Symphony in blue

Ah've aye got oan weel wi the polis. Ah wid aye hae a cup o tea ready waitin fer them if they were thirsty, ah wid pynt them in the direction the criminals had run, even if they werenae chasin ony, an ah wis aye at the ready tae blaw oan their whistles fer them. Some o ma freenemies used tae say ah wis a wee sook, but ah jist thocht ah wis bein a guid law-abidin citizen masel. Of course, ah wis right in wi them oan account o ma pal Jean D'Armerie, he had jyned up wi them the meenit they formed in Embra, an he even made his ain uniform, tho ye'll be gled tae ken it wisnae in rid silk. Ah'm gled masel fer he wis meant tae be savin his rid silk fer me!

Some days, ye ken whit Embra weather can be like, Jean wid come up tae ma hoose soaked tae the skin, an it wid tak three, sometimes fower sherries an a guid rub doon tae dry him oot. It wisnae fair, ah used tae say tae him, makin him walk up an doon Leith Walk in aw weathers, wi naewhere tae hide, sae ah wis gled tae read in the paper aboot this new-fanglet idea fae England where they wid gie the polis a wee box tae staun in oot o the rain, an it wid e'en hae a wee kettle fer their tea an a wee phone in it, if they wantit tae ca some biddy up fer a wee blether.

Ah wisnae ower-chuffed tho when ah actually clapped een oan the thing. It wis jist an auld type-40 Tardis! Ah thocht tae masel we cannae be haein thon monstrosities appearin aw ower Embra, fowk'll be thinkin there'll be Doctors turnin up oan every street corner, playin havoc wi the timelines an threatenin Blinovitch limitation explosions aw ower the shop! (Though tae be fair Sylvester Pangloss assures me this ony happens wi Brigadiers, but fowk can get awfy feart regardless) So ah mindit masel tae pit a stop tae it...

Lucky fer me ah kent whit oor Chief Constable luiket like at the time. Roddy Ross wis the spit o the King, this bein the early '30s an the King bein auld King George V. Ah also kent that Roddy bidet up Calton Hill, whaur ah used tae dae the stairs. He had no lang moved fae Whisky Raw (that's Royal Terrace if ye want its Sunday name) roon the corner tae Regent Terrace. Every time ah went up there ah had tae pass the scene o that accident ah telt ye aboot, an ma cheeks burnt every time. Puir auld nag...

But gang up there ah did, every chance ah got, an ah wid hing aboot ootside number 28 till Roddy showed face, an then ah wid chase him doon the street shoutin at him that he must be mad if he wantit tae bring thae blue English monstrosities tae oor streets. Tae start wi he wid stop an talk, wi his funny Teuchter accent, an he offered tae follae the Glesca example an paint them aw rid. Ah tried ma best negotiation technique an offered tae accept them if he paintit them pink, but he jist walked awa, an efter that he wid run as soon as he saw me...

Efter aboot twa month o this ah wis gettin tired o it aw, an ah couldnae be botheret wi climbin that hill every day, sae ah thocht ah had better settle wi the man. Ah waited till he cam oot his door this day, an a waved ma hankie tae show him ah wantit tae treat wi him, so he stopped tae talk. Ah suggestit tae him that he could bring his wee boxes tae Embra, jist sae lang as they fitted in wi aw oor bonnie Neo-classical architecture, an ah wis fair pleased when he said he wid get oantae it right awa. Ah think he wis tired tae, o aw the runnin awa fae me!

Roddy got in touch wi the Corporation, an they pit wee Ebeneezer McRae, the City Architect, tae work oan giein us a box that wid complement oor streets an buildins, an that's how Embra came tae hae its unique Tardises, though tae me they look suspiciously like type-69s. Ah aye had ma doots aboot wee Ebeneezer...

It's funny, well it's no really but ah'll tell ye onyroads, but Roddy wis Chief Constable o Embra fer gaun oan 35 year, an in that time he made great changes tae the safety o Embra's streets, bringin in automatic traffic lights, speed-cobbles, zebra crossins, aw sorts really. Ah say it's funny cos yin day in '34 ah happened tae be up Regent Terrace, ah wis oan ma way tae lay some flooers, an ah saw Roddy comin oot o his front door, so ah shoutit an startit tae run taewards him, jist wantin tae thank him fer his work. Weel, did he no gie a funny wee yelp, tak tae his heels, run richt oot oantae the road, an got hit by an Empire breid-van!!

Post-script:- Ah thocht ah wid add yin o these, ma first, fer a ken some o ye dinnae aye look at the comments, but Mr Conan the Librarian seems tae think ah might hae somethin tae dae wi paintin Polis boxes pink. Ah wid love tae be able tae pit ma hauns up an tak responsibility, but ah'm afraid ah cannae, ma back pit me oot o the decoratin business years ago. Ah'm chuffed tho that there are ither fowk in Embra wi a bit o taste an' a sense o fun, it's jist a shame they've no got roon tae daein the rest o the boxes, fer some o them are sorry sichts th'day. Mr Conan, pit yer hauns oot, ah want tae check under yer nails fer pink paint...

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...