Saturday

The Leaving Tree



For breakfast this morning I took an early morning drive through the remnants of the housing scheme that once spawned some of Glasgow's most frightening looking men. Of course, back in the day they were merely angelic wee monsters playing fitba and pavie with the fresh faced girls that seemed to spring up from every back street scheme in Glasgow. It would take many hardships and another twenty years before a handful of them would evolve into the Rubik's cube of characters that went on to become my life long friends.

Of course, the schemes have changed dramatically since my youth. No longer does poverty hang over this particular part of the city, the developers and prosperity long since moved in and forced the urban decay back across the brown bubbling waters of the Clyde. Where once stood crumbling brick and soot blackened buildings, elbowing each other for room to breathe amongst the dank tower blocks and high flats, now stands epic glass offices. The old entrances are festooned with gleaming luxury cars, exotic names and business suited drones faxing their way to another days wealth doing something superficial, but very beneficial to a rich man and his pockets.
Set in the heart of this Armani jungle is a small sandwich shop which has been trading since time began. It hasn't changed much on the inside other than renovate the warm walls with the same sandy red colour that was first introduced back in 1976. It was considered to be 'cosmopolitan' back then, the majority of eating establishments still favouring the dour lime and yellow walls that invaded the 70s with a psychedelic haze that certainly didn't enhance the limited choices of food on offer. Grease seemed to be the in-flavour, coated on everything from the plates to the walls and in some cases even the ceilings.

Glinting warmly in the thin sunshine of the day, four aluminium table sets are grouped cosily beneath a brightly green coloured tree that encapsulates the slowly rising Glasgow sun. I've watched that tree grow ever taller since I was a gangly wean. Two men about to enter their 50's sat at either side of the far table. A bottle of whisky before them, blatantly flaunting the public morals regarding the consumption of alcohol on a Saturday morning, but this is Glasgow after all. The slate grey stubble forming on the tallest ones chin indicated he hadn't been long in from the previous evening somewhere in the city. On seeing my vehicle arrive he nonchalantly poured me a glass without asking the question first. But then he could afford to prejudge my decision, he was my brother and knew my tastes well.
As we sat in our jacket attire, it would have been easy for passers-by to assume that we were part of the backwash of Glasgow's yesteryear. Three worn faced men with an accumulation of facial scars not dissimilar to a cross-radial tyre. Life hadn't so much been cruel to any of the three of us, merely reflexes and circumstances had not always gone to plan as situations in our youth had transpired. From those staring down from their office block kingdoms, an easy assumption would have been that we could well be discussing a green-lit scenario on someone who had gotten too big for their britches.

In reality, our deep conversation involved a more serious argument on something of an entirely different nature. Should the skin be left on the tender white flesh of a free range chicken as it enters the phase of a delicious sandwich in the making? How long must a Bavarian ham be left in the smoker before the flavour becomes full on and dances on the taste buds? Is it considered bad form to use anything other than crushed black pepper when preparing a mayonnaise fit for the menu of any decent restaurant? And so the conversation turned, all be it intrinsic enough for us to move on to smooth black coffee as the June weather increased its sunshine levels by just a wee tad. Life had moved on from the old days, but three happier men could not have been found on that street. Where once any of the small assembled group, hard set eyes and shoulders that began at our chins, could have parted the Red Sea without pausing for breath. We now excused ourselves as we briefly took phone calls regarding grand weans, garden clubs and at one point discussed the quality of a friends new leather shoes.

It is the end of my routine, a last chance glimpse of my daily Glasgow life as I prepare to begin again in my pastures new. It is not the culture or the weather that will be the hardest to loosen my grip upon. It is friendship and camaraderie that has engulfed me throughout my formative years and supported me through the thick and thin of my life to date. Acquaintances come and acquaintances go, akin to wallpaper on a bar room wall, the in's and outs of women's fashion, like leaves on a tree they fall only to be replaced by similar things aesthetic only to the eye, never the heart. Solid foundations are formed on the bedrock of routine, those around us, and the feelings that certain places carve in our souls. We cannot rake over our youth, but it is the maturity of our friendship that has forged a bond for our futures. Sadly, not all of us are present at that table as we each remember our past. Like leaves from the winter tree, some of us fall and are never seen again.


Darcy's Piece

150g roast chicken, shredded
6 rashers smoky streaky bacon
Thinly sliced Swiss or American cheese
1 gherkin, press gently to lessen the taste of the vinegar and chop
Small bunch tarragon – leaves removed, finely chopped
75g watercress leaves (thick stalks removed)
6 – 8 Tbsp mayonnaise
2 Slices thick sliced white bloomer or French stick
Salt & pepper to taste, small dod of butter

Method:
1. Place the chunks of chicken evenly along your piece
2. Layer the melted cheese along the top of the chicken
3. Crisp the skin from the chicken, using a fork, shred it.
4. Crisp the bacon lightly, combine with the chicken, mayonnaise & tarragon leaves.
5. Add salt & pepper to taste, adjust consistency of the sandwich filling mixture.
6. Spread the butter & on one side of both slices of bread. Place sandwich filling on one of the slices, add cress and season lightly. Wash down with cool Danish lager to enhance the full flavours.

34 comments:

  1. Don't be sad. You're not going to Australia and your pals and bro are only a short flight away.
    Shared memories will bind you until death.

