Its guid fur ye!

Mind oh they things yer folks made ye take thit wir meant tae be guid fur ye? Harmless things like vitamin juice or codliver oil nivver goat much oh a lookin in oor hoose. Oor faither wiz a man fur the 'MIXTURE'. It wiz sold by a chemist up the front street an fuck nose whit wiz in it but it tasted mair thin disgustin and it wiz really called 'THE MIXTURE'. It wiz more thin likely a by product oh the virgin nuclear industry. Anyways we wir forced tae take it fur oor catargh but ahm sure wi nivvir hud catargh until wi started takin the shite. Oor faithir wiz adament wi hud tae take it until one day oor ma tellt him tae try it inow, well effter he hud dropped his guts and puked aboot five times we wir tellt thit we wurrni tae git it again. The chemist mare thin likely hud tae shut shoap effter wir faither stopped buying it. In the wild west the he wud huv been a seller oh 'snake oil'

Three Colours Red: Part 1, Red Kola

It's funny how the taste of something can act as a kinda time-machine and wheek ye right back to a time and place long in the past.

I was oot the back cutting the grass the other day and had a sudden urge for a boatil o Red Kola. I nipped over tae the wee shop on the green and got maself a boatil. Back at the hoose I opened the top and took a swig. And there I was back in the past.

The taste o the Red Kola took me right back to my Gran & Grandad's hoose in Craigentiny back in the 70's. Right back to a Saturday night there, when a young bobrob and I sat in front of an old black and white TV as the regular monotone voice of the boy on Grandstand announced the fitba results. Ye couldnae talk durin the results as ma auld Grandad sat there wi his coupon on his knee and checked off the results. Any conversation during this ritual was met with a "Shut yer erse, son" from Grandad and a wee hit oan the back o the heid.

Me bobrob and ma cousins sat on the carpet balancin' plates o homemade chips on oor knees, and glasses ful of Red Kola, waiting for the familiar sound of Dr Who to emerge from the tinny TV speakers. Then it was complete silence broken only by the sound o chips being munched and Red Kola being sooked doon, as we went on another adventure wi Dr Who!

Red Kola is braw! My old Gran always made sure there were boatils o Barrs fizzy juice in her hoose. I hadnae tasted Red Kola in years, but that boatil the other day was great! Times have changed tho. The deposit on the glass boatil is now 30p! Imagine! Back in the day when we drank the stuff at the High Wall you only got aboot 2p oan an empty. But you had to be careful wi boatils you found at the High Wall, cause Curly might have beaten you to it! God knows how he managed to get diarrhea into a boatil or a can but he did! And even the corner shop wouldnae take one back in yon kinda state!

Cheers

Arkos

Places of old.

Ah wiz jist checkin the online version o the News and ah found this story.

http://edinburghnews.scotsman.com/topstories/Old-Odeon-granted--a.6313147.jp

Manys a Seturday mornin wir spen there at the matinee. Yer Ma gave ye the cash fur a tickit in it wiz wer o aff tae the pictures. Hundreds o bairns standin oot in the front street waitin fur they doors tae open an take ye tae a better place where thir were spaceships an Roman forts an oh the adventures thit we wir dyin tae be part oh.
This wiz the place where me n Arkos saw the very Flash Gordon thit wir Faithir wiz eye tellin us aboot. Oright ye could see the stings huddin up the spaceship and the sparklir stickin oot oh its erse, but it wiz still braw. We spent most oh the week waitin fur Seturday tae arrive. Me n Arkos wir lucky cause we wir doon at oor Grannies oan a Seturday eftirnin which meant thit we wir in the George fur the next load o movies where baldy wiz the man in charge.
When we goat aulder it wiz the place where we went fir oh the concerts. Some magic gigs wir held in the Odeon and manys a night wiz spent at a guid session. Oan the way hame yir ears wid be ringin the sweat wid be runnin doon yer sides and it wiz oaf tae Rizzi's fur a fish supper n a boatle o cola.
A hope it steys where it is, an mibbe it'll be a picture hoose again, but ah doubt it.

Rub of the Green

(click to enlarge)

Arkos and I were having our wee regular Tuesday evening cup o tea and blether in the 'Keld the other night and happened to remember the Letraset panorama things we bought back in the day.

Custers last stand, space exploration and fitba were all given the" rub on- Letraset" treatment back then.

We used to buy them fi a shop next to Bratisanni's, a sheet of card printed wi a background and a set o' wee rub on transfers. The idea being that you completed the picture by rubbing the transfers in the appropriate places. Minutes of endless fun.

Sometimes you rubbed too hard and a Sioux brave would lose his bow arm or a U.S Marine wi a flame thrower would get his gas cut off.

We would also indulge in 70's Decoupage by rubbing them onto bedroom furniture and the broon paper round yer school jotters.

