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Tales of the City #6

7 September 2011 By 9 Comments

The scene is the building I live in. Utter chaos. Extensive stoor.

Very Dirty Workman: OK then, that’s us. We’ll be off then.

hesitates

Er, can I ask you something though?

Me: Yes, what is it?

VDW: Er, well, I just wondered. Are you a minister or something?

Me:  Er, well, yes, as it happens. Why?

Take a careful pantomime look at self to check whether clericals are being worn, despite knowing that they are not having just returned from clergy conference.

Yes, I’m the priest along at St Mary’s Cathedral, how did you know?

VDW: Well, it was the way you’ve been with us. You’ve been, you know, calm. And just, well, the way you are. You can tell like. I used to live next to a minister, you see.

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Tales of the City #5

30 January 2011 By 6 Comments

The scene is Pollokshaws Road. (That’s the South Side). After midnight.

Me: Oh, please no. Please don’t throw that in there.

The refuse collector throws the clerical collar into the refuse truck and turns.

Refuse Collector #1: What pal?

Me: Oh, that’s mine, it dropped out of my pocket and you picked it up with the other rubbish and threw it in.

Refuse Collector #1: What is it, anyway?

Me: Oh, its a clerical collar. Er…I’m a priest.

I do a brief but elegent mime, the better to explain what a clerical collar is.

Refuse Collector #1: Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get it. I’ll have to climb into the truck though.

An attempt is made to climb into the truck.

Refuse Collector #2: What is it, what’s he lost?

The first refuse collector mumbles something and repeats the earlier mime.

Refuse Collector #1: Here, I’ll get it with the picker-up.

He produces a device, reaches into the refuse truck, retrieves the collar and hands it back.

Refuse Collector #1: Here it is pal. Oh…..well….you could wash it, I guess.

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Tales of the City #4

14 September 2008 By 17 Comments

Upon stepping out into the street this morning at about 8 am, I saw out of the corner of my eye a person walking up Great Western Road, towards St Mary’s wearing not a stitch of clothing.

She walked with quite a determined gait and then disappeared into a sidestreet.

She did not come to the early mass.

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Tales of the City #3

14 October 2007 By 16 Comments

The scene is Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow at 8 pm on a Sunday evening. I am making my way to see a film about the impossibility of love between two men, one from Nablus (a city of some significance to the Samaritans, interestingly enough given this morning’s Gospel reading) and one from Tel Aviv. I’m in a hurry.

Interlocutor: Ahem!

Me: er, …

Interlocutor: Ahem, excuse me please Sir. Could you help me?

Me: er, I don’t know, what is it?

Interlocutor: Could you tell me the way to the nearest striptease bar establishment?

Me: No, I’m afraid I don’t think I can. I have to admit, I don’t know.

Interlocutor: Oh, I’m sorry for disturbing you. But please, …

Me: Yes?

Interlocutor: Who then could I ask?

Me: I’m sorry, I don’t know.

He wanders off and I hurry to the GFT.

Now, I ask you, do I look like a person who knows where the nearest strip joint is? Do I even look like someone who knows to whom this question should be directed?

I know I used to live above just such an establishement whilst I was pretending to be a residential student in the TISEC flat and pretending to learn something from studying at New College. But that was a long time ago.

And that was Edinburgh.

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Tales of the City #2

25 July 2007 By Leave a Comment

The scene is the barber’s shop. I stand framed in the doorway and am greeted by Jamie the Barber.

Jamie the Barber: Phew!

Self: I’d like a haircut.

Jamie the Barber: You’re in the right place sir. Just come over here and sit yourself down.

A pause.

Jamie the Barber: I’ll just… if you don’t… hang on a minute.

Jamie the Barber removes his T-shirt. He stands and looks at me in the mirror. I look at Jamie the Barber who is now stripped to the waist.

Jamie the Barber: Its just too hot sir. Phew. That’s better. The T-shirt was getting… er, damp. Time for a fresh shirt.

Jamie the Barber walks across the shop, takes a shirt from a hanger and calmly puts it on. He buttons it up carefully, from bottom to top, leaving the top two buttons undone.

Jamie the Barber: Now sir, what will it be?

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Tales of the City

19 June 2007 By 6 Comments

A knock at the door. I answer it to find a young man wearing black T-shirt, black shorts (were they boxer shorts?) and no shoes or socks.

Me: Hello

Him: Er hello.

Me: Can I help.

Him: Er, I was just wondering if you had any white wine vinegar.

Me: Oh, hang on a minute.

Him: I’m from downstairs.

Me: Well, how about this? It is cider vinegar.

Him: Oh, Thanks, but no, it needs to be white wine vinegar.

Me: Sorry, what are you making?

Him: Oh, err, no. It is for the windows.

Me: Oh right… Well, I’m Kelvin.

Him: Oh right. Err yes, I’m David. Hi.

Me: Hi.

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