SCOTLAND ZEN and the art of SOCIAL WORK

by J.A. Skinner

  Chapter 19

  Sunday 25th May

  Generally the survival time from the first symptoms is around 20 years. As the disease progresses, poor co-ordination, falls, malnutrition and exhaustion become increasingly serious and death is generally caused by heart failure or pneumonia.

  We walked down Jamaica Street towards the river Clyde. It has turned out a fine sunny day. It’s often like this in May, the best month in Scotland. The journey was such a treat for the children as they very rarely get to go on a train. It reminded me of when we were little and Mam and Dad would organise an outing just like this. A train trip to Glasgow was a real big deal for us, a picnic lunch at the Clyde, a bit of shopping and sightseeing and fish’n chips for the journey home, life didn’t get much better than that. Tommy’s idea today is to take our picnic down to Glasgow Green and tour the Peoples Palace afterwards. Thank goodness I brought the baby buggy for Rosie as it’s too far for her to walk, but too nice a day to take the bus. We got off the train at Central Station and turned into Gordon Street where, it is said, the most beautiful girls in Scotland can be seen. There are certainly a lot of young women strolling about who have cast off their winter togs and are baring arms and shoulders so white they must not have seen the sun for nine months. Some have sandals and painted toenails, making the most of this very short season. I remember a poem quoted by James Cosmo, one of the lines was,

  ‘There’s no more rare and beautiful thing than a Glasgow girl in a summer dress.’ Very true, very rare.

  We walked along Argyle Street almost to the end and turned down Jamaica Street, then we cut through the back streets to Margaret Lane and cross into Glasgow Green opposite the City Morgue and head down to the river. It’s quite busy with small groups of people just like us, carrying bags of food and drinks, looking for the ideal spot to sit and eat and enjoy the sunshine. There are inevitably the usual half dozen games of football in progress with jackets and bags as goalposts and a lot of shouting and falling about. The actual rules of play are sometimes more of a hindrance than help.

  We have been entertained on the journey with John telling Tommy about the party at Khalid’s on Friday night. I got the edited version yesterday when I picked him up after his overnight stay. He was so tired he went back to bed for a while in the afternoon with his book, which made me guess he had been up most of the night. Tommy was suitably impressed with the description of all the women looking like princesses dressed in coloured saris and everybody in their bare feet. John was thrilled by the untidiness of the front hall, full of shoes and presents.

  ‘You know, the kitchen was so full of food they could have fed the whole street, but some of it was so weird, even Rosie wouldn’t have ate it,’ said John.

  Poor Rosie, her indiscriminate appetite is thought of by John as the yardstick for all things edible or inedible. He was also well impressed by Ali who got drunk and threw up in the back garden very noisily and then sat on the back step for a while looking at the stars. John had been able show him a few UFOs he might otherwise have missed. Khalid and John had been asked to supervise the twins in the bath for a few moments while Amy was answering the door to some guests and got paid fifty pence each by Khalid’s father. He got another fifty for handing round some plates of food so he returned from the party a rich man.

  We settled near the water and I unpacked everything. Tommy took John for a macho stroll about to see if they could find a team with a man short they could join in with. John always has his football shorts under his jeans for just such an emergency football situation. I am always amused seeing football by seven and eight year olds. Everyone is given a position but everyone follows the ball. It was so nice of Tommy to suggest this day out with the kids. He said that he was serious about getting to know me better. I had hoped this actually meant sex, but obviously I’m rushing things a bit as he meant spending a day with all of us and getting to know the children a bit as well. As the weather is warm and sunny we are determined to take advantage of it. We peel off the jackets and cardigans. Scottish people yearn for the sun then get fried with the recklessness of over exposure.

  The girls run about near the water and get some stones to weigh down the picnic cover. Some of the stones were more like gravel so we made a design all round the edge of the blanket. John managed to get a game and we watched them from a distance. There seemed to be a bit more shoving than skill needed, so after about ten minutes Tommy called it a day and brought John back to eat before he got injured. As they were walking back towards us Theresa says,

  ‘So then is he really your boyfriend, not your pal?’ She giggles at the boldness of this, and presumably the unlikely chance that Mothers could have boyfriends.

  ‘Right now Tommy is my friend and he’s trying hard to be a friend to you too,’ I say, sounding a bit prim, ‘Boyfriends are silly anyway, they’ll all end up like John and want to talk about football all the time.’

  Theresa agrees and dismisses all men as inferior, good girl, good training for her future.

  We managed to eat all the food and drink almost all the juice. The bags will be immensely lighter on the way home. Rosie and Theresa then decided they would give us a demonstration of what they’ve learned at dancing class this week. For the accompaniment I have to sing ‘When I’m sixty four’. I don’t know all the words but Tommy helps and Theresa leads Rosie in a slow tap routine on the grass. This unfortunately loses most of its effect by being silent tap, nevertheless they look great. Rosie has to concentrate so hard she sticks her tongue between her teeth. Bonnie Langford needn’t tremble but Theresa certainly made a good show.

  After tons of congratulations we all settle down for a quiet time leaning comfortably against each other. I do think the continentals have got it right about having a long break in the middle of the day, especially in the summer. I don’t think the human body was designed to stay awake for eighteen hours at a time. A kip in the day is such a luxury and sets you up for the afternoon and evening. Most mothers force their children to stay awake all day after the age of about three to meet the convenience of getting them to bed early. This probably sounds abusive to French and Spanish parents. It is abusive.

  ‘Tommy, can you tell us a story?’ says Rosie. ‘Go on, we love stories.’

  Tommy looks a bit taken aback but says,

  ‘Oh well, I’ll try, what story would you like?’

  The three of them look at him with slightly puzzled expressions, and then John says,

  ‘Not a story we’ve seen in a book, just make one up.’ No Grimm’s repeats for my kids.

  ‘That’s right Tommy,’ I say, winding him up, ‘my dad used to make up great stories, epic stories and Uncle Mickey’s are the best.’

  He is beginning to look very nervy now, possibly too much pressure, his neck is a bit red and he starts shredding a blade of grass. I almost decide to rescue him when he says,

  ‘I won’t be as good as Mickey as he’s had more practise, but I’ll try my hardest.’

  Bless him. We all shuffle about and get comfy in anticipation. Tommy is leaning against a tree, I am lounging on his left side, and Theresa is lying on her back with her head on his shins. Rosie is leaning on me with John’s feet on her lap. She is practicing tying and untying the laces on his trainers. This is a newly acquired skill and she practices on any foot which will stay still long enough.

  ‘There were these three Roman soldiers camped at the border of Scotland and England. They were an advance scouting party sent by their general to have a look and see what this new country, Scotland, looked like and if it was worth conquering.

  The general had said to them, if this country has sheep and cows and handsome people we may as well take it and have it as part of the Roman Empire. The three soldiers were very tall, handsome and brave; in fact they were not really scared of anything. They’d fought and conquered lots of countries. The most recent one being England which of course had been very very easy. After a bit of initial skirmishing and resisting the Engl
ish gave in and welcomed the Roman army. In return the soldiers built nice straight roads and good houses and bath houses. Because the Romans were very clean, they always built baths everywhere in their empire. The soldiers were called Angelo, Gabriel and Antonio.

  Angelo was the oldest and had been away from home for a long time. He was getting a bit tired of soldiering and missed his Mum back home in Venice. Gabriel was a bit of a show off. He liked to think he was the handsomest and bravest soldier in the whole Roman army. He had been called after a very important angel after all. Antonio was looking for a wife and had looked at a lot of English girls and didn’t fancy them, he was hoping to have more luck in Scotland.

  When they reached just over the border, they climbed some very high hills. When they got to the top and looked over, below them was the most beautiful country they had ever seen before, and remember they’d been everywhere. Everything was green and flowery, and the trees were tall pines, red berried rowans and enormous oaks and birches. There was purple heather and blue bells and red poppies all over the meadows and fat sheep and deer with big strong antlers.

