FOR five lang years, we’ve been lívin the lives o transients – ma wife an me, ah mean, but mebbe ye’re the same yersel. Oor flat, oor furniture, oor freendships; place-hauders aw, for the better things we promised oorsels but lairnt tae live withoot. We’re no unhappy, like – we hivnae ony richt tae be. We’re jist ploddin alang, like a jakey weighed doon on wan side bi a cairry-oot; listin, listin, ayeweys tae the left, turnin oor vast, slow circles an tellin oorsels we’re heidit somewhaur.
Well boo bloody hoo, eh. Mebbe that’s jist whit fowk mean when they talk aboot “the human condition” – ye hit the age Samuel Beckett wis his hale life, an ye realise this is it, the hale baw gemme, a lang sequence o identical street-lichts leadin aff intae a dimmer an dimmer nicht. Plus ca chynge, an aw that.
READ MORE: It's up tae us tae trace ower Alasdair Gray's Glesga anew
But it’s no jist us. It’s the same aw ower. The flats aroond oors, a fast-motion montage o social mobility set tae a Billy Joel sang – fowk muive in, fowk faw oot, fowk muive on. The nearest thing we’ve got tae neebours are the Polish wirkies that sweep in efterhaun tae clear oot aw the stoor, pit everythin back whaur they ween it’s meant tae be. As ah pass them in the stairwell, ah treat them tae a wee display o white liberal piety gussied up as a supportive smile. They stare back at me in sorrow.
The guid feelin ah accrue fae this bargain-basement show o solidarity, this easy dissolution o guilt, lasts wan quick turn o the landin afore it hits me. It’s no theirsels they’re feelin sorry for. It’s me.
Cause it’s a testament, ah suppose, tae this mutant strain o British jingoism that, like mould, it’ll grow onywhaur, withoot encouragement, in even the deepest crannies o the gentlest herts. Ma Polish pals’ll be awricht – they’ve a hale continent tae awa an choose fae, an there’s naethin partícularly special aboot ma ain wee corner o it. The notion that ah’m the wan that’s leavin THEM in the lurch is straicht frae the lucky midden o British exceptionalism, thon post-apocalyptic pile o Beefeater teddy bears an snottery Union Jack hankies.
Fowk faw oot. Fowk muive on. Fowk get left ahint.
But thon’s the kind o navel-gazin that’ll get us naewhaur fast, ah dout ... An mebbe it IS time tae get on wi the day job, even if oor day job consists entirely o tellin ither fowk tae get on wi theirs. But whit even IS the day job, ony mair? Whit are oor shared goals, oor common warks? Whaur are we strivin tae gang?
Ah’m no wan o thae fowk that’s nostalgic for things that happened afore they were born. Ah dinnae want tae scrub ma punders in a burn; ah’m gled that ah’m no deid o dysentery or plague. But thon o us that wis born efter 1979 can agree wi Maggie Thatcher on wan thing at least: “There’s nae sic thing as society”. Cause if there ever wis, we wirnae alive tae see it.
READ MORE: Photies or ye didnae happen: Life withoot Twitter …
An ah dinnae credit everythin ma mither says – but when she talks aboot “community”, thon whimsical La La Land that stairtit wi the NHS an endit wi the mines, ah kind o believe her. Ah hiv tae. If oor collective day job, as human beings, has never been the spinnin o thon capacious safety net, Society, we’ve got tae at least let on as if it wis, as if the wirk that bound us thegither wis the stitchin o sic close-weave webs that even the smawest amang us could faw an yet be saved.
But ye’ve tae pull yersel back fae the edge, here, cause ye can see the giddy road ye’re heidit doon. It’s a peerie step fae “the fracturin o local communities” tae “Britain for the British”; an fae there jist anither lowp intae … weel, God kens whit.
There’s fowk oot there wha’ll tell ye they dinnae recognise this kintrae ony mair. Chance would be a fine thing, eh. Me, ah could pick this national hotch-potch o heid-the-baws oot o a line-up ony day o the week. This United Kingdom is wan hunner percent the place ah grew up in, an if it’s chynged at aw, ah’ll tak austerity, recession, an the monetisation o aw sellable sentiments for the reasons why, lang afore ah’ll get roond tae blamin the wee Dutch guy that wirks doon the youth centre.
Fowk faw oot. Fowk muive on. Fowk get left ahint. An aw the while, here’s me an you, staunin ‘neath the clock at Glesga Central, waitin for the Godot o some kinder warld.
Sae naethin’s chynged, eh? Then whit wis aw thon havers aboot transience at the stairt? Och, wha kens – cept mebbe that the readiness for chynge is itsel a kind o stasis, an that there’s naethin stiller in aw the warld than a sprinter crouched eternally for the stairter’s gun. Actually, forget thon image, here’s a better yin – a yappy dug thirlt tae a lamp-post, rinnin an rinnin an gawin naewhaur. A Scottie dug, if ye like, an ye think the thing needs spellin oot. Whit the lamp-post is, ah’ll leave that up tae you.
Why are you making commenting on The National only available to subscribers?
We know there are thousands of National readers who want to debate, argue and go back and forth in the comments section of our stories. We’ve got the most informed readers in Scotland, asking each other the big questions about the future of our country.
Unfortunately, though, these important debates are being spoiled by a vocal minority of trolls who aren’t really interested in the issues, try to derail the conversations, register under fake names, and post vile abuse.
So that’s why we’ve decided to make the ability to comment only available to our paying subscribers. That way, all the trolls who post abuse on our website will have to pay if they want to join the debate – and risk a permanent ban from the account that they subscribe with.
The conversation will go back to what it should be about – people who care passionately about the issues, but disagree constructively on what we should do about them. Let’s get that debate started!
Callum Baird, Editor of The National
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereLast Updated:
Report this comment Cancel