tae keep a stair clean. Ah wis scrubbin awa, singin merrily awa tae masel, at the stair ootside number 20 when ah noticed the St Cuthbert's milk float comin alang the street. Ah didnae much care fer the milk-laddie tho, Jimmy Dobbie, big lanky dreep o a boy, his mither stayed up the street fae yin o the lassies ah kent fae the dancin, an she wis yin o thae lippy sorts, aye needlin ye, thocht she wis a cut above, ye ken the sort. Her laddie wis a bit like her an aw...

Jimmy comes by, an ah heard him gettin his joog aff the back o the float an' comin up ahint me. "Ye haein fun there Sophia? Ye've missed a bit there ye ken."

Ah wisnae risin tae him. "Weel, a wumman's got tae dae whit a wumman's got tae dae." says ah. "Aye, an a scrubber's got tae dae whit a scrubber's got tae dae" he comes back. Oh he wis gettin ma goat.

It's likely he wis bashin oan a bit fast cos like me he wis thinkin o the nicht aheid an whaur he wid be seein in the New Year an wha wis gettin his first fit, but that's nae excuse fer whit he did. He swung his joog aroon that fast that he skailt milk aw ower ma fresh-cleaned stair. Oh ah wis beilin! Ah startit layin intae the big eedjit, ca'ed him aw the names o the day. Ah probably shouldnae hae ca'ed his maw a lippy auld mare, but there ye go, ah said it onyway.

He goes runnin back ower tae his float an climbs up, picks up a breid roll, like as no his breakfast, an launches it at ma erse. Ah spun roon an launched back at him - wi ma scrubbin brush!

Weel, ma aim's nae guid at aw, nivver has been, ah've nivver won a sod oan a cocoanut shy, an ah beltit the puir horse slam-bang oan its backside. Up it rears, an taks aff at a gallop alang the street! Up oantae the pavin-stanes it went an the first thing it hit wis the railin ootside number 27. That thump saw Jimmy flyin intae the air, alang wi the maist pairt o his milk.

But that nivver stoapped the nag, an it went careerin alang, till it reached the corner whaur the terrace turns intae Carlton Terrace, whaur it beltit across the road, cairt gaun up oan yin wheel, right intae the rails across fae number 6. Crash! Bang! Wallop! ye could say...

Aw this, mind, is occurrin at 6 in the mornin. Windaes are flyin up aw aroon us as fowk are lookin oot tae see whit the noise is, an number 6 only belongs tae Geordie Mackie, the posh-biscuit manufacturer o the shop oan Princes Street, him that had made biscuits fer the auld Queen, an still made them fer King Edward. His face wis purple, which wis nice fer it matched his language. He had guid reason tae be mad mind, the railins were aw broken tae bits, the cairt wis lyin in pieces, an the horse? Weel ah'm sorry tae say the horse had got an iron railin in the throat an wis lyin deid in the middle o the road richt in front o his front door.

There wis hell tae pay right enough, an a bill o £4/5/- intae the bargain. Jmmy got intae an awfy bother an had tae pay this oot his wages fer the next ten month fer no lookin efter his horse. Ah got let go an aw, but ah wisnae that bothered, there's aye stairs need cleanin, an it saved me the climb up that hill every mornin. At least ah had a story tae tell ma pals that nicht when it cam tae daein ma wee turn at the New Year's pairties.

An if ye're wonderin why ah stuck that sign oan the horse, it's because we were jist up the hill fae the North Back Canongate, an the fowk doon there were awfy puir an mair than a wee bittie rough. The sort that wid flog a deid horse if they got a chance...

Ach look, ah've went oan that lang ah've stewed the tea. Pit that kettle oan again wid ye?

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...

Deeper Understanding

Oor wee toun o Embra's been hame tae mony a great mind ower the years, an nane greater than the 'eminence grice' that wis Davie Hume. Born up the Lawnmarket in 1711, this wee laddie wis sae unco bright an sharp-mindit that he uptook a place at the University when he wis bare ten year-auld. Can ye imagine ony o oor wee tykes fae the present day bein sae keen oan the learnin when they've got their X-boaxes an their Nintendos tae amuse thersels wi? Ah cannae see it masel.

But study the lad wid, an study weel he did, an by the age o twenty-six he had produced his 'Treatise oan Human Nature' which ah'm telt is yin o the foundation stanes o Western philosophy. Ah say ah'm telt it is fer try as ah may ah couldnae get past the first chapter. Let's jist say its a bit oan the dry side, an some o the words he uses are awfy awfy lang...

Ah'm nae alane in this, fer it didnae exactly set the heather alicht at the time, it nivver selt, an Davie eventually had tae tak up tutorin rich bairns tae earn his livin. Still, he worked up his thoughts, kept oan at the scrievin, an in time he wis grantit the acclamation he deservit. Noo part o the reason he wisnae popular cam fae the fact that the man wis - God forbid - an atheist. There werenae mony o us aboot at the time, an them that there were tendit tae keep it tae thersels. But no oor Davie. In fact, no lang efter the '45 he published his deeply atheist work 'An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding' which upset the kirk sae much he wis charged wi heresy! The ony reason he got aff wi it wis by arguin that, seein as he wis an atheist, he lay ootside the kirk's jusrisdiction! Clever laddie. Lucky laddie tae, fer it wis ony a few year afore this that Tam Aitkenheid, a right smart-alec student up at the University, had got hissel hung jist fer sayin Christianity wis a lot o keich. Served him right tho, ah nivver took tae the jumped-up wee nyaff...

