Funerals

My head was thumping and my mouth was as dry as a stick. I had been at my Mother's funeral the day and night before. It was early morning when I got to bed in my daughter Angela and her husband's new home in Wishaw. I felt really rough and desperate for some kind of liquid, any liquid would do, to help me to open my mouth. After swinging my legs onto the floor and securing my arms on the settee bed. I attempted to rise. Surprisingly, I made it on the first go. While scratching my arse, I wandered into the kitchen looking for the kettle.

The coffee was hiding. Most people put their coffee in clearly marked jars on the worktop, in groups of the usual three normally. Not my Ang. I couldn't find it, I opened every cupboard and moved everything about. At last, behind the porridge on the top shelf, there it was, a chrome tin with the words, COFFEE. I scooped a heaped teaspoonful into the mug, and proceeded to look for my cigarettes with the one eye that was working. The other needed constant attention; I rubbed it and twisted my knuckle into it, as I searched. I found a twenty packet in my coat pocket with only one missing. Right, let's get outside now and have a coffee and a fag.

The keys were missing, from the front and back doors. Don't people usually leave the keys in the locks? Eventually, after pouring the contents of my daughter's bag all over her kitchen table, I located the front door key. Just as I opened the door, I remembered to put my trousers on, and the shirt from yesterday. After placing the mug of coffee on the outside window ledge, I lit a cigarette and drew deeply, I coughed on the smoke, so I drank from the mug, and got a mouthful of broken windscreen. It was ground coffee for the coffee-making machine; I swallowed anyway, as I desperately needed the liquid and the caffeine.

Three cigarette's later, and after showering and dressing, I phoned my brother Tommy. " Hi, Tommy, how are yie? Whit time is the train to Clydebank? "

" Aye, well I feel as good as you sound. Be at the station for eight thirty, the train's comes at eight forty two, I'll meet you there."

We were going to attend our Aunts funeral in Glasgow and although having buried our Auld Maw the day before, and were hung over, we couldn't possibly miss offering our respects to Aunt Hanna and her family.

We boarded the train at Wishaw, I asked Tommy " Where's Joe?"

" Aw, He's gettin on at Wishaw south, the next station down the line."

The train stopped there but there was no sign of our young brother Joe, just after the train pulled away, Tommy's phone rang, he answered and put it on loudspeaker to let me hear.

" Hallo, are you two bastards oan that bliddy train whose arse I can just see disappearing round the corner there?"

" Aye, we are. Look Joe, we have to change at Partick for Clydebank, so we'll git yie there okay."

" Right, okay, the next wan's in half an hour, I'll meet yiz there."

We alighted at Partick and my older brother Tommy,who doesn't drive, is used to public transport, and has an encyclopaedic knowledge of bus and rail networks.

" There's a wee cafe down there under that bridge, A think maybe we've goat time furra coffee and a roll on bacon, before oor Joe and that train he's getting on comes in, whit dae yie think? Dae yie fancy it?"

" Aye"

One of the strange things about oor Tommy, and there's quite a few. Is he bears more than a passing resemblance to the great Anthony Hopkins? He doesn't think so, but sometimes it's frightening. We were both dressed for a funeral, wearing,long black coats, white shirts and black ties. Tommy is six foot tall and carries himself well.

Our old Father Joe, was always saying " straighten yir shoulders there, look the world in the eye and let it know yir comin."

Whatever the hell that meant. All his children, because of this, walk with straight backs and square shoulders.

As we walked towards the cafe, we were being watched by two police officers, one female, the other on the turn. The female stared at who she thought was Anthony Hopkins.

Tommy dug me in the ribs. " Dae yie fancy a laugh ?"

" Aw naw, whit you uptae?"

We are from Craigneuk in Wishaw, (Motherwell and Wishaw,are famous for coal and steel. Craigneuk, is famous for stealing coal.) And as well as walking well, we were brought up to be wary of the police, and to rip their knitting at every opporchancity. Tommy, speaking to the male officer, while effecting an Oxford or Cambridge type accent, said as he inclined his head in their direction.

" Good morning officers, " They replied similarly. " Am I correct in assuming, that below yonder bridge, there is a hostelry, or indeed a cafe, where one may partake of a bacon roll and perhaps consume a coffee to boot."

The officer replied, " Eh, yes sir, you're right, there is a cafe below that bridge, just as you say."

