Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Still Game
On the day Scotland triumphed 18-12 over the Auld Enemy at Murrayfield, a small group of friends gathered under the destination board at Glasgow Central Station.
They were having a day out; time to retell some classic old tales of glory; talk of days long past from an era that no longer exists; and laugh again like the laddies they once were.
They first met 35 years ago when they were at school together, and have evolved into a gang of characters somewhat akin to those in the BBC's longest-running television sitcom, The Last of The Summer Wine.
Like those characters, these four whimsical chaps enjoy their occasional days of nostalgia. Today, they expect nothing less than non-stop banter as they go Doon the Watter to Millport, one of Scotland's gems in the Firth of Clyde.
Unlike those retired gents on television, these Glasgow chaps are very active, they are still working in their own professions. It is just that they have seemingly decided not to wait until they are in their autumnal years of twilight to indulge in a second childhood. They want it now.
There is no suggestion of a yearning for the golden days of yore - they didn't really exist anyway, and one of the gang disliked school so much, he escaped from the system as soon as the law allowed.
No, it appears rather more that they simply enjoy being mischevious; laughing at playground jokes, making a play on words, or reciting some memorable sketch from Chic Murray on the stage of the Glasgow Pavilion, or Francie and Josie at the King's.
Or even indulging in a favoured impersonation of one of their colourful teachers: Smooth, Psycho and Jessie Campbell spring to mind.
They have mastered a technique of having at least three or four conversations between themselves. Simultaneously. And all at the one time. It would be little surprise to hear them indulging in five or six storylines at once, each jumping in and out of one story into another.
It is clear any of them could ask a question on the platform at Glasgow Central and get the answer, succintly put, on the ferry crossing to Millport. No offence meant or taken, but at the time the original question had been put, there was either a more interesting conversation to be had, or simply the sight of a lovely burd passing by.
They want a carefree second childhood. Life is tough enough in the real world, so with the blessing of their other halves - who, truth be told are probably delighted to get them out from under their feet for a day - these chaps indulge themselves in the headiness of guid auld Glasgow humour and enjoying the natural beauty of their country.
Oh, and they have also been seen visiting a range of hostelries for an odd dram or two, in the spirit of helping to maintain the industry.
Once they are together, it is likely that before long, one of them will concoct a plan to do "something". Those "somethings" can range from picking up a "wee rowing boat" to renting rollerskates, with which, presumably, they would scatter at will the population of Millport as they rush past the famous Crocodile Rock on the promenade.
"We could swim across," said one, to slightly bemused looks. Instead of responses that would rubbish the notion, it was more like: "How long do you think it would take?" And for at least several minutes, it was a serious proposition, no doubt partly to save the £2.75 return crossing on the Cal Mac ferry between Largs and Great Cumbrae.
"It was the High School that made us this way," said another. "It encouraged us to be individuals." "It was full of eccentrics, both the teachers and pupils," offered another. "You mean, nutters," said the third man, giving the gang a wizard opportunity to convulse with laughter.
But it seemed to have at least some margin of truth in it - the encouragement about individuals bit. These four very individual, successful professionals are happy with their hinterland and their ability to dip into schoolboy discourse, something they appear to have been conditioned into by their days at the High School of Glasgow in Elmbank Street.
"When did it close?" one of the chaps inquired. "Oh, it must be about 20 years ago or something like that," came a response that was met with incredulity by all. That was impossible, for it would make them all so very old.
"Actually, it was June 1976," said one of the four, prompting looks of shock, horror, and comments that sounded not unlike "smartypants", "know it all", "sook", followed by the obligatory falling about in hysterics like a pack of hyenas.
And it was from this illustrious conversation that another Big Idea was born: a reunion.
Could they perhaps go back to Elmbank Street, the site that was shut down by Glasgow Council 30 years ago to house Strathclyde Region and now some of their own offices? Maybe in the old Assembly Hall? They could rent it for a night...
No chance. Glasgow Council has mothballed what they call, in their Sovietski Speaksi, "Building Five". It is under "essential maintenance only" because of budget cuts. The chaps at Glasgow Council never did like what they believed to be posh boys at a posh school.
Not to be defeated, the focus moved west, just like the remnants of the High School itself where it was reborn at the side of the playing fields of Anniesland.The GHS30 Gathering will be held there in June, three decades after the gates closed in the city centre.
"Ach, maybe we'll no' bother inviting anyone along," said one of the gang. "We could just do our own thing and no' bother with the rest of them," said another. "Mind you, it might be interesting to see how they've turned out," offered one. "Aye, right!" came the collective response.
These four are regarded by families and friends as being among "the lucky ones". The self-deprecating put-downs and self-inflicted references to being a "saddo" because they all hang around together, go places and do things "after all this time", is a state of being that is, in truth, envied by many.
As Francie and Josie might say, a bit of neuralgia now and again is a grand thing. Especially perhaps this day, with its accompanying sound of the 1812 Overture.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
On the day Scotland triumphed 18-12 over the Auld Enemy at Murrayfield, a small group of friends gathered under the destination board at Glasgow Central Station.
