The
Screamin Lum.
Michael
wiz a gye illtricket laddie and liked tae mak fowk laach. That wiz
aaricht as far as that goes but fyles he overstepped the mark and did
silly things. One case in point wiz durin the war. Michael wiz ayee
on the raik aboot the hairbour lookin for reels wi the fishermen faa
liked a gweed laach themsels. Of course Michael played up tae this
and in nae time hid them rollin aboot at his antics.
There
wiz big aal sheds aside the hairbour and Michael loved tae raik up in
the rafters searchin for doo’s eggs. He eased tae collect poochfaes
o them then tak them tae the back o the slip faar he’d licht a wee
fire and fry the eggs ontae a lump o sheet iron. Bonny and clatty I’m
tellin ye! But Michael wolfed them doon packin his mooth wi the eggs
and nae one bit o hairm come tae him. Oh god-ova-jezuz but he wiz a
clatty chavie!
His
aal mither bade in a vennel doon at the fit o Brae street yonder. The
hoosie hid at ae time been a bakehoose so there wiz only the one room
wi a wee lobby that let oot intae the backie faar there wiz a steen
biggit shed and a dry lavie. The sheddie wiz packit full o driftwid
he’d collected and a dose o coal that he’d stolen fae the
drifters. That wiz een o Michael’s specialties he stole massive
lumps o coal in the middle o the nicht fae the boats and trailed them
hame throwe aa the lanes. The driftwid wiz nae problem though because
durin the day he could use his ould barra for that athoot bein
speired at fit he wiz deein. He daurna use his barra for the coal
though because fowk wid’ve heard the squeak o the barra gyan up the
lanes at nicht drawin unwanted attention tae his ongyans. Na the
massive lumps o coal hid tae be cairriet on his hump in a saik.
Onywye Michael hid it doon tae a fine art. The big lumps o coal were
broken up wi an ould mell intae the sheddie and secreted ahin the
piles o driftwid for his aal mither.
His
aal mither jist sat at the moo o the hole faar the baker’s oven hid
eence been. Michael hid teen a puckle bars o iron fae the slip for
tae mak a grate an jist haived a barrafae o coal an sticks ontae the
fire fin nott.
The
one room wiz fair smeekit wi the reek fae the fire an jist hingin wi
seet an wobbs. The room must’ve at ae time been pinted but ye widna
think that noo for aa a body kent they micht’ve been sittin inside
a lum? It wid’ve teen a squad o navies a week tae clean the clatty
room. Funnily though the place wiz bowfin o clatt an seet the aal
uman keepit her braiss paraffin lamps fair shining an they steed oot
like gown against the backdrop o seet.
The
truth o’t though Michael and his mither were squatters so they
couldna veryweel complain tae the landlord aboot the state o the
placie. But sayin that they wid nivver complain onywye for the aal
bakehoose wiz pure luxury tae them aifter bidin in the back o ayont
up the Cabrach wye in a bow camp wi the sparks fleein fae their yaks
wi the hunger.
The
fishermen were affa gweed tae Michael an he nivver yet left the
hairbour athoot getting a fry o fish fae them. As like as nae he’d
get a puckle tatties ana. He’d fyles get wee jobbies helpin oot the
lads wi their gear an sic like. For this he’d get a fyowe coppers
an maybe a bittie tabacca for his mither’s pipe. The fishermen kent
fine he stole coal but decided tae dee a Nelson on it by turin a blin
ee. The funny thing aboot Michael even though he couldna help himself
fin he seen coal ye could leave siller or the best o mait lyin aboot
and he widna touch ony o’t. But a lump o coal wiz a completely
different maitter aathegither.
The
man that echt the hoose they bade in kent fine they were there but
jist left them till’t an even wint as far as turn the water back on
for them.
Michael
widve been aboot twal years aal at the time I’m spikkin aboot. He
wint tae skweel but nae for affa lang because he jist couldna manage
the lessons for he’d nae the wit for that ava. So for that reason
he wiz awa fae skweel at the age o twal. He wis nae scholar but by
God he could mak ye laach wi some o his ongyans. Onywye I digress a
bittie.
