me tae get a sleep wae aw that bloody racket gaun oan.”
“Don’t brag aboot it. It could be worse…it could be me listening tae you insteid ae the other way roond.”
She turned o’er and glanced at the clock oan his side ae the bed. Ten past seven. She hidnae heard it gaun aff earlier. Jimmy hid telt her that his body clock kicked in aboot five minutes before the alarm, so he usually switched it aff so as no tae disturb her. Christ...Christmas Eve...whit a thought. She drew the blankets up until they jist covered her nose. She’d get up wance her nose thawed oot, she decided. She looked across the room, searching fur the ootline ae her clothes, which wur stretched across the chair, beside the dressing table. She wis always furgetting tae move the chair closer tae the bed so she didnae hiv so far tae dash in the cauld. It looked like it wis gonnae be her socks first, brassiere, blouse and jumper second and knickers and skirt last...aw in less than thirty seconds flat. She’d then dash through tae the cooker fur a cup ae tea, a fag and a wee bit ae heat, before tackling the grate in the living room. She’d a busy day aheid ae her. She’d tae get Issie up tae the NAB oan Springburn Road and then get back pretty pronto tae prepare fur Mary Porter’s warrant sale. She wanted tae nip oot ae bed tae check if it hid been snowing, bit her thawing nose warned her against daeing something as stupid as that. Snow and warrant sales didnae mix and it wis a right bugger if ye wur trying tae encourage people tae get involved. People could cope wae the cauld if it wis dry, bit seeing the snow drapping doon put people aff fur some reason, apart fae the die-hards like hersel. Snowing jist made her aw the mair determined tae turn up tae show they basturts. It hid been pelting doon wae rain and then the snow hid started during the last wan, alang in Palermo Street in November. The usual suspects ae Issie, Sandra, Cathy, Ann, Mary, Sharon, Soiled Sally, Betty and hersel hid been there, bit that hid been it. They’d thought it couldnae get any worse and then the sale hid gone aheid, wae buyers turning up in droves and emptying Jessie Scanlon’s hoose like a swarm ae locusts. That sergeant wan, the wan everywan called The Stalker, who’d arrested Johnboy and his wee pal…the quiet wan…fur resetting stolen goods, hid hid the cheek tae ask her why they aw bothered because ‘apart fae youse, nae other fucker gies a toss.’ She wis glad the other lassies hid heard him saying that. It hid jist made them aw the mair determined.
“Away and bile yer heid, ya creepy, stalking ghoul, ye. Whit wid somewan, the likes ae you, know aboot anything, eh?” Sharon Campbell hid shouted at him.
“Ah’m only saying, so Ah am.”
“Aye, well, keep yer thoughts and opinions tae yersel then,” Betty hid snarled, false teeth chattering wae the cauld.
“Aye, who cares whit ye think? Ye’re getting paid tae be here, ya clown, ye, so ye ur, so shut yer geggy up and get back tae daeing nothing, where ye belong, ya big lump ae shite,” Ann Jackson hid shouted, tae howls ae laughter.
“Aye, piss aff where ye belong, dick-face. We know whose side ye’re oan, so we dae,” Mary hid shouted at the sergeant’s back, as he’d scurried aff tae join his pal across the street, continually looking at his watch, obviously wondering whit wis keeping the Sheriff officers.
A few days earlier, they’d put up a wee haunmade poster in Salty Tony’s and Sherbet's, trying tae drum up support fur people tae join them, highlighting the fact ae whit wis gonnae happen tae Mary and her weans. Tony and Sherbet hidnae been too keen oan getting involved, bit efter threats ae a boycott oan their overpriced goods, they’d relented. Betty and hersel hid gone and stood ootside The Princes Bingo Hall oan Gourlay Street a couple ae Thursday nights previously, haunin oot leaflets. Maist ae
“Don’t brag aboot it. It could be worse…it could be me listening tae you insteid ae the other way roond.”
She turned o’er and glanced at the clock oan his side ae the bed. Ten past seven. She hidnae heard it gaun aff earlier. Jimmy hid telt her that his body clock kicked in aboot five minutes before the alarm, so he usually switched it aff so as no tae disturb her. Christ...Christmas Eve...whit a thought. She drew the blankets up until they jist covered her nose. She’d get up wance her nose thawed oot, she decided. She looked across the room, searching fur the ootline ae her clothes, which wur stretched across the chair, beside the dressing table. She wis always furgetting tae move the chair closer tae the bed so she didnae hiv so far tae dash in the cauld. It looked like it wis gonnae be her socks first, brassiere, blouse and jumper second and knickers and skirt last...aw in less than thirty seconds flat. She’d then dash through tae the cooker fur a cup ae tea, a fag and a wee bit ae heat, before tackling the grate in the living room. She’d a busy day aheid ae her. She’d tae get Issie up tae the NAB oan Springburn Road and then get back pretty pronto tae prepare fur Mary Porter’s warrant sale. She wanted tae nip oot ae bed tae check if it hid been snowing, bit her thawing nose warned her against daeing something as stupid as that. Snow and warrant sales didnae mix and it wis a right bugger if ye wur trying tae encourage people tae get involved. People could cope wae the cauld if it wis dry, bit seeing the snow drapping doon put people aff fur some reason, apart fae the die-hards like hersel. Snowing jist made her aw the mair determined tae turn up tae show they basturts. It hid been pelting doon wae rain and then the snow hid started during the last wan, alang in Palermo Street in November. The usual suspects ae Issie, Sandra, Cathy, Ann, Mary, Sharon, Soiled Sally, Betty and hersel hid been there, bit that hid been it. They’d thought it couldnae get any worse and then the sale hid gone aheid, wae buyers turning up in droves and emptying Jessie Scanlon’s hoose like a swarm ae locusts. That sergeant wan, the wan everywan called The Stalker, who’d arrested Johnboy and his wee pal…the quiet wan…fur resetting stolen goods, hid hid the cheek tae ask her why they aw bothered because ‘apart fae youse, nae other fucker gies a toss.’ She wis glad the other lassies hid heard him saying that. It hid jist made them aw the mair determined.
“Away and bile yer heid, ya creepy, stalking ghoul, ye. Whit wid somewan, the likes ae you, know aboot anything, eh?” Sharon Campbell hid shouted at him.
“Ah’m only saying, so Ah am.”
“Aye, well, keep yer thoughts and opinions tae yersel then,” Betty hid snarled, false teeth chattering wae the cauld.
“Aye, who cares whit ye think? Ye’re getting paid tae be here, ya clown, ye, so ye ur, so shut yer geggy up and get back tae daeing nothing, where ye belong, ya big lump ae shite,” Ann Jackson hid shouted, tae howls ae laughter.
“Aye, piss aff where ye belong, dick-face. We know whose side ye’re oan, so we dae,” Mary hid shouted at the sergeant’s back, as he’d scurried aff tae join his pal across the street, continually looking at his watch, obviously wondering whit wis keeping the Sheriff officers.
A few days earlier, they’d put up a wee haunmade poster in Salty Tony’s and Sherbet's, trying tae drum up support fur people tae join them, highlighting the fact ae whit wis gonnae happen tae Mary and her weans. Tony and Sherbet hidnae been too keen oan getting involved, bit efter threats ae a boycott oan their overpriced goods, they’d relented. Betty and hersel hid gone and stood ootside The Princes Bingo Hall oan Gourlay Street a couple ae Thursday nights previously, haunin oot leaflets. Maist ae
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