Aith Gun

Aith Gun
Breezy Isles, Shetland

Friday, October 15, 2010

Rainy Days

I remember this sorta view from when I was small. The summer holidays had just started, just in time for the rain. Our Mam had got us books, crayons, drinks and snacks for the train journey a head o us. We would get to the station in London, everything was shiney, crystal like in the wet, looking at the gutter, noticing the patterns of wee oil slicks and the black whisps of diesel exhaust particals. Waitin in the station, always finding the spot where the roof leaked. Then onto the train. We had to befriend the train for it was to be our conveyor to Aberdeen and a short visit to Balmedie. The train, 13 hours of it was ok till it got dark and nothing could be seen except the small galaxies called towns, and the swirling traffic, lights reflected even more so because of the crystal. If you opened the window on the door and put your hand out you would cringe at the coldness the rain peppering your skin at many miles an hour. Dawn would break to the right and folk would get up to wet the tracks. Soon we would be travelling along the east coast of Scotland, over the bridge to Dundee I remember me Dad pointing out the foundations of the 1st bridge that collapsed killing quite a few folk. It was the time of the rig building frenzy and you could not look towards Europe without seeing one being dragged to the spot of future wealth. Aberdeen always felt cold. And wet too. On the bus to visit folk. Arriving in Balmedie, all of us knackered. Getting scalded by Mam for my dirty neck then finding out it was the dye from the new shirt she had got me to travel in. Then to the Clair, down to the depths of this hulk, next door would be the sheep. We would say hello to Kenny, have a snack and hit the bunks. Through the night, the constant penetrating drone of the engine and bearings, sheep worried, bags and clatters and the water wooshing past the door under the false decking and crashing upon the bulkhead. 6Am and we would be up, the holidays close, my best friend James Bulter, granparents and kin,long days and rain, holiday rain.

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