Ae
day Michael wiz haein a raik aboot the beach pickin up driftwid an
haivin it intae a pile fin he saw something stickin oot o the saan.
He saw the glint o braiss so wi a ‘shannish shannish’ tae himself
he pulled it oot fae the saan. It wiz a shell o some kind so geein it
a dicht he saw it wiz a RN twa pounder wi the date 1942 ontae it. It
must’ve been lost aff een o the RN ships in the bey? He dug doon wi
his fammils tae see if there wiz ony mair o them but na there wiz
only the een. There wiz signs up sayin nae tae ficher wi onything on
the beach in case o unexploded munitions, but Michael peyed nae heeds
tae that for aa that wiz in his mind wiz tae get the lump o braiss
for tae sell. Noo this shell wiz mair nor twa fit lang an aboot as
thick as a rollin pin taperin tae a pint wi a big rounded lump o lead
at the business eyne. Wi a quick glance aboot him he put it allo his
jaicket an leavin the pile o driftwid for later he made his wye hame
tae the sheddie wi his treasure. He fichered aboot chappin the shell
wi the mell he used tae braak up the coal an a caalcut chisel tae see
if he could get it apairt. But aifter millin his fammils a puckle
times he gave up an threw the shell wi a clatter intae the corner o
the sheddie ‘god-ova-jezuz’! The shell wi be worth a couple o
hogg tae him if he could get it separated.
Fair
cursin an rubbin his sair fammils he teen his wee barra an made his
wye back tae the beach tae fetch the driftwid he’d left. Aye but
this time he wisna tae get ontae the beach for the squad o sojers
turnin fowk back fae gyan near. Michael tellt een o them he wanted
tae pick up his pile o driftwid but the sojer tellt him tae rin tae
fuck for they were lookin for an unexploded twa pounder pom pom
shell that hid been reported by a man earlier that day. Michael
thocht tae himself ‘Oh shannish shannish that must’ve been the
shell he’d teen hame wi him?’ He didna say that tae the sojer
though for they’d pit him intae the jile for stealin it an as like
nae gee him a dose o the birch rod ana. Oh shannish! So he ran back
hame an said nithing aboot the shell ava. Onywye he wanted the siller
for the braiss and lead for himsel if only he could figure oot how
tae get the shell apart?
In
nae time he wiz back at it an liftin lumps oot o’t wi the haimmer
but nae matter fit he did it jist widna separate ava. Fair pechin an
sweerin like a trooper he gave it up eence mair in disgust. A good
while later he mind on fowk spikkin aboot heatin aal stuff tae get
the braiss tae expand so it wid come aff easy.
Noo
an idea formed so he teen the shell intae the hoose. His aal mither
wiz sittin in her usual place aside the fire haein a forty winks and
she wiz even snoring a wee bit. Michael quietly sneaked past her an
put the shell intae the hert o the bleazin fire. By gweed luck he
stood it up on its eyne an shoved some lowin coals aroon it wi the
poker. This kindo woke his mither up and her wee yakies did a blink
blink as she sleepily askit Michael “Fit are ye dee-----?” as the
shell exploded. The fire grate itsell come oot intae the middle o the
room an the hot burnin coals gid stottin aawye, the heed o the shell
wint up the lum screamin like a bainshee takin the lum an haaf the
reef wi it and scattered the lot intae the middle o the street.
Bricks,steens, aish, cinders soot, clatt an paraffin lampies aawye.
Michael’s aal mither come staggerin oot fae the wreckage blinkin
its eenies an covered in soot sayin
“Oh
God a God fit’s that laddie done now?”
Cloods
o aish, soot an pure clattyness hung ower the building like a
volcano. It gid roon the toon in nae time that a Jerry bomber hid
deen a hit an run raid an that dizens o dismembered bodies lay
scattered aboot Brae street! Michael----he wisna there tae hear ony
o this for he’d ran awa afore the last bricks hut the grun tae the
Cabrach wi the hump o terror on his back in case the authorities put
him in the stardy an gave him the birch rod. Oh shannish shannish!
copyright
© Patrick Hutchison
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