" Curdy, haw Curdy, ya auld bastard, waken up."
The auld bastard he was yelling at was sitting slumped at the table in the Shieldmuir Bar. I didn't think Curdy was as old as folk thought he was.
He looked seventy but the drink and hard living had taken its toll. The ‘Auld Bastard’, had a flat cap pulled down over his face and he was wearing a very shiny pin-stripe suit, with a faded and frayed dirty white shirt. The collar was open, revealing a filthy yellow semmit. His fly gaped above his straight crossed legs, at the bottom of which flopped a pair of steel toe capped boots. The leather had been worn away on both boots and the steel caps were shining through the holes at the toes. Both hands were in his trouser pockets.
The bar decor was no better. The place was run down, Doreen, the cleaner, only came in on a Sunday and Wednesday morning for two hours. She brushed the flagstones then ran a nearly bald mop round the floor to keep down the dust. The place hadn't been decorated or painted in God knows how many years. The walls were hung sparingly with old black and white photographs of the local steelworks, intermixed with group photos of men at work and play
The island gantry was circular, oak, with angels and cherubs carved in the uprights. The shelves dirty mirrors reflected dusty wine and spirit bottles on the surfaces. There were stained glass panels intermittently placed showing steelworkers at work doing various tasks, reflecting the local industry.
In the centre of the gantry a large round black and white clock with a marbled face and only one hand proclaimed " NO TICK". A long double line of optics with impressive and middling expensive spirits hung from the wood. The counter held a group of five pumps on each side with different types of ale, beer, stout and lager. The brewer’s logo Tennents, was represented with a large red T on each pump. Thin bar towels were staggered round the surface with ashtrays and ceramic water jugs in between.
At one time this alehouse would have been very splendid indeed but dirt and grime and the years of neglect had taken their toll. The ornate bar sat in the middle of the space surrounded by rickety oak playing tables. These were drinking tables with a second surface underneath to hold the drinks, keeping the top clear for cards or dominoes. Both were played on a regular basis and for serious money.
Sitting on the table in front of Curdy, was a pint tumbler holding a half-inch of warm beer. It was 6.30 am, the pub had been open all night but Big John Black had only just came in, he was looking for Curdy to put his betting line on for him as he was going to work and wouldn't be near the bookies all day. Cassidy's ‘Shovel’ was next door to the pub making it easy for the auld bastard.
John, while keeping an eye on Curdy, picked up the near empty pint. He laughed quietly to himself as he urinated in the tumbler. This raised the content to half full. Grinning, he handed the now warm tumbler to Alex the barman and asked him to top it up with light beer. Alex turned his back and filled the glass from a pump on the other side of the bar. He shook his head as he handed the pint to big John, who placed it on the table in front of the old man. He kicked the auld guy’s feet. Curdy woke with a jump, he sat bolt upright and fixed his cap on his head with one swipe, on seeing the pint he asked,
" Is that fur me big man?"
" Aye mate, fill yir boots.”
He winked at Alex, and nodded. Alex shook his head and took a sip of his tea, disassociating himself from the whole affair. Curdy sniffed the pint and after taking a breath, he swallowed it in one. He banged the tumbler down hard on the table. Curdy looked sternly at big John before exclaiming loudly,
" Fur Christ sake, A've found a cure fur cancer."
The big man laughed saying,
" Yir aff yir heid ya auld arsehole."
He took a piece of paper with a fiver wrapped in it from his pocket and said to Curdy.
" Here, will yie pit this line oan fur me? A huv tae get tae work and A'm naewhare near a bookies. If it comes up A'll see yie awright."
"Whit aboot seein me awright the noo?"
"A've already bought yie a pint ya auld chancer. Whit mair dae yie want? Fur fuck sake"
"Whit aboot a pint that disnae smell ae pish?"
" Christ yie knew that, and yie still drank it?"
" Aye, A'm an alkie, A've no gote a choice but you ya bastard were takin a liberty."
" Look, are yie pittin this bet oan fur me?"
John held the line out to Curdy who took it and put it straight into his jacket pocket.
" Right, A'm away noo, mind Curdy,pit that line oan and A'll see yie okay if it comes in."
Waving his right hand as he walked out the door, he called, " See yie efter Alex."
Alex answered," Aye nae doobt big man."
Auld Curdy took the line from his pocket and removed the fiver, he screwed the line up and threw it in the air, on the way down he volleyed it into the corner. He offered the fiver to Alex saying "a half pint ae light Alex and a wee dram ae black boatle, if you please my good man."
The barman shook his head and did as he was asked. He offered the drinks to the auld bastard saying " that's an awffie chance yir taking Curdy, he's a bad and an evil piece ae business when he's angered, are yie sure yie want tae dae this?"
"Alex, he gambled his line wiz gonnae win, A've jist gambled it's gonnie lose. It's a fifty fifty bet either way."
He rubbed his hands together and said to the whisky, " here's tae guid fortune."