Tommy replied, abruptly, " thank you officer, and, good day to you."

The female, now certain that she was in the presence of a famous Hollywood film star, began, " excuse me sir, but are you......"
Tommy cut her off with a brusque, " certainly not!"

We continued on under the bridge to the cafe. The coffee and bacon rolls were magnificent, and just what was required. We were sitting at an outside table, enjoying a cigarette with the coffee, when Tommy said, while nodding across the road " aw naw she's back. "

The police officers had come down for another look, to see if Anthony Hopkins was enjoying his bacon roll at a greasy spoon, under a bridge in Partick, as unlikely as that was. Tommy, turning his back as they passed, denied them their confirmation. We returned to Partick train station just as Joe's train drew in.

Joe came off the train and joined us, saying. " That wiz some night last night wiz it no? At least auld Cathy, Goad rest her auld soul, hud a guid send aff. Ma heid feels like it's ready tae burst. Whit aboot you two?"

I answered. " Naw we're fine, we've just hud a great coffee and a cuppla bacon rolls in a wee cafe doon below the bridge there, haven't we Tommy?"

" Eh, aye, great bacon rolls, and the sauce wisnae the cheap stuff. Aw naw, the very best ae tack. No even HP, it wiz Daddies sauce. The coffee wiz guid tae. A good big truckers mug, and red-hot. Goad aye, a really good breakfast that wiz. Wintit Paul?"

Joe's head was tennis courting between the two of us and his mouth was watering, he licked his hungover lips and said. "Of course, being my brothers, yiz thought aboot me, and yiz got me a cuppla they guid rolls, didn't yiz?"

" Did you git Joe a roll Paul?"

" Naw, did you Tommy?"

" Naw a didnae." Joe's face dropped, he was clearly disappointed.
I reached into my coat pocket and produced a polystyrene cup, while saying. " Naw A didnae git yie a roll Joe, A goat yie a coffee"

Tommy produced a white bag with twisted corners and said " And A didnae git yie a roll Joe, A goat yie two rolls."

Joe, smiling, said " pair ae bastards." The Clydebank train arrived. All the bastards boarded.

After the rites were performed. Auld Hanna was put to rest. We were asked to attend a reception to celebrate her life, in the prestigious Oran Mor public house and restaurant. After removing my coat and sitting down, I asked my brothers if they would like a hair of the dog from the bar. " Oh yes." was the answer. I went to the bar with wallet in hand and ordered two pints of lager and a pint of heavy. The barman informed me there was no need for the wallet till one o-clock, as it was a free bar till then. I, taking advantage of my cousin’s good will, ripped the arse oot it and ordered a double Glenmorangie, along with my pint of heavy. I immediately downed the whisky and joined Joe with the drinks. "Where's Tommy?"
" He's away tae see Mrs Murphy. (Toilet)."

" It's a free bar Joe."

" Ya belter." Joe got up and came back with two double whiskies, one for himself and one for Tommy. We both made sure that, only we went to the bar, until the free bar had stopped.

At quarter past one, I said to Tommy, " Are you no thinkin ae gittin a round in? Yi've sat there like a Jakie aw day and we've been pouring drink intae yie."

" Aye, settle right doon. A coodnae git a chance, you two were jumpin up tae the bar like a pair ae alkies. Whit yiz wantin?"

" A'll huv a double Glenmorangie and a pint ae heavy."

Joe piped up, " Aye, a pint ae lager and a double McAllan."

Tommy just stared at him, " A McAllan is it? Only the dearest bliddy malt in the shoap, a double McAllan? "

"Well it's whit A've been drinkin aw day, A'm no gonnae change noo am A?"

Tommy, shaking his head, went to the bar. He returned with the drinks and moaned, " Eighteen pounds and forty six pence for that round. Bloody dear hole this, is it no?"

Joe answered, " A coodnae tell yie, it's been a free bar uptae noo, hasn't it Paul?"

I Just nodded.

We left the Oran Mor shortly after and spent some time in my cousin Martin and Wilma's home in Milngavie, where we had a surprisingly wonderful evening, considering the circumstances. I believe both Mothers were given a good send off and both lives were celebrated.

Whoever they are, I've heard they say, " We cry at weddings and laugh at funerals." On this occasion at least, they proved to be correct. On the way home,I happened to catch the reflection of the three of us sitting on the train.
We were smiling.