I said to Arkos I was sure I minded having the Hibs on these sets. After a bit I dismissed it as a vague romanicised wish, and being a non football man Arkos could not add anything to the debate. However, by the power of Google I have since been proved correct, as can be seen by clicking on the above photos (and straining your eyes at the blue yin).
The other yin is a Captain Scarlett set, half completed.

What I wouldnae give for a #4 Soccer Action Replay, Hibs v Celtic Jimmy O'Rourke set, a #5 Scotland v England, John Brownlie, or especially a #7 Hearts v Hibs (0-7) Donald Ford set (nae offence Naldo, our adopted High Wall brother).

For more nostalgic sticker nonsense head for the excellent
http://www.seven-wonders.co.uk/atranges.html

Teenage kicks!

Ah wit thinkin the other night aboot the wummin thit ye wir radge aboot as a teen. Fur me it wiz Suzy Quattro. Ah hud a full size Suzy poster oan ma wall. Manys a night ah tossed un turned (mair tossin thin turnin ahm afraid tae say!) wi Suzy oan ma mind. Ah suppose ma Ma hud tae crack the sheets a couple o times tae git thum in tae the washin machine. The guid thing aboot Suzy wiz thot she wiz knee high tae a grasshopper which siuited me doon tae the groond, nae need fur a set o steps or an auld beer crate so ye could gi her a quick snog, nah ye could git right doon tae the nitty gritty. As a well quoted Beggbie wid say "she wiz ah right we ride!"
Well then it steyed as a dream but ah huv tae admit Suzy helped me through manys a dark patch. Fuck yer psychoanalists gi me a Suzy Quattro poster any day.

The Commie

One of the best things to happen to the High Wall was the 1970 Commonwealth Games and the decision to build the swimming pool just up the road fae us.

Once aw they Fancy Dan Australian swimmers used it for a week or so then pissed aff, the facility was left tae the bairns of the South Side, Craigmillar, Niddrie and anywhere else on the Route number 14 bus.

For the High Wall boys it was a 5 minute pad up the road wi yer towel and trunks under yer airm. Every Friday night we were there along wi thoosands o' other bairns. It was always right busy and the pool looked like bairn soup. They also probably used mair chlorine in the Commie on a Friday than the Germans did during the whole Ypres campaign.

Yer locker money got you a key which you slotted into a colour coded rubber band. Then you were off, daein' bombs off the divin' boards, pishin in the pool and generally havin' a rare auld time. Some paedo type lifeguard was aye blawin' a whistle and givin' ye a row, but we didnae care.

You usually had to queue up to get in and they did it in 1/2 hour timed sessions, each wi a different band colour. The scoreboard had the coloured boxes, and they lit up when yer time was up. The tannoy would tell ye tae get oot as well. You would always try to get an extra half hour when the light changed to tell you tae get oot, but if the paedo spotted yer band, that was the game up. Ye had to hit the showers and scrabble aboot for the remains o' a Vosene shampoo sachet wi a wee bit left in it. Quite often the paedo would hang aboot the showers tae make sure ye left and didnae try tae sneak back in. Aye right!!

Then came the best bit, Bratissani's. You got chips wi the locker money, they always tasted barry. Mind you anything tasted barry after a few hours of swallowing large amounts o' pish and chlorine.

I passed the Commie the other day and saw it's getting a full refit. Good to see it's still there but back in oor day it was a proper affordable baths open tae awbody.

New yin does look barry though.

Foods of the High Wall #2 The Donkey's Welt Tube

Not technically a "food" this one, mair o' an unwanted by-product. These things were forever turnin' up on yer plate back in the 70's.

Nowadays meat is quite sterile and quality control by the faceless supermarkets has meant that every bit o' meat ye buy fae them is roughly the same size, shape and weight. Folk are ower squeamish these days. Foot and mouth outbreaks, mad coo disease and the media frenzy that feeds off them have meant that if someone finds anything on their plate that is different, then they are right roond tae the supermarket kickin up a right stink.

Back in the day you used tae find aortas, bits o ventricle, ligaments, grizzle, string and awthing in yer dinner. "Just eat it" was the instructions from oor parents, "It'll no do ye any harm" or "it's just part o' the meat".

At school the auld dinner hall joke was that the big tube in yer stew was a urethra of equine origin, or a "donkeys welt tube" as we called it. If you bit into the donkeys welt tube and spat it oot you got the pish ripped oot o' you all day by yer mates. It was one of those daft slaggings like the haircut slagging but ye just had to take it. You knew that someone else would get one later in the week and you would be off the hook and would be right in there wi' aw the guid one liners.

Arkos was telling me the other day that he can trace the origins of his vegetarianism back to findin' a beauty o' a welt tube in a Frey Bentos pie. Big Jessie that he is, if ye ask me.