Give me a Reason to Climb out This Hole

Let it be said that this 'ere be th' testament o' a true scots rebel. 31st kin 2018

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Beer, Loathing and Air Piracy

Ca’ me Demian.

Ah’ve drank well oan this story o`er the years.

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We r i people

Ma legs were shakin’ under the table as the community hall filled tae capacity in front a mae. A wiz reminded a midnight mass in the seventies except that a wiz at the tap table, and the priest wiz among the congregation. This memory came back tae me as a read wan a the flyers blowin’ aroon’ the car park where the lock up garages wir bein’ demolished. "NO SHERIFF OFFICERS" wiz the bold message they told, n it star'l'd me ae think how long they'd been layin there undisturbed.

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Because Ah Matter

Like a rat up a drainpipe I shot back out that school gate lik’ the devil was on mah tail. This wasnae mah gig and ah wasnae unpacking. If ah was gonnae engage in education anywhere, it wasnae here. Ah totally had the fear and the battle lines between me and mah maw were drawn. Day in, day oot, ah was frogmarched through the gate as invisible anxiety stirred within. Opposing the forces at play, ah shot right back oot it.

“Get back here!” Gangley Gibson with the protruding teeth stomped a path towards me.  

“It’s no happenin!”

“We’ll see!”

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Oh! I know where to begin. The minute I saw the word rebel I thought ‘not me’ but then, after a while, I thought ‘yes me’.  I’m a wee bit of one of them.

But it goes back to last century, when I was young, say about ten or eleven-ish.

‘In them thar days’ we played ‘roon the doors in wee gangs.’

We didnae hae many toys – if ony – so we made oor ain entertainment.

An’ ken whit? Yin o’ the gemes we played wis ‘Kick Door Run Fast’.

Noo, ye kinda hae tae bide whaur there’s buildins. That’s Boness’s wurd fer tenements, ken – Glasgie’s tae fer that matter.

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