    The last time I was driven through Bristol my heart sank at the endless 'glass offices' still being erected - for what reason?
    Your gorgeous cook fests remind me it's time to get lunch for my visiting family.
    We have sun- hope you do too:)

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    1. Och hen, how thoughtful to offer me an arm about my shoulders, so typically you. The sadness is not with me though Pat, more a last look back at the way things have changed on the eve of the next stage of my life. You are quite right, Spain is less than 3 hours from my beloved Scotland, I will be returning on a frequent basis. Besides, I can never be too far away fae my beloved Celtic fitba team, eh?

      I will not get the chance to miss my brothers, all 9 of them, especially as they have decided that the new place is open house for the whole family. I'm quite happy to welcome them all, weans, bairns and long lost cousins as well by the look of the dates being proposed for future visits.

      I'm with you on the needless erections of ugly modern buildings, no good reason other than cold hard cash!

      ...and yes, we do have a spot of sun this weekend.

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    1. .....second portion if you want it doll!

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  3. it's only with those childhood friends that we can simultaneously feel young and old. when i see the girls from my childhood, we are transported in time... there's comfort there. we've made a pact to meet up at least once a year, that is NOT at a funeral.

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    1. I'd have to agree with you doll, feeling young in the company of old friends is as warm a comfort blanket as any man could ever want.

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  4. Thank you...that's lunch solved!

    I don't think I'd recognise the Glasgow I knew as a child...arriving at St. Enochs to be met by the aunts before being shunted on to the west coast...the odd illicit trip to Barrowland in the charge of an older cousin and the panic at removing the traces of watermelon consumed there...though I trust the Peoples' Palace is still intact.

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    1. St. Enochs is unchanged through time hen, as is the west coast route by car, bus or train. The Palace is still there on the green, proud, historical and a monument to every hard working Glaswegian that ever passed through the city gates. Tell me more about your west coast destination, please.

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    2. Lol, everyone remembers the Barrowlands when they have visited Glasgow. Some happy memories there myself.

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    3. As much as I like a swally myself Chef, surely a big thick chocolate malt would wash that big mama down?

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    4. Tony, milk and bacon grease? C'mon son, think of your digestion eh?

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    5. Och not the dreaded digestion line again, there's you banging on about roots and old times, have you forgotten by chance the milk bars back in the 80's where the height of cuisine was a hamburger and a milkshake? Are you telling me that McDonalds and Burger King have still got it wrong with their menus chef?

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    6. The family used to bundle up all the kids and send them off to the west coast in the summer, the parents and assorted aunts taking it in turns to act as warders for a week or so at a time.

      For some reason it was never the same place twice in a row....
      I recall Largs, Dunoon, Rothesay and Tighnabruiach - there may have been others.

      I recall paddle steamers being involved...the Jeanie Deans comes to mind though I could be mistaken....and once the whole boiling of us being loaded onto a small cargo steamer (a puffer?)complete with the more strict of the aunts who had an altercation with the skipper over smuts on our clothing and the proper regulation of his boiler...we had never imagined that she had had such a wide ranging vocabulary...

      Grand days, being taken out inshore fishing and coming home to a scolding while the fish was being cooked; damming streams and coming home to a scolding soaking wet and with no fish....and always the arguments over who was to run the messages with the oilcloth bags and who was to do the early morning run for that glory of Scotland...morning rolls.

      I could do with a morning roll again...





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    7. Ah Helen, wonderful memories, especially the Jeanie Deans steamer that operated out of Creag an Dòbhrain, on the far point of Helensborough. My home is within a stones throw of one of the places that you mention, a beautiful place to live now and then. The Jeanie was a narrow hulled boat that sailed the Clyde and brought pleasure to many. Sadly it is no more.

      Taigh na Bruaich is located along the Kyles of Bute adjacent to the very best salmon loch in Scotland, Loch Fyne. Wherever you are in the world, the finest Scottish salmon is caught and supplied to only the very best restaurants fresh from the crystal clear waters of Bute.

      Not many people outside will understand what 'messages' are, the same goes for the most wonderful of Glasgow bread rolls, 'Mortons' rolls. To this day they are still going and famed for their unique texture and taste.

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  5. Why must you spoil a perfect description of a courtyard visit by adding scarred faces and alcohol being drunkenly and illicitly consumed?

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    1. Okay, no courtyard or illicitly consumed alcohol was ever mentioned in the relating of this tale sir. Have you been swallying the alter wine by chance? Surely one with a habit of collating useless coprophagous facts should read the words more carefully before putting fingers to keys?

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  6. Haha, I take your point Tony, who am I to argue with the fortune earned by the fast food outlets who have served milk and grease to generations for many years.

    Still doesn't make it right though son, eh?

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  7. Wherever your travels take you, you can get glimpses of home through a variety of webcams. I check out the weather and tides of Falmouth harbor almost daily through the cam mounted on the fish and chip shop roof. I've also also returned to the Isle of Bute, in similar fashion.
    It can't be accidental that you crafted your post around a deep-rooted tree. Symbolic in so many ways.

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    1. Funny you should mention webcams ER, many a time I have been away and homesick, only to view Glasgow via the webcam atop the Erskine bridge. It's surprising how the heartstrings are tugged when a small glimpