The Wee Person

The Wee Person!

So, The Mary gets in the car and looks really edgy the night.  I ask if she’s all right and she says:

“As right as I can be under the circumstances, just shut up and drive!”

Then she starts to puff like a dragon on her dummy fag and asks me ‘how come we’re no doing the normal, Monday thing’? This baffles me because, Me, The Mary and Monday are so far from normal we should start to write about it.  It might even entertain some of our long-suffering family and friends.

She then shares the fact there’s a ‘wee chib’ in her inside pocket, ‘just in case!’ WTF!  Now, me and The Mary have no carried deterrents since 1974 when I lived in the Gorbals and was being courted by a drug dealer.  He was also being courted but that was another story.  I stopped the car and asked what the f*** she was talking about.  Then she reminded me about the scene in The Godfather where Michael Corleone shot the policeman. 

Her plan was to go in first, nip to the toilet; hopefully it was one of the old-fashioned ones, with a lid, like the scene in Trainspotting where they hid the drugs. She would carefully place the bludgeon in the first cubicle.  Then if we needed it, we both knew where it was.  She then stunned me by stating, in all seriousness, it should be me who does ‘the hit’ because no one would expect it from me.  Adding:

“Your tongue's normally your weapon of mass destruction so they won’t expect it.   You usually just bore people to death”.

This had me raging and curious at the same time.  So, I asked her why she chose the 1^st cubicle. Seemingly she’d read an article in The Independent about the cleanliness of public toilets and it advised using the first one because it was normally the cleanest.  She then starts to quote some clever toiletologist: 

“Experts theorise that people tend to skip the first stall in favour of stalls further back to have a little more privacy,”

Dr. Mehmet

I was really shocked about this because I thought The Mary only read The Sun or The Daily Record.  I’m impressed with her choice of ‘rag’ and realise she’s’ not as illiterate as I thought.  I’ll need to be more careful what I say about her now as she might actually end up reading this blog or maybe Paul's book!  

When we eventually arrive at Albion Street The Mary is sweating and jumps out the car.  She's worrying me now, is very jumpy and immediately pulls out her nebuliser and starts puffing like F*** before asking why we would come to a place where we’re well known and familiar.  I explained it’s actually me who’s notorious and she had never been to Guy’s before.  That’s the reason for the secrecy and I’d warned every ‘wee person’ in her house not to say anything. 

It was a surprise!  

Apparently, she thought I’d said we were going to finally meet 'The Wee Man' which was the name of a notorious gangster, Paul Ferris.  We did meet him a few times in the 80s and I always found him to be charming and chatty but The Mary said after watching the film he had a total other side to him.  She's got a cheek to talk actually, having brought her weapon of mass confusion out with her the night.

I suggested an amnesty and she put her jemmy into the glove compartment having given it a good clean with one of my Dettol wipes.  Oh my Lord, I'll end up in the jail...again!  I can sort of explain away the knives in the boot because of the blogging/cooking thing and might just get away with the crossbow but how the f*** do I justify a tool, for which, the main purpose is to force open a door? 

The Mary's preferred Jemmy! 

We had such fun; laughing about the old days and the food reminded us of past family dinners, Christmas, Easter and Birthdays all of which ended up with someone getting arrested in my house.  Steak pie, mince and tatties, haggis, fish and chips finished off with treacle tart and bread and butter pudding were all we needed to remind us of a past life, that was both enriching and chancy in equal measures!

That’s what you get a Guy’s, real, honest food served by wonderful staff who are never too familiar but always available and friendly.  Except the very handsome Blair, to whom I am more acquainted and is my new dancing partner once a month.  On these occasion I go to meet the wonderfully cheery Stuart Churchill, have a wee dance to the music of the very talented Barbara Bryceland in The Wicked Lounge an finally go to bed being thankful for all my wonderful city has to offer, every night of the week.

Maybe one weekend The Mary will get a babysitter and come along to boogie with us.  Hopefully she’ll leave her jammies and her jemmy bar in the house though.  Think I might get her a new one for Christmas though because her other one was left in the toilet in Guy’s; just in case I ever need it.  She’s a great lassie The Mary, always looking after me.  Lastly, I love toilets and might think about becoming one of those Toiletologists; I’d be right good at it!

See you the next time.

Me and The Mary!

Mx