They were having a day out; time to retell some classic old tales of glory; talk of days long past from an era that no longer exists; and laugh again like the laddies they once were.
They first met 35 years ago when they were at school together, and have evolved into a gang of characters somewhat akin to those in the BBC's longest-running television sitcom, The Last of The Summer Wine.
Like those characters, these four whimsical chaps enjoy their occasional days of nostalgia. Today, they expect nothing less than non-stop banter as they go Doon the Watter to Millport, one of Scotland's gems in the Firth of Clyde.
Unlike those retired gents on television, these Glasgow chaps are very active, they are still working in their own professions. It is just that they have seemingly decided not to wait until they are in their autumnal years of twilight to indulge in a second childhood. They want it now.
There is no suggestion of a yearning for the golden days of yore - they didn't really exist anyway, and one of the gang disliked school so much, he escaped from the system as soon as the law allowed.
No, it appears rather more that they simply enjoy being mischevious; laughing at playground jokes, making a play on words, or reciting some memorable sketch from Chic Murray on the stage of the Glasgow Pavilion, or Francie and Josie at the King's.
Or even indulging in a favoured impersonation of one of their colourful teachers: Smooth, Psycho and Jessie Campbell spring to mind.
They have mastered a technique of having at least three or four conversations between themselves. Simultaneously. And all at the one time. It would be little surprise to hear them indulging in five or six storylines at once, each jumping in and out of one story into another.
It is clear any of them could ask a question on the platform at Glasgow Central and get the answer, succintly put, on the ferry crossing to Millport. No offence meant or taken, but at the time the original question had been put, there was either a more interesting conversation to be had, or simply the sight of a lovely burd passing by.
They want a carefree second childhood. Life is tough enough in the real world, so with the blessing of their other halves - who, truth be told are probably delighted to get them out from under their feet for a day - these chaps indulge themselves in the headiness of guid auld Glasgow humour and enjoying the natural beauty of their country.
Oh, and they have also been seen visiting a range of hostelries for an odd dram or two, in the spirit of helping to maintain the industry.
Once they are together, it is likely that before long, one of them will concoct a plan to do "something". Those "somethings" can range from picking up a "wee rowing boat" to renting rollerskates, with which, presumably, they would scatter at will the population of Millport as they rush past the famous Crocodile Rock on the promenade.
"We could swim across," said one, to slightly bemused looks. Instead of responses that would rubbish the notion, it was more like: "How long do you think it would take?" And for at least several minutes, it was a serious proposition, no doubt partly to save the £2.75 return crossing on the Cal Mac ferry between Largs and Great Cumbrae.
"It was the High School that made us this way," said another. "It encouraged us to be individuals." "It was full of eccentrics, both the teachers and pupils," offered another. "You mean, nutters," said the third man, giving the gang a wizard opportunity to convulse with laughter.
But it seemed to have at least some margin of truth in it - the encouragement about individuals bit. These four very individual, successful professionals are happy with their hinterland and their ability to dip into schoolboy discourse, something they appear to have been conditioned into by their days at the High School of Glasgow in Elmbank Street.
"When did it close?" one of the chaps inquired. "Oh, it must be about 20 years ago or something like that," came a response that was met with incredulity by all. That was impossible, for it would make them all so very old.
"Actually, it was June 1976," said one of the four, prompting looks of shock, horror, and comments that sounded not unlike "smartypants", "know it all", "sook", followed by the obligatory falling about in hysterics like a pack of hyenas.
And it was from this illustrious conversation that another Big Idea was born: a reunion.
Could they perhaps go back to Elmbank Street, the site that was shut down by Glasgow Council 30 years ago to house Strathclyde Region and now some of their own offices? Maybe in the old Assembly Hall? They could rent it for a night...
No chance. Glasgow Council has mothballed what they call, in their Sovietski Speaksi, "Building Five". It is under "essential maintenance only" because of budget cuts. The chaps at Glasgow Council never did like what they believed to be posh boys at a posh school.
Not to be defeated, the focus moved west, just like the remnants of the High School itself where it was reborn at the side of the playing fields of Anniesland.The GHS30 Gathering will be held there in June, three decades after the gates closed in the city centre.
"Ach, maybe we'll no' bother inviting anyone along," said one of the gang. "We could just do our own thing and no' bother with the rest of them," said another. "Mind you, it might be interesting to see how they've turned out," offered one. "Aye, right!" came the collective response.
These four are regarded by families and friends as being among "the lucky ones". The self-deprecating put-downs and self-inflicted references to being a "saddo" because they all hang around together, go places and do things "after all this time", is a state of being that is, in truth, envied by many.
As Francie and Josie might say, a bit of neuralgia now and again is a grand thing. Especially perhaps this day, with its accompanying sound of the 1812 Overture.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
# posted by scotcast @ 8:27 am 
