Friends and readers.
Summer is upon us and the winter woollies have been put away, for a couple of weeks anyway, and we are all able to enjoy what the warmer weather and brighter days and nights brings us. Yes friends we can avoid if possible the uneven pavements as we amble our way along, and avoid the leg breaking potholes as we cross the road, the potholes that our bestest mate Lesley prada Hinds said didn’t exist.
The waft of freshly laid dog shit passes our nostrils as does the discarded carry out wrappings from the numerous grease parlours that blot the face of the landscape. The discarded shopping trolleys and the soiled mattresses don’t seem to bother us as much when the sun is shining or is it perhaps we have grown accustomed to these little delights. Loud unidentifiable music blares out of open windows and the cry of ”Turn that fucking crap down” is frequently heard as the natives blast out their versions of the jungle drums.
Neds on stolen motor bikes give us their version of the TT races which we can all enjoy as we wait and wait and wait in the queue in Scotmid. In fact we were told that one unlucky punter went in in March to buy fags and the Daily Star only to see Xmas trees in punters windows when he eventually came out, plastic ones of course, you know the ones that come complete with dodgy fairy lights that rarely work the way they are pictured on the box which by the way takes an axe to open.
The grass growing out of the pavements offers a sweet scent of dog piss as does the blocked sewars which are never cleaned [where's cammy when you need him] while the gentle sea breeze carries losing lottery tickets in the air and crumpled betting slips, alongside Greggs paper bags. Yes dear friends it’s summer in the North for a short time anyway, where the foxes breed and the other wild life, the two legged variety put on their shorts and tee shirts revealing exactly what a harsh winter it was and how many carry out’s they were forced to eat.
Football tops are worn by people who should know better and clearly have never seen a football or haven’t for a very long time, shorts which reveal legs of all shapes and sizes most of which would put you off your tea, as the punters try to grab what sun there is, and judging by the tan lines, the red ones, not been to clever about it. And as always winter or summer we have the secretive Forth Neighbourhood Partnership or Willie community socialist Black and his cronies who can and do spend the rent payers account money on whatever the fuck they want, bar a few scrapes that are thrown to the natives to shut them up.
Yes dear friends it’s summer time in the North and the living is anything but easy, unless you live in the same street as Lesley Prada Hinds whose residents have enjoyed newly tarred pavements again and a serious lack of potholes, just a coincidence isn’t it.