Alasdair Gray - Ten Tales Tall and True

Or is it an insane idea? Henry Pitt is over sixty, must soon retire and has no children. Phimister has his Loch Lomond fish farm. It began as a rich man’s hobby because he enjoys messing about in boats, but Mulgrew and Tramworth gave him a lot of help and a recent article in The Scots Magazine said it was now profitable. It also quoted him as saying, “I want a cleaner, fresher life for my children. Modern cities are becoming intolerable.” If Pitt and Phimister sold the business they would make quite a lot. Since it is the only remaining firm of its kind in Scotland the buyers would almost certainly be southerners who would keep the depots but shut this distribution centre. Do you think we are coming to that, Lumley? It has happened with ship building, the car industry, textiles, steel, sanitary engineering et cetera.

I have had another idea. If they decide to sell us off could not a few of us (me, you, Mrs Macleod, Helen Scrimgeour, Colin Shand and maybe some others) put in an offer for the distribution part — this part — and buy it and run it for ourselves? We know how to do it. I would really like to talk to you about this. You are the only member of the senior management who listens to what I say and knows what I mean. Also, if a sell-out is being planned you will be one of the first to know about it. You also went to the same school as Phimister, so understand these things much better than I do.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not Love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not Love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.’ — Paul wrote this in his first letter to the Christians of …

“Excuse me but I want to ask you one question, just one question. Are You a lesbian?”

“I am not a lesbian.”

“That answer, if you will pardon me for saying so, is not satisfactory. For the last two Sunday mornings I have watched you stroll in here at five-thirty, wearing jeans. You order a pint of lager, bring it to this corner and sit reading a book and shrugging off every man who tries to start a conversation with you. Why act that way if you arenae a lesbian?”

“That is your second question. You said you would ask just one.”

“Aye, all right. I take your point. Fair enough.” Paul wrote this in his first letter to the Christians of Corinth, less than twenty years after Christ was crucified. And now, a question .

What do we need most in life? What, if we suddenly lost it, would make us both feel, and be, worthless? Some Christians will answer: their religion. They think their lives are given meaning by their faith in God who made and sustains the universe and became Jesus of Nazareth. Well, they are wrong. Faith in God can make us very strong — for centuries it has enabled Christians to suffer and inflict, prolong and endure hideous agonies for the most splendid reasons. But it is not what God wants. Paul tells us why: ‘Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not Love, I am nothing.’ ‘Though I give my body to be burned, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.’

In many (not all) Bibles you will read ‘charity’ where I have written ‘Love’. Paul used Greek word meaning ‘loving respect’ — the deepest affection possible between people. Charity used to mean that in English, but has come to mean ‘goodness to people who are badly off.’ This sort of goodness can be a wonderful expression of Love, but is not Love itself. People have founded hospitals …

“Excuse me, I know I’m butting in again but I have something to say which will do you good if you will only listen to me and not lose your temper. There is only one reason why a man or a woman comes to a pub and it is not the booze. You could easily be drinking cans of lager in the privacy of your ain hame and it would be cheaper, for Christ’s sake. So like everybody who comes to a pub you are here for the company, so why shut me out by sticking your nose in a book? I mean no offence, but you are a very attractive woman, in spite of wearing jeans and no being very young. I cannae be too plebeian nor too old for ye neither. You would have gone to a pub higher up Byres Road if you wanted posher or younger company.”

“I will tell why I come here if you promise to leave me in peace afterward.”

“Fair enough. Fire away.”

“I have two daughters and a son in their late teens, and a homeloving husband who works in the finance department of the district council. They leave all housework to me but I enjoy keeping the house clean and tidy so can honestly say I do not feel exploited. I do voluntary work for Save the Children, and Amnesty International. I have no money worries, family worries, health worries and used to think I was one of the luckiest people alive. Nothing seems to have changed but my life is now almost unbearable. No doubt a doctor would blame the menopause and prescribe Valium. I think I’ve suddenly started seeing myself clearly after eighteen years of looking after other people.

“You see my father was a Church of Scotland minister and I loved him a lot — he was kind and distant and mysterious. Like most Protestant clergymen he was probably embarrassed by drawing wages to go about looking better than other people. The best clergymen get over their embarrassment by working hard — running soup kitchens, getting decent clothes for families who can’t afford them, visiting the lonely. My father’s church was in a posh suburb. Everybody in the congregation seemed prosperous so we never noticed the poor. He spent most of the time between meals in his study, writing sermons for Sunday. They were no better than other ministers’ sermons but his elocution and manners were perfect, old ladies loved him, everybody admired what they called his unworldliness . I only noticed he was a fraud when I got to university.

“I enjoyed university because I believed I was becoming better — better than him. I took Divinity and was preparing for the ministry …

“Wait a minute! You were studying to be a Church of Scotland minister?”

“Yes.”

“Since when has the Church of Scotland allowed women ministers?”

“Since the sixties. A woman applied for ordination and there was no law against it.”

“Though not a churchgoer or a strict Christian I have strong Protestant sympathies, and women ministers just don’t seem right.”

“Then leave me alone.”

“No no! I’m sorry! I mean go on and tell me what is wrong with your marriage. My own marriage is not what it should be. I will regard it as a great favour if you ignore my interruption and spill the beans.”

“All right. At university I joined a lot of societies — The Students’ Christian Union, The Iona Community and Christians Against the Bomb. I had lots of friends who knew the world should and could be improved, and worked at it. But I began to feel something essential was missing from our lives — God. When I prayed I never felt closer to anyone. When I asked my religious friends how it felt to have God beside them they got embarrassed and changed the subject. Why are you grinning?”

“I know a bloke who feels God is with him all the time. The two of them go along Dumbarton Road together having frantic arguments, though we only hear what poor Jimmy says. ‘I refuse to do it!’ he shouts. ‘You have no right to order me to do it! You’ll get me the jail!’ It seems God keeps telling him to smash the windows of Catholic bookshops.”