James Kelman - Greyhound for Breakfast

Eh aye, I says.

Gives me the fucking willies. . He shook his head: What about yourself?

Well, naw, no really.

It doesnt bother you!

Eh, no really.

He smiled. In this job you sometimes fall into the trap of thinking everybody’s a doctor.

Pardon?

Naw, he says, you start talking to folk as if they’re doctors.

Aw aye.

He frowned and turned to gaze at the electric kettle, he began muttering unintelligibly. Then he says, Probably I stuck in too much water and jammed the fucking thing! He shook his head and sighed loudly but it sounded a wee bit false. He got up off his seat and went to the window, he raised it and put his head out, and he whistled: Whsshhle whhssht!

The next thing the young lassie who works in the snackbar appeared. Her name was Brenda and she was roundabout 18, 19. Blonde-haired, but sometimes a bit sharp-tongued for my liking. He says to her, A piece on sausage hen, and a cup of coffee. Then he glanced at me: What about yourself?

Naw, no thanks.

He shrugged. Hey I hope it’s ready the now Brenda!

Aye it’s ready the now! she says.

Ah you’re a lifesaver, a lifesaver!

So they tell me, she says.

He left the window ajar while she was away. The snackbar was parked permanently in the waste ground next to the surgery and it wasnt long till she reappeared. When she gives him the stuff she says, You can hand me the money in later on.

Aye alright.

I could hardly believe my ears. And I was thinking to myself, Aye ya bastard! if you werent a doctor! Frankly, I was beginning to get annoyed. Here he was having a teabreak and ben the room a pile of folk was sitting there waiting. And then another thing started annoying me as well. How come he was taking me into his confidence like this? At best it seemed as if he was making a hell of a lot of assumptions about me, and I didnt like it very much.

The kettle started boiling. He says to me: You sure you dont fancy a coffee?

Positive. Look eh I’m in cause of my back. .

He nodded; he sniffed, then he took a bite of his piece. What is it sore? he says.

Sore? I says, It’s fucking killing me!

Hh! He continued chewing the food, gazing at me occasionally; he was waiting for me to say something else. I shrugged: I think maybe it’s caused by the damp.

He nodded. His attention wandered to the window then he sat to the front and glanced upwards and sideways, and indicated a framed certificate hanging on the wall. I was a mature student at Uni, he says. And he fingered the lapels of his dust-coat. I came late to this. . I started only about three years ago. He shook his head and sighed. Ah Christ, it has to be said; to a fairly big extent you’ve got to describe this as a young man’s job.

Mmm.

Aye, he says, truly, a young man’s job.

Well, right enough, it needs a lot of training.

Naw but it’s no just that. He grimaced at me and stared at his piece; he bit a mouthful and chewed, then drank a mouthful of coffee. He sighed again and he says: You married?

Eh, yes and no.

Separated?

I shrugged.

Ah — same as myself, I’m divorced. Hh! He smiled: Up at Uni I got involved with this lassie and she found out, the missis. Bang — out the door. More or less dumped the fucking suitcase out in the middle of the street man fucking terrible. Never seen her since! No even at all these family kind of business things. It’s funny, when I dont go to one she does and when I do go to one she doesnt. And we never get in touch beforehand. It’s a kind of telepathy or some fucking thing! He grinned at me: This auld uncle of mine, having a laugh with me, he says he never knows whether he’s coming or going, is he going to see me or is he going to see her! Makes him dizzy he says!

I nodded.

Then there’s the weans.

Aw. Aye.

You know what I’m talking about?

Aye.

Two I’ve got; how about yourself?

Four.

Four! Christ, aye, you do know what I’m talking about!

I shrugged.

But my two, he says, my two — aye, they’re fine, they’re alright. He began chuckling: Aye, they’re alright.

I nodded.

Nice weans. I miss no seeing them. He frowned suddenly and leaned forwards. What was I talking about there?

Eh. .

He carried on staring at me, waiting for me to remember. To be honest, I was kidding on I didnt know because I was hoping if he never found out he would get ahead with the job in hand. But he started getting fucking really strained and you could see he was really intent on finding out so I says: Look eh, I think it was something to do with women.

Aw aye Christ aye so it was. He nodded. . Naw, I was just going to say, this job man, the way you feel at the end of the day it’s well nigh fucking impossible I mean if you’re wanting to meet the fair sex. You’re just — you’re knackered, simple as that; you just dont want to go out anywhere. I mean I’ve got this colleague and he was telling me I should join one of these singles clubs. What he was saying, he was saying it would just save all the sweat of that initial carry on, the introductions and so forth.

He paused there, looking at me, awaiting my reaction. Then he says: I’m no sure but, to be honest, whether I fancy the idea. You hear these stories. .

And he paused again, watching me. Eventually I nodded.

Okay, he says, so it’s your back.

Well aye, sometimes it gets really achy.

Mmm. . aches and pains, aches and pains. . He lapsed into the sort of silence that lets you see he was miles away. There was one wee bit of bread left on his serviette and his fingers just picked it up and let it fall, picked it up and let it fall. Then he snorted and shook his head, he smiled at me: Kafka! From what I hear he was setting out to write this straightforward Chekhov type doctor yarn. And what happens! Naw, he laughed briefly. I’ve had my bellyful of country fucking doctors!

Mm.

Aye, Christ, I was down in Galloway for a bit of my time. And I’ll tell you something man I dont want to see another blade of grass. It was funny at first, all the gossip and the rest of it; then after a while you got used to it. Used to it! And I mean once you’re fucking used to it you’re. .! Hh!

He shook his head and pursed his lips, dabbed at his mouth with the serviette, swallowed the last of his coffee. He gestured at the door: Many waiting?

Eh, quite a few. There might be more now right enough.

He sighed. To tell you straight, he says, they deserve better than me.

I watched him when he said it but he seemed to have spoken without any trace of irony whatsoever so I decided to reply in the same way. Look, I says, it isnt that so much; what it is, I think, really, is just that you dont seem to have the interest, I mean no really, no the way you should.

Mmm.

Well, you dont — Christ!

Naw you’re right, I know. He glanced at the electric kettle. Think I’ll have another coffee. What about yourself?

Eh aye, okay, fine.

Good. Heh I mean if you want a piece or something. .? He indicated the window.

Naw, I says, it’s no that long since I ate my breakfast.

I mean hh! He shook his head and laughed briefly, gazed away over my head to someplace, one hand balanced on the handle of the kettle and the other in his dustcoat pocket. To be frank with you, I only went to Uni to get involved in the ideas, metaphysics and so on, the history of the intellect, the past and the future and — aw Christ, fuck knows what else, no point talking, no point talking. Them out there in that waiting room man I mean, really, they dont understand, they dont, they dont understand. And it’s no fucking for me to tell them, is it!

He patted himself on the chest to emphasize the point, then he came walking back round to sit down on his chair facing me. I nodded in reply to him but I was non-committal; there was a certain amount of elitism showing in his talk and I didnt appreciate it, not one little bit. And no just the thing itself but the way he was lumping me in the same boat as him. I felt like saying: What about them ben there man they’re fucking sitting suffering!