Silly Games … 

She’s in there banging pans
Louder than she needs to
Loud enough to disturb my slumbers
From the couch last night

Fuck off …  I think
Stay or go
Just get fucking on with it
And stop banging my pans

It’s part of the game
Should she stay or
Go
Just fucking go!

Why is she cleaning my kitchen anyway?
Emptying the dishwasher at level 11
She’s somewhere between anger and goodbye
Between stupidity and remorse

Continue reading “Silly Games … “

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Train Stories – Hiya!!

Hiya …

Hiya

I’m on the train …

Can you hear me?

Hi, hi … you’re there .. I’m on the train ..

I’m just arriving at Slateford …. Slateford …

Yes, I’m on the 1749 from Waverley ..

Yes ..

The reason I’m late is because I was up at Tommy’s this afternoon. …

I was up at Tommy’s this afternoon …

Yes darling, it’s not long til I see you again .. The next stops mine .. Can’t wait to see you.

All of the above spoken in the most camp effeminate voice by a small, chubby harmless little man .. Broadcasting his business to all and sundry.

There is something inherent about being on a mobile phone on the train that makes you raise your voice.

Like some comedy spoof .. I’m on the train .. With a huge old school mobile from the 80s.

The wee man was loud, but harmless.

But it was the next thing that I found unacceptable.

The 55 year old sitting opposite him drinking lager from the tin decides to intervene ..

“Tell him what you want to do with him you wee fucking poof”

That’s not what was actually said, but it’s close enough.

At this point theres silence .. No one says a word.

The wee man gets up and walks towards the door with angry man muttering something under his breathe.

I’m glad the wee mans away, it avoids the conflict. I can’t stand bullies and certainly not loud mouthed obnoxious dinosaurs like this one.

If anything more had occurred I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only person to step in.

He was chatting with some young dude for the next 10 minutes, the young guy stuck at the window listening to his drivel from homosexuality to leaving his wife for another woman to .. How he dumped that bitch .. to his collection of Johnny Cash albums.

I could see the young guy searching round for assistance, our eyes made contact for a moment to exchange a knowing glance but he was stuck between the window and a wannabe hard-man.

Fortunately for him, the young dude is getting off at Livingstone.

As he excused himself the dinosaur asks, who will I talk to now .. And looks around the carriage.

I can see him in my peripheral vision, but I ain’t going there .. No way.

Now our two adjacent 4 seat booths are empty .. I can feel his stare as I type.
Continue reading “Train Stories – Hiya!!”

Train Stories – Dwarf!

Well  I have never been so insulted …

Yesterday morning’s commute was a complete nightmare.

I played my part,  woke up early,  wrote a blog at 6am,  then was showered and drove down to Cambuslang for the 8:01 heading east.   This involves a change at Bellshill on to the Edinburgh train.

I usually get into Haymarket just after 9 and a 10 minute walk up to the office and I’m at my desk for 9:15 .. I’m meant to start at 9 .. but only take 30 minutes for lunch and usually work on a bit later .. so it shouldn’t be an issue.

If it is  .. I’m outta here.

Anyway, the train arrives at Bellshill and I’ve bought my ticket to Edinburgh on board.

All good so far …

Until standing at Bellshill the announcement came over that all Edinburgh trains were cancelled.

At this point I’ve just paid a daily ticket of 18 quid and thinking okay,  I’ll get a refund and head back to Cambuslang drive then to Bathgate and jump the 15 minute service from there.

You still with me?

So I’m crossing the bridge to the opposite platform .. then I realised that the platform on that side was exceptionally full of people and I started to have my doubts about getting a train home .. nightmare!

An announcement comes over saying that the next train back the way was cancelled .. much to the annoyance of everyone around me.

I’m thinking this lot are hopeless and I’m not a happy boy.

Being a self-employed contractor,  makes missing work a little more complex .. not only is there a loss of face and potential reputational damage,  but more importantly I can’t just throw a sickie as there is no sick pay and there’s a loss of earnings.

Which is nonsense really,  I’m well paid and the sick pay is already catered for as I’m paid gross.

But still it’s a mind-set and I only miss work if I’m absolutely flat on my back ill .. or absolutely flat on my back because .. well just because!

