I was working in Glasgow last week, and I was board on the train, so I wrote a little story. I haven't written anything for years, and I'm not very good at it, yet I've plucked up enough courage to send it to the list. I hope you like it, please send any comments. For any of our American listees - Please don't be offended. Oh, and it's written in dialect (ala Irvine Welsh), I can spell really! And I don't speak like this either! Cheers, John S. Wandering Days It's five o'clock and I'm ready to leave. I hastily say a few goodnights and I'm off oot the office door. I'm walking a bit too fast. I stumble doon the stairs and open the front door, walking oot intae Princes Street. Reaching intae ma pocket I press play oan ma Walkman. The sounds of Belle & Sebastian's 'My Wandering Days Are Over' fills ma ears as a continue walking towards the West End. The music immediately makes me grin. I feel the pressures from the day lift from ma head and notice a slight spring appear in ma step. The street's mobbed though, bloody tourists. Bloody festival. I weave in and out between them until I get stuck behind a daft family of yanks. I don't fuckin' believe it, their aw huddin hands wi each other, takin up maist of the pavement. Some people don't have two brain cells tae rub together, it's bloody scary. Aw fat as fuck tae. I push through between the bloke and the wife, and I can hear their comments over the music. But am not interested. I turn the volume up on the Walkman and keep on walking. That wee smile quickly returns to ma face. I run across the road just in time before the lights turn tae green and the traffic moves on to the next queue, at the next set of lights. As I begin to walk up Lothian Road, I reach intae ma pocket to pull a fag from the packet. Then I remember that joint we started at lunchtime. We hudnae finished it before getting back tae work, and I still had nearly half. I pull whats left of the joint ootae the fag packet instead, and get a funny look from an auld dear at the bus stop as I light it wi ma zippo. It's far to nice a night to take the bus hame. It's just efter five and the sun is slowly sliding down behind the castle and it turns the pavement's and buildings gold. I keep on walking. At one point I feel I could just keep on walking forever. No need to sleep or eat, soaking up the sunshine and the music would give me all the energy I needed. But by the time I'm up tae the Kings, am glad am nearly hame. The sun has fallen below the rooftops and it's a bit colder in the shade. The music finishes and the walkman stops with a click. The magic's gone, I turn into Gilmour Place and home. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+