This sounds a bittie dotty, but I’m convinced my hoosie is inhabited by gremlins.
Nae just ony wee devils, but gammie-lug gremlins. I hear you titter. Let me explain.
I have a “feeling” for certain things. Like being convinced my last place was haunted by a naisty spirit. I sensed something strange the day we moved in, when this overpowering stink of fish struck me as I opened the French doors at the back.
Weeks later, a gadgie at my work said he’d been a labourer when the house was built, and one of the crew got crushed by a cement mixer in the back garden. We experienced several unhappy events there, including my mum’s illness and death, splitting from my second hubby, and various scary invasions by wildlife, including wasps, ants and geese. The couple who bought it from me divorced within a year.
By comparison, my current hoosie has been hugely happy, apart from it being anti-earrings. Within weeks of moving in, my lugs suddenly developed an allergy to anything I stuck in them, bla’in up like red balloons. I rarely wear any of my huge collection now, and then only in short bursts afore the pain kicks in. Odd.
Then there was that drama on my quine’s wedding day, as me and her five bridesmaids were havin’ a rare time swiggin’ prosecco and gettin’ tarted up, when I was suddenly aware of some drama in the bathroom.
One maid in tears, three huddled roon trying to console her, and a fifth attempting to disconnect my sink pipe. Fit the…? Turns oot, as a quine fitted the diamond earrings my quine had given them all as her wedding gift, she’d dropped one doon the plughole.
The DIY-er in fuchsia pink wisna hae’in ony success wi my pipe, when someone remembered one of the groom’s best mates was a plumber. I on the phone, his wife revealing he actually wisnae that long in his scratcher after a looong stag party. However, the brilliant loon up and oot and retrieved the lost gem. Fit a star.
Meanwhile, despite the mayhem aroon him, my wee grandson never lifted his headie from hooverin’ up his roast tea
Ca’ forward a pucklie years to last Wednesday. Same bathroom, another bonnie pair of earrings, same gremlins.
While I dished up tea – my grandson’s favourite roast lamb – I suddenly heard my quine shouting: “It’s bleeding really badly. Muuum, have you any cotton wool?” Minutes later, she appeared, brandishing bloody hankies, declaring she and her quine were off to A&E. Fit the…?
Turns oot my granddaughter, trying to remove the butterfly of an earring, had pulled the entire stud backwards through her lobe, where it had stuck fast, buried in the flesh. Gads. (Please Mo, dinna think aboot it. Dinna look at the hankies. Dinna pass oot.)
As they dashed to the car, my phone rang – a mate asking: “Is now a good for a natter?” Here’s me: “Nae really. We’ve had an earring emergency.” Here’s her: “Nae again!”
Without a mammoth wait, my wee girl was sorted by a doc who howked oot the offending stud. Another star earring-retriever!
Meanwhile, despite the mayhem aroon him, my wee grandson never lifted his headie from hooverin’ up his roast tea. Never even keeked behind amid skirls aboot blood flowing to find oot fit was afoot. As I zonked in a blue funk on the sofa, he finally spoke: “Nana. You make brilliant roast lamb.” Oh, to be so calm when the gremlins strike.
Where did it all go wrong for former council protectors?
It has been a bittersweet week in Aberdeen City Council history. On the one hand, celebrations because the Bucksburn pool has been saved. However, none of the libraries have escaped the axe. All six closures confirmed. Not a positive word, presumably, to be said for any of them. How sad. What a travesty.
Ever since the pool and libraries were “fingered” as budget sacrifices a few months ago, some councillors have revealed themselves as a disgrace to the people they represent. I mean, of course, those members of the ruling SNP-Lib Dem coalition who couldn’t wait to claw back the £46,000 recommended by officials by closing those facilities.
Worst of all, they had no inclination to hear what the various communities had to say about how much the closures would affect them. Utterly scandalous.
Sadly, Lord Provost David Cameron has not played the most prestigious role in the procedures. He was the one who led the move not to hear the protesters speak at a meeting. How could that be? I always thought LPs were our most honourable representatives, who tried to keep above and beyond controversies and allowed everyone a fair say.
And, as someone who’s always inclined towards the apparently middle-of-the-road Lib Dems, I am really so disappointed that – in coalition with the Nats – veteran councillor Ian Yuill and his cohort supported the closures. In another life, they would have fought tooth and nail to save the pool and libraries, because it would have been the right thing to do. So, where did it all go wrong?
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press and Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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