Anyway, tae ma wee story. Yin sunny morn ah wis takin the air wi ma pal Jean an we were walkin the Lang Dykes, which used tae run alang Barefoot's Park jist up fae the Nor Loch. They were layin oot the New Toun at this time, an the Lang Dykes wis soon tae become St Giles' Street, or at least it wis supposed tae become St Giles' Street, till auld King George stuck his neb in, said we couldnae cry it that name fer there wis a slum area in London toun cried that an could we no cry it efter his sons, the bonnie princes? So, Princes Street it became, an Princes Street it still is. Interferin auld bugger so he wis.

We were daunerin alang when we spied a commotion doon in the loch. Noo, tae pit ye in the picture the Nor Loch wis still a big feature in thon days, it hadnae been drained yet, an filled the vale atween the Old an New Touns. It stretched fae whaur Ramsay Gardens stauns noo, doon tae past whaur the North Brig had no lang been built, an it must hae been aboot fower hunnert feet wide in the middle. It wisnae awfy deep though, an jist doon the hill fae the Lawnmarket there wis a sortae steppin-stane-brig across the loch. Geordie Boyd the draper fae Gosford's Close had startit it when he couldnae be bothered walkin aw the way doon the High Street tae the North Brig tae get across tae see the new works, it wis kent as Geordie Boyd's Mud Brig. In time of course it got bigger an bigger an ye'll ken it th'day as the Earthen Mound, on tap o which staun the twa Art Galleries.

Fae whit we could see, some auld bloke had been tryin tae cross the mud brig, slipped or tripped, an tumblit intae the loch. Noo that's somethin ye widnae want tae dae fer it wis a stinkin myre at this time, back in the days o 'Gardy Loo!' an aw the piss an shit fae the auld toun found its way doon the closes an wynds an intae the loch, it wis in effect an open sewer. So we ran doon tae see if we could help the puir auld man.

We got doon there, an as we were nearin we could see that the auld bloke wis that fat he couldnae get hissel up. He wis lyin oan his back in aboot three inch o smelly foul water, yelpin an greetin an cryin 'Help me, ah cannae get up, help!'

It wis Jean that first noticed that the man wis Davie Hume. He bided up Mylne's Court at the time, but he wis biggin a new hoose at St Andrews Square, yin o the first in fact, an wis oan his road ower tae see how the work wis progressin. Jean an I had been, er, partakin o a wee refreshment fae ma hip-flagon o sherry afore this an we were in a jestin mood, so ah cam up wi a wee jape tae amuse wersels. We baith pit shawls ower oor heids an pit oan like we were fisherwummin fae Newhaven, aw rough-like, a bit like yer chavs an chavesses o the present day.

"Whit ye waantin Mister? Ur ye aawright thair? Ur ye waashin yur herr? Div ye waant a wee drinkie innit?" that sortae thing. Jean wis puirless laughin by this, then ah went oan "Wid ye likie a wee haun up? Tell us the Lord's Prayer an the Creed an we'll see whit wee kin dae fur ye!" me kennin he wis an atheist an aw. Ah think it wis aboot this pynt that Jean doublet up laughin an ah'm sure ah heard the tinkle o pish...

Tae the man's credit tho, he lay there oan his back in the dirty water, shut his een, an recitit the prayer an creed, an sae yince we had composed oorsels we hitched oor skirts up, waded in as dainty as we could manage, an hoisted auld Davie tae his feet. Puir auld sowel, he looked a sicht. Ah'm thinkin he must've drunk some o the water when he fell in the loch, fer ah heard that he telt this story tae a pal o his efter this, an described us 'Newhaven fishwives' as "the maist acute theologians ah ever did meet" an the bold man only went an convertit tae Christianity fae that day forth! Bit o an ain goal that if ye ask me, haein spent maist o ma life tryin tae convert fowk the ither way roond! Ah suppose ye cannae win them aw.

Ah'll no bore ye wi ma tales much further, exceptin tae add a wee dessert. A few month efter this occurrence Davie had bigged an moved intae his new hoose. As ah telt ye it wis yin o the first in the area, an the streets hadnae been furnished or named or onythin. Ah had been carousin up the High Street this yin nicht wi ma pal Nancy Ord, her faither wis a big-wig, somethin tae dae wi money, an he wis a Baron, but Nancy wisnae stuck-up like some o them, she wis a rare terr oan the swallae, an me an Nancy were stoatin back doon the road tae Leith when we happened tae be passin by Davie's new hoose. Ah mind sayin tae Nancy aboot Davie's Holy Conversion an how we should commemorate it somehow, an next thing Nancy gets a bit chalk oot her handbag, said somethin aboot aye keepin a bit haundy, but her airms were ower short, so ah climbed up oan the railins ootside his front door, an wrote "St David's Street" oan the side o his hoose.

