Glasgow Guide Home

Whats On Glasgow Guide
  Glasgow What's On


    Glasgow Reviews


    Glasgow Gallery


      Glasgow Links
Discuss | Guestbook | Postcard | News | Weather | Feedback | Search | About | What's New
Glasgow Guide Discussion Boards

Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )                >> View Today's Topics <<

55 Pages V  « < 53 54 55  
Reply to this topicStart new topic
> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post 4th Aug 2020, 11:20am
Post #811

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 910
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
My Chronicles 04/08//2020;

The mind is simply complicated

The important reason for taking a spin, in the old jalopy yesterday afternoon, was to visit Aunt Becky in her old folk’s newbuilt dementia home. It was the first official sanction, regrettably allowing only one person, appropriately veiled, to visit the large communal garden… warned no presents of any kind because of the naughty virus risks. I stayed in the car listening to McLevy, as Rebecca was escorted by a masked attendant, around the back of the building to see Becky.

Just some fifteen minutes later, Rebecca returned, in an emotional mood, taking time to compose herself before telling how Aunt Becky is not only very frail, but sat with her eyes closed, flouting her surroundings. She did awake when her personal assistant asked Becky if she knew who this is? pointing to Rebecca. Quick as a flash she retorted, “I don’t know her, or anyone here, and I don’t like them!”, then as quickly…shut her eyes again, ignoring everything around. We have great faith in the careful attention the home staff are giving Aunt Becky.

Apart from dodging the rain, my main task is painting the extending garden fence, longer than remembered and it needs two, perhaps three coats. I feel like huckleberry Finn’s grandfather…knackered, while Aunt Polly keeps her beady eye, making sure there’s no skipping off to meet up with the likes of crafty Tom Sawyer, or the judge’s daughter. Truth be told there is only two Becky’s for me.

The raw skill I possess makes me ponder in the mind, if such artistes, of the caliber of say, Vincent Willem van Gogh , Monet, Pissarro, the main man Leonardo da Vinci… and the almighty number one, Michelangelo, famed for painting ceilings and walls. Did they all do such menial stokes around my age? Conceivably, they served their internship from an incredibly early age, rather than a duff old timer, who akin to the Michelangelo, doesn’t want to, but now, seemingly taking as long with my personal ‘Sistine Chapel’.

Stop Press…news just in, Emma our granddaughter, Nikki’s daughter, has passed her exams with flying colours, which gives Emma a ticket into Aberdeen University, to study Biology and Cytology…magic…pure dead brilliant…for this is what she is pining to do.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 7th Aug 2020, 07:17am
Post #812

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 910
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
Beyond words

The elderly lady shuffles along the uneven pavement alongside the busy road, heading for the traffic-lights, then hurry to the shops, desperately needing messages ,including slice sausages. Harry loves a bit of sausage, bacon, and lovely corn dobby, makes a rare sandwich in the middle of the night. Does the trick when she cannot sleep for worry. Then thinking to herself, she’s being a silly old fool, Harry will keep her safe. .

With eyes keen for her age, sharply squints around and reminds herself, better get her skates on, hoping she doesn’t meet Mrs MacBride, for she is a gossip, bad mouths everybody and everything. Good, no sign of her, nervously has a swatch behind, relieved she is not being followed. She knows her Harry will call her a ‘silly billy’ when she gets back home. Once the key is secured behind the new mortise locked door, then both of them will be all right… snug as bugs on a rug. Arriving at the post, where you press the button, wait for the wee green man, before stepping out onto the road

A wee laddie is idly at the Zebra crossing, stopping her four wheeled trolley from rolling any further, giving her time to gather her breath. He gives her a smile as she thought, ‘he does not look like one of nasty hoodlums, who broke into our house when I was out last week. Lucky, I had Harry with me…or he might have been hurt, or worse still, thrown out into the street’. The place was in a real stooshie, the mawkit middens even peed on the kitchen table, near scunnered her. Promising Harry, they’ll not catch her napping this time, buying an expensive double drop mortise, paying a real joiner to install it. She recalls telling Harry, ‘you can’t put a price on safety’.