How come we never call in sick for a good day?

“Hello boss,  sorry I’m not going to be in today,  but there’s this gorgeous girl that I met,  well one thing led to another and .. oh oh oh .. well she’s still here with me now and . oh oh .. and I can’t come in today .. harder harder .. ooooooh!”

Wouldn’t it be good just to say fuck it and have a duvet day every now and then?

But I digress ..

The building which acts as ticket office and waiting room was jam-packed,  people sheltering from the weather and queuing for their tickets or waiting to ask about refunds etc.

At the front of the queue,  there’s this wee man,  5 foot nothing and this with his bobble hat on .. and he’s completely losing it with the poor woman behind the service desk …

He’s letting everyone know that he’s a pensioner and the train being cancelled has caused him to miss an appointment ..

Apparently he’s also an ex-journalist with the Daily Record and Sunday Mail and is going to make sure this incident is in the papers .. although let’s say that his choice of language was much more basic that it needed to be and negated the concept of him being able to put a sentence together on a professionally basis.

The woman behind the desk was a typical wee Glasgow wummin .. 5 foot 2,  about 60ish,  size 24,  heavy breasted,  grey hair and large thick spectacles.   She was short-sighted,  I could tell by the lens and her eyes looked massive.

Apologies for not being more descriptive .. it was only a glance!

Anyhoo,  she reminded me of my mum,  standing there being forced to retain her cool and being polite to this abusive dwarf .. when if he’d spoken to her like that in the street she would have tore a strip off him.

At this point my own feelings of disappointment have dissipated,  there’s nothing like watching someone else lose it for absolutely no reason and take their rage out with someone who isn’t the cause of their issue to make you realise how futile that would be and the woman is only doing her job and has nothing to do with the network failure.

As he turns to walk away he’s shouting his insults and looking for anyone willing to listen to his justifications.

Most people waiting are younger than him .. in fact most people waiting are younger than me!

Lots of young dudes or chicks in their office attire heading to Glasgow .. there’s a few nervous sniggers as his rant continues.

I’m looking past him,  but he’s in my peripheral vision,  he’s hoping to make eye contact with anyone who will listen.

As he gets beside me,  the woman in front,   almost 60,  a slimmer version of the woman behind the desk,   says that there’s no need to be so abusive and the lady is only doing her job.

Good for you .. I think .. and I’m sure that I’m not alone.

“I wasn’t being fucking abusive”  he says and his face turns particularly ugly as it fills with rage,  the blood rushing to his skin and he’s spitting as he speak “It is her fucking fault,  it’s her fault and don’t tell me it’s no”

The woman just looks at him,  dumb-founded,  her face shocked by the anger directed towards her.

I couldn’t help myself  “You were being abusive, you swore at the woman behind the desk,  who is only doing her job and you’re now swearing at this woman who has done nothing to you”

He turns towards me,  his face red with rage .. “It’s got fuck all to do with you”

“You should be ashamed of yourself  .. and it would be something to do with me if you spoke to my mum or my daughters like that”

At this point he stares at me,  maybe if he was younger he might have wanted to have a pop at me.  I can see it in his eyes that he’s not been afraid to clout someone in his younger day.

I’m wary of it,  I can feel the possibility building as he tenses his body,  his face gnarled and twisted with rage,  but it would be ridiculous if it happened,  fortunately after a moment of consideration,  he untightens his knuckles and the muscles in his face relax to his normal ugliness.

“Shut it you English Bastard” He spits at me.

Not only was he wrong,  but he was wrong at the top of his voice.  ( Spencer Tracey – Bad Day At Black Rock )

I just turned away with a smile in my face.

I’m proudly Scottish,  proudly Glaswegian, even proudly British although I voted Yes in the IndyRef.

But how backward are some people when they think that because I can put my point across without resorting to slang or insults that I’m English .. that’s quite sad really.

And can I add .. being English or a been born out of wedlock or both is no insult at all.

PS – The handsome Spencer Tracey in this movie was one of our favourites as kids and we’d watch it in my Granda’s house.  He kinda looked like Spencer,  not just facially with his broad forehead, high cheekbones and strong nose,   but with his greying hair cropped short,  broad shoulders, demob suit and fedora hat.