James Kelman - Greyhound for Breakfast

They laughed and strode away with their arms linked together. That was actually a daft thing to do and showed the difference between them and somebody who was more grown up — anybody, no just Tracy, they would have said aye or naw or something but no just a silly laugh. That was how if he had done something, if he had met her after school, what would’ve happened? where would they’ve went? Imagine any of the guys seeing him! No chance. She was just too wee, or she acted too wee; weanish, too weanish. Tracy’s figure was like a woman, it was how she got into pubs. She just didnt fancy him but. It was the truth and she had made it plain. She just didnt fancy him. You wondered how that happened. She didnt even seem to see him and sometimes he was staring right at her, it was funny. But that was the same with the rest of them, it was just older guys she was interested in.

Hey Chanty! It was Smit. He had appeared from a close.

Gary scowled at him: What you wanting ya wee bastard?

Any fags?

Gary continued walking.

Heh Gary that bird there, that Catholic, she fancies you.

Shut your fucking mouth.

Smit laughed. She’s no got any diddies!

What did you say there! Gary had stopped dead and he grabbed Smit and punched him hard on the shoulder.

Oh ya bastard. . Smit swung round with his boot and caught Gary just below the right knee.

Ya wee. . Gary clenched his teeth and rubbed at it.

You shouldnt’ve fucking done that! shouted Smit.

Gary was glaring at him and his breath came harshly: I’m going to fucking batter you if ye keep annoying me — alright!

Smit stood where he was. And Gary lunged at him and got him by the neck and he bunched his left fist close to his face. Alright! he cried.

Take your hands off! shouted Smit.

A man in overalls was watching them from a shop doorway up ahead.

Gary let him go after a moment. I’m just warning you, he muttered.

Aye well just take your hands off!

Go and fucking leave us alone then! cried Gary.

Ya bastard, said Smit.

Gary stood with his hands on his hips then he cleared his throat and spat at the ground to the side of Smit and Smit moved off, taking the first steps back the way. Gary remained until a distance of about 30 yards separated them.

He went into the shop and bought a box of matches. Smit had disappeared when he came out. Freedom at last.

A man walked out of the sea one February morning dressed in a boilersuit & bunnet, and wearing a tartan scarf which had been tucked crosswise under each oxter to be fastened by a safety-pin at a point roughly centre of his shoulder blades; from his neck swung a pair of heavy boots whose laces were knotted together. He brought what must have been a waterproof tobacco-pouch out from a pocket, because when he had rolled a smoke he lighted the thing using a kind of Zippo (also from the pouch) and puffed upon it with an obvious relish. It was an astonishing spectacle.

Hastening over to him I exclaimed: Christ Almighty jimmy, where’ve you come from?

Back there, he muttered oddly and made to proceed on his path.

At least let me give you a pair of socks! I said. But he shook his head. No. . I’m not supposed to.

Sandy had been leading me around all morning in a desire to impress — to interest me in him and in this place where he earned his living, also to show his workmates that here he was with his very own learner. He explained various workings and techniques of the machines and asked if I had any queries but not to worry if I didnt because at this stage it was unlikely though I would soon become familiar with it all, just so long as I took it easy and watched everything closely. Gradually he was building to the climax of his own machine. Here I was to learn initially. Up and down he strode patting its parts and referring to it as her and she as if it was a bus or an old-fashioned sailing ship. She wont let you down Jimmy is the sort of stuff he was giving me. The machine was approximately twenty-five feet in length and was always requiring attention from the black squad; but even so, it could produce the finest quality goods of the entire department when running to her true form. Placing me to the side in such a way that I could have an unrestricted view he kicked her off. He was trying hard not to look too pleased with himself. Every now and then he shifted stance to ensure I was studying his movements. His foot was going on the pedal while his right hand was holding the wooden peg-like instrument through which he played the coiled wire between the middle and forefingers of his left hand out onto the rolling section of the apparatus. At one point he turned to make a comment but a knot had appeared on the wire, jamming on the wooden instrument and ripping off the top end of his thumb while the machine continued the rolling operation and out of the fleshy mess spiralled a hair-thin substance like thread being unrolled from a bobbin somewhere inside the palm, and it was running parallel to the wire from the coil. Sandy’s eyes were gazing at me in a kind of astonished embarrassment until eventually he collapsed, just a moment before one of his workmates elbowed me clear in order to reach the trip-safety-rail.

That moment after sunrise I saw the troop of figures appear, then round the head of the loch, the Red Cockatoos. I was totally enraptured of the scene, unable to even reflect on how my own feelings were. The morning was so mild, so very mild and clear, perhaps the most mild and most clear of the entire summer. There too was the strange purity of air, almost an emanation from the pure loch water. If this scene could have reminded me of anything it could only have been of the Horsemen of Harris as witnessed by Martin Martin more than two hundred years ago. And yet, perhaps I speak only of the day itself, the actual atmosphere, the light and aural texture, for what could ever be likened to the figures I was now seeing? I was an intruder, and beholding a vision so awful that at once I myself had been transformed into victim. I could see them distinctly, the troop of almost thirty, the red circles of their faces, the unquiet, seeming to contain a frenzy. And a figure had moved too quickly and bumped into the figure in front and the laughter of the pair was immediate, and nervous too, scarcely controlled at all, revealing the anticipation of an event so horrible that hackles arose on the back of my neck, the hairs rising, on the back of my neck; and a shiver crossed my shoulders, I was having to fight hard to resist it, this terror. And were they now moving in single file? They were; rounding the head of the loch still, their hats prominent, and their old-fashioned frock-coats. I was seeing them from the rear, their voice-sounds muted but already having taken on a new air, a new sense of something, some unknown thing perhaps and yet known too, as though from the depth of a folk memory, the metamorphosis now reaching the later stages. When they vanished I had to jump onto my feet and twist and turn this way and that in my effort to find them; but they were there, they were there, only behind some foliage, not by intention hiding, being unaware of we watchers.

I relaxed and prepared to wait, sitting now with my elbows resting on my knees, gazing lochwards, away from the retreating figures. And gradually my mind had discovered its own concentration. I remembered Miller’s tale of the loch wherein lies an island and on that island is a loch wherein lies an island and on that island is a loch wherein lies an island and so on and so forth to that ultimate island. And I envisaged the ancient female seer on that ultimate island’s throne squinting at the world with — yes, her irreverent twinkle but also a coldness there too, for the fallibility, the presumption. When I arrived in the glade an elderly woman was there amongst us who did remind me of the ancient seer for she too had a coldness about her that might well have taken my breath away on a different occasion; and lurking there too was an amused expression which I did not like, I could not have liked. This elderly woman was a person set back a pace from the main body, preferring to allow others to take the floor.