Ah heard that Davie's auld hoosekeeper-cum-cook Peggy Irvine wis beilin aboot this the next day, she thocht it wis barefaced vandalism, but Davie, bein the tolerant auld sook he wis, jist said "Never mind lassie, many a better man has been made a saint without knowing it"...

Intit funny how some jokes stick, lang efter ye've finished laughin at them? The cooncil cam along, saw ma wee bittie grafitti, an thocht that wis the street's official name an painted it oan, so St David's Street it remains tae this day...

Under the ivy

Ye wid think, wid ye no, that Edinburgh's New Toun wid be a grand place tae bide. Aw thae sweepin crescents, wide open boulevards, an elegant spacious apartments. As soon as it wis bigged it became the residence o choice fer aw the high-an-michty o Embra toun. Fae the sainted David Hume doonwards, the cream o Embra came flockin ower that big new North Brig tae stake their claim tae a wee bit o the Enlightened City. Enough they had had o smelly closes an draughty entrys, they wanted tae fu their lungs wi guid fresh air, an be thought o as civilised, as polite, as rational.

That aw sounds fair enough, ah hear ye say. How could ye argue, how could ye no want tae follae them? How could ye resist the lure o thae clean modern lines an that pleasant architecture?

Easy. Ah wid raither get a slater stuck up ma nose than bide there, but tae explain why ah'm gaunnae hae tae take ye a wee dauner doon the hill, doon guid auld Leith Walk.

Here. Take a haud o ma haun. The roads are awfy busy roon here these days, an ye've got tae watch ye dinnae fa doon yin o thae holes they keep diggin. They're busier than they were three or fower hunner year ago, when this street wis ca'ed Leith Loan. Back then there were nae tenements or shops, jist a rough road atween fields, wi mibbe a wee sma'holdin' here an there, an auld man in a boat, an a couple o kye lowin at us as we pass by. This wis the straightest road fae Embra tae Leith. No the main road, that wid be the Easter Road, but the road folk wid tak if they were oan fit, which ah aye wis. Nae cars, nae buses, nae tramcars, jist folk traipsin up an doon fae city tae port...

But, hing oan, whit's that ower there? ye say. Whit's that dark, ominous object swingin fae thon stand oan that wee hill? ye say.

Where? Oh that? Weel that wee hill wid be ca'ed the Gallow Lee, jist up a bit fae the Shrubhill, an aye, that shape hingin there's an auld corpse. Ye see, oor lords an maisters, in their wisdom, thocht it wid be a rare laugh tae hing miscreants in the maist obvious an public spots they could find. Doon oan the Shore, up at the Mercat Cross, doon in the Grassmarket, or right by the Loan. They wid use the Loan fer hingin when they were worrit aboot 'crowd control', when they were feart o riotin in the High Street. Many o the Covenanters ended their days up oan the Gallow Lea, includin auld Major Weir, an then they jist left them there tae dangle in the wind, swingin there as a warnin tae us aw tae behave oorsels. Swingin there fer the craws an ither birds tae feed oan...

Efter a time, yince the craws had had their fill, they wid cut the bodies doon, burn whit wis left, an bury the ashes on the sandy hill.

Here. Ah can see ah've upset ye, ye're lookin a bitty green at the gills. Let's nip intae the Half-way Hoose fer a wee cup o tea. Thae days may seem gruesome tae us lookin back, but at the time it was par fer the course, aw pairt o life's rich tapestry as ye might say, an complainin wid only get ye locked up in the Tolbooth. Or worse.

Are ye awright? Yer tea hot enough? Wid ye like a wee piece oan cheese tae go wi that? Fine then, ah'll get oan...

Noo. When Big Geordie Drummond had his great idea, tae extend the city oot tae the north, an create a 'New Town', he had tae cast aroon fer buildin materials. Maist o the stane wis dug oot fae thon enormous quarry doon at Craigleith, where noo stauns a huge shoppin centre. Beautiful clear sandstane by the ton wis hewn oot by big brawny navvies, an cairted up tae Barefoot's Park, where they were layin oot the Princes' Street. But lo! Whit were they gaunnae use tae stick aw thae stanes th'gether?

Well. Did they no go an find a sandy hill, dig oot aw the sand, an mix it up wi lime tae make mortar? Are ye still wi me? That's right, they dug up the Gallow Lee, alang wi aw thae ashes, mixed it up fer cement, an bigged the New Toun!

Aw through oor World Heritage Treasure run the remains o martyrs, miscreants, an common criminals, hung an then hung oot tae dry, pecked tae bits by craws an daws, burnt tae cinders, then mashed up wi sand an slaked oan the very stanes that tae this day hae folk open-moothed in awe at the 'grandeur' at the 'magnificence' at the 'beauty' o Edinburgh's New Town.

Gie me ma wee tenement doon at the Shin o the Walk. Ah'll no be daein wi bits o the deid pepperin ma wa's. Ah like tae be able tae sleep at night. Noo awa hame wi ye. Ye'll hae had yer tea...