The lights change as the old lady darts across at such a speed, she leaves the lad standing, arriving in the nyaff supermarket like a hurricane. She would much prefer to shop in individual shops; however, the high street is full of sad empty premises, while the once family butcher Harry likes is gone somewhere, but not local. She scoots around the shelves, hardly looking at the well-publicized cheap bargains, to tempt the sodie-heid shoppers.

Racing through the till section, then marches, runs along the well-worn street heading for her home, and back to the flat. She worries leaving Harry alone in the flat, however the chippie said the door was like fort Knox ….Guaranteed. I hope he’s right’ she felt as she entered the close, with her heart thumping ten to a penny

To her relief the front door was intact. She enters the home, calling on Harry, to let him know she is out of harm's way. Locking the double- drop, starts packing her messages away and makes the tea. With her favourite slippers, sits down next to where Harry is and relaxes. ‘Told you handsome I’d be back in two handshakes and a jiffy… and so I am’, she whispers as she fondly, and gently picks up, from the new coffee table…a photograph of her darling late husband… Harry.
-----------------
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 9th Aug 2020, 07:06pm
Post #813

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 910
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
American Swings.(5) The Tank

Young Hector longed for a racing bike, so with good intentions, his sister asked a blacksmith to come up with a suitable, but sturdy bicycle. When the cycle was delivered to her home in Whifflet, Hector was over the moon, seldom separated during his summer stay, other than the essentials such as food and sleep. It was a real heavy machine, but how it could take a bashing, for walls and lamppost did not dent the rough cast, or even a scratch or scrape the blackest of black paint which ruled it’s chasse. Hector struggled to lift his tank, even with his whole body braced for the task, bending down to heave it off the ground ,carrying it on his shoulder, but only short deliberate steps, then plonk it down, with great relief.

Although Hector’s fondness for the cycle had not diminished, during that season, he was slightly envious because several boys in the area flaunted pedal-power racers, with gears. Hector’s black machine boasted two gears…his legs, and one of them was slightly askew. Even so, his bike opened up freedom being only a leg push away, and boy…was it not grand sticking an empty fag packet between the spooks, kidding it was a motor bike anywhere in the world. But those 6 gear racers were modern fast and fancy. One birthday boy boastful how his father had laid out a fortune for a Lightweight brand- spanking new, brightly painted, which could be lifted from the ground, to way above his head, by one small pinkie.

The boys as a clan, always aimed for the forbidden glen. The mere fact it was prohibited, was a magnet enough to give courage even to the mamma’s boys. It was not far from the square in Whifflet, but to young eyes, it was the huge wide-open outback, where they built a den someplace few had tread before. The North Calder ran right through their Glen, just under the A8 road high above a deep unknown waterhole. With each visit, the empty-headed team had a constant dare. For just beyond the murky pool, a steep path all around, winding in and out of the trees willy-nilly, used by young supple bikers as an obstacle course, to prove their bottle.

This time Hector was first through not to swift…but safely without a scratch, after scudding a tree or two, with his Black tank. The other boys were not so fluky. Most came away with slightly buckled front or rear wheels and scratch frames, but repairable. Unfortunately, the one who came a real cropper was the birthday boy; his prize was laying at the bottom, half in and half out of the aged waters. Both wheels were warped, beyond restoration, not knowing they should be round, but worse of all, the frame twisted in all direction other than the right way.

After limping home… the clan didn’t see the birthday boy for a week or so, and it was rumoured he had learnt a harsh new meaning for ‘Spanking.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post

55 Pages V  « < 53 54 55
Fast ReplyReply to this topicStart new topic

 



RSS Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 12th Aug 2020

All material in the site Glasgow Guide is copyright of the Glasgow Guide Organisation. This material is for your own private use only, and no part of the site may be reproduced, amended, modified, copied, or transmitted to third parties, by any means whatsoever without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. All rights reserved.

Glasgow Hotels: book cheap hotels in Glasgow online now.