The Jakit, Mysticism n PPK Resurrection

The Boys Brigade wis on a Friday night up oor bit. Ma maw said that they put it on then tae keep boys aff the streets cos the weekends wur mad here. We wur in Anchor Boys in the church hall n somebody opened the door n flung a firework in. It flew across the floor n exploded against the back wall. A thought it wis quite excitin but the boys standin nearest it wur greetin n the leader wuman said they got some fright. The polis came n aw that, so they did. There wis a big UVF 1690 spray-painted on the wall ootside n there wis always broken glass in the lane. Yi used tae pass a gang ae troops standin at the toll wae green bottles wae yella labels n wae lassies aw laughin n carryin on. We used tae go tae Sunday School in the same hall tae learn aboot the bible n aw that. A remember askin a teacher tae explain Christ’s atonement in mare detail, like expand it oot kinda thing. How did Jesus die for oor sins? Like, why but? N they said, cos he just did n A left confused n unsatisfied. It is complicated stuff tae explain, right enough. It wis in Sunday School we received the first subtle messagin aboot social stratification. Heaven doesnae discriminate. Angels appear tae shepherds n Magi n maybe even tae boys or girls wae an extra stripe on their trainers. We dressed up as donkeys n wise men in the nativity but still remained oblivious tae redemption n salvation. A broke ma VL in the hall at a disco absolutely smothered in Lynx Voodoo wae a DJ playin aw the eld bangers like PPK ‘Resurrection’ n aw the wee burds came heavy dolled up. Panda pops, Frosties n Spicy Bikers tuck shop material. Some howl.

First thing in the Company Section fur elder boys wis a trip tae the Isle ae Arran. We hud the school camp just before it. A marched aboot Dounans in a pair ae black Cat boots n a pair ae DPM poly-cotton army troosers wae the school. Ma feet wur rid raw... so fur this wan, ma maw said A needed proper walkin boots n took me tae Tiso in Stirling tae hire a pair. The madness ae the streets hud awready started. A hud ma eye on a Berghaus Mera Peak jakit, no fur hill walkin but fur kickin aboot wae the young team. A chanced ma arm n said, Mum, this Goatfell is a meaty peak, yi hear me! A need a proper jakit fur this ... nane ae yir Peter Storm. A need all-mountain protection! Absolute wee patter merchant. Ma maw, pragmatic wuman as ever, asks me... how much is a Berrghis? A always laughed at the way she pronounced it. £250 they wur. She just laughed n started talkin aboot plastic ponchos n aw this. A’m like, Maw, A’m an Airdrie boy, no Pocahontas! We’re drivin back fae the toon n A spy an outdoor shop n it says OUTDOOR WORLD – BIG DISCOUNTS! A’m pointin oot the passenger windae, MAW! Outdoor gear on the cheap, mone! Ma maw rolls the brief aff the motorway n we bounce intae the discount warehouse. There it is. The holy grail. £225 fur a blue Mera Peak. Ma maw remains dubious aboot the price, obviously blissfully unawares ae the profound cultural significance ae such a jakit. It wis pure gang fashion in the early 2000s. Cos A’m going tae the BB camp on Arran she agrees n gits me it. Buzzin wisnae even the word.

The day comes n everybody is in the wee hut in Corrie gittin geared up n ready tae smash aw 2867 feet ae Goatfell. It’s a meaty wee Corbett. We wur headed up the front, then we wur marchin along the Saddle ridge, droppin down intae Glen Sannnox via the wee dodgy rocky chimney at the back, beneath the mighty pyramid ae Cìr Mhòr, then haufin it back tae the waitin minibus fur exfiltration. Wan ae the leaders remarked at the Berghaus jakit. ‘That’s a cracking bit of kit, Graeme!’ A just laughed n replied A’m no wearin that, yi mad?! The hallowed Mera Peak wis too precious tae be rollin aboot hills wae it, gittin it aw filthy n that. A pulled on a cotton Air Max hoody n a Rangers scarf n headed oot the door, only tae be absolutely soakin n freezin later. Wit a fat trek it wis. We got tae the tap ae the Saddle, which is, by any stretch ae the imagination, an alpine environment wae dramatic rocky faces n deep glens on either side. A pair ae eagles fly through the air, callin tae each other n A swear tae God, A didnae know the world could be that beautiful. Or, in fact, A did, but A hud kinda forgot. We completed the mish n got back in wan piece n the next week a quit the BBs. That Friday night, A hud ma Mera Peak on fur real n we aw stood in the woods in the dark n the wet drinkin Buckfast n smokin fags n ma mind went tae the trip n the lads back in the hall. Maybe thinkin choices ir conditioned by moral deities is a mystic world view. A find it hard tae fathom they irnae, when yi think ae where the snakin paths lead. A swallow the feelin, but it goes doon bitter.

Sixteen years later, A bang intae wan ae the officers. A tell him A never forgot the Arran trip n leavin wis wan ae ma biggest regrets. Later that night, he sends me the pictures fae the camp that A hud never seen. A look so young n daft in them. People would say constant, yi just got in wae the wrong crowd or yi took the wrong road, son. Others say everyhin happens fur a reason. They say there ir nae wrong roads, predestination n aw that. This wisnae the hero’s journey. This wis the bad path wae the anti-heroes. A wis wan ae them. Eventually, we would gee the lads walkin past us in their smart uniforms a hard time n bam them up fur no runnin aboot wae the troops. A imagine an alternative scenario where A hud walked past maself n intae that hall, rather than standin doon they dark wids, drinkin wine in the pissin rain. Things might huv been different. Grin n bear it, cos they wurnae. It’s this place tae blame, some people say. Wis it a series ae complex sociological n cultural phenomena n personal circumstances resultin in aw that madness or wis it destiny? Ir we convinced every detail ae oor lives ir continually woven together fur good? Dae yi believe in resurrection ... or only in Russian trance? Some say walkin, talkin sea monkeys huv delusions ae grandeur in faith. Heaven knows Airdrie is wan hell ae a toon. Best people yeel meet. Night’s darkness dissolves away. The searcher ae the heart knows fully oor longings.