  The soldiers couldn’t believe it, they thought it was magnificent and they rushed back over the hill to their general to make their report. Gabriel was the spokesman, he told the general that it was a great country to conquer and he wanted to volunteer to be the new Emperor of Scotland. A promotion like that would of course mean a big pay rise.

  The whole army gathered itself together to invade Scotland. This went quite well at the start but deteriorated badly when the Romans came across the natives called Picts and Scots who fought viciously and proved impossible to beat. The Romans were not used to this kind of resistance and got a bit fed up with their soldiers being killed and wounded. They decided to cut their losses and only occupy the bottom part of Scotland, and built a wall from side to side to keep the wild natives in the northerly part. They called this wall Hadrian’s Wall.

  They started their usual carry on of building roads and bath houses and making sure everybody was clean. Unfortunately they were constantly interrupted by the wild Scottish people climbing over the wall, fighting the Romans and stealing sheep. I don’t suppose you can strictly call it stealing if the sheep belonged to them in the first place. The poor sheep did not have a clue who was looking after them half the time and they hated being dragged over the wall.

  The Romans got annoyed when the wall started to get damaged so they called a big meeting and voted to retreat some more and just occupy a tiny bit at the very very bottom of the country. Some Romans thought it really wasn’t worth the trouble, so they left and went back home to their Roman towns. The ones who were left built another wall from side to side to try to keep the peace. They called this the Antonine Wall. This was taller and stronger and again it worked well for a while. Eventually the Scottish people just ignored this wall and every so often they sailed wee boats round the two sides of the wall and continued to fight and steal sheep and children, if they were handsome enough. Of all the countries that the Romans had their eye on, Scotland was the only one they couldn’t completely conquer.

  Angelo went home to Venice, and his mother was delighted, Gabriel was promoted and sent to Wales, and Antonio met a pretty girl in Carlisle and got married and lived happily ever after.

  Rosie was sounds asleep, Theresa had gone a little way off to pick daisies within hearing distance but John was still transfixed by the story.

  ‘What happened in Wales? What happened in Venice Tommy?

  ´I’m not sure but I’ll try to find out for next time.’ replied the (very pleased with himself) storyteller.

  Before John could bombard Tommy with a million questions, I suggested packing things up and moving on to the next item on our wee agenda. After a walk through the People’s Palace and a stop for tea for the adults and coke for the kids, we strolled back to the train station. I had had a really nice day. I felt very relaxed with Tommy and he seemed not too freaked out by the kids.

  On the train Tommy and I got to sit together and the kids seemed happy looking out of the window and chatting.

  ´Had a good day?’ asked Tommy.

  ‘Great, I enjoyed it, it was so good of you to spend the time with the kids and the story was amazing, but...’

  ´But what?’ he interrupted.

  ´But… I do worry a bit because of your job that you can’t help analysing us as a family, you know, is this parent getting it right? Will I check for bruises? Are the children emotionally damaged?’

  ‘Don’t be crazy Mags, you’re a lovely Mum,’ he says, and then in a pompous voice ‘In my professional opinion you are a normal family.’ I laugh at this, happy to be normal, but there’s still something on my mind.

  ‘Is this ‘getting to know each other’ going okay?’ I asked, ‘because I wonder if you’ve thought about anything more physical?’ My face is now beetroot.

  ‘I presume you don’t mean jogging and yes I think about sex with you every day,’ he says and looks directly into my red face.

  Rosie appears in front of me and asks if I’m choking on something. I tell her I’m fine and that I was just telling Tommy that the Pope made up the angels after the fall of the Romans so that was just the one wee minor logistic mistake in his story.

  The girls had a burst of energy then and entertained us with an impromptu dance exhibition in the aisle, during which John pretended he wasn’t with us and Rosie nearly fell over every time the train swayed. If you didn’t know better we might have been mistaken for a real family, except that Tommy got off the train at Motherwell and we carried on to Carfin Halt.