One of the hazards o' being a 70's High Wall bairns was the the amount o' gangs runnin' aboot the toon. Now I know there was a wee "casual" scene back in the 90's but that was a bit mair sophisticated and confined tae the fitba and clubs.
In oor day a guid kickin' was literally just roond the corner. Purely territorial.
Aye ye strayed too far fae the High Wall and you were in someone elses territory. YNT, YIC, YGT, YSSR, YLT, BAR- OX, TCR, MBB, YPR, YMD, YPD...ect Man ye needed a map and a compass.
Mostly it was just a case o' being chased and ye had tae be quick on yer feet. Naebody really got any serious doin's and if ye ran fae a pack o' radges, everyone was happy if ye got away. The radges defended their bit and saw ye off. You, in turn, got away intact. A classic Win-Win situation. Now I was like a skinny white version o' Usian Bolt in those days, but even then I knew they boys slowed up when they were chasin' ye, cos the point had been made.
There were a few right bams though, boys in full-on Clockwork Orange gear, nutters in crombies wi walkin' sticks and sharpened steel combs. Ye tended tae gie them a wide bearth. They tended tae stick tae alleys and places rife fer ambush.
There were aw the books by Richard Allen which we loved,. Full o' violence wi' a bit o' shaggin' thrown in. They got traded aboot the school like Futures Derivatives. Added tae that ye had Mr Kubrick glammin' up the auld ultra-violence wi Clockwork Orange. Nane o' this really helped the situation.
Aye it wis an interesting time tae be a young laddie. It taught us how tae read situations and how tae cover 400 yards in aboot a minute withoot breathin or lookin' back.
2 comments:
Ah hud forgot oh aboot they skinhead books, ah wiz mair oh a man fur the chopper books, bit nivvir mind. Ye broought back some rare memories tae me wi the gangs. In oor street thir wir the boys thit dressed up in the tight white jeans an the high dos, mind oh Hazy an Urqy? Caus they lived in yir street ye could use it tae yir advantage in a tight spot be sayin Ah ken Hazy! Thir wir two things thit could happen. One: the gadgie wid shit himsel an let ye go Two: the gadgie filled ye in an then let ye go. THe gangs wir aye fir sprayin thir name oan thir turf walls. Mind oh Jungle garanteed tae scare the shit oot oh ye an ah mean jist the sight oh the spray painted name! The best name though wiz Grubrim. Ah dinnie ken whae he wiz bit ah wiz scared oh meetin him in the dark!
JUNGLE YA BASS!
Ah grew up in Jungle territory and was delighted a few weeks back tae see there's a wee remnant o thir daubs on a waw at the corner o Clerie Road North and Caroline Terrace - JUNGLE - in proud but faded black gloss paint. It's only really visible in direct sunlight if ye ken where tae look but it took me right back. Must be more than 35 years since some cat painted it.
Our mentalest gadgies were called Maco and Whizz - crombies, high waisters and silver docs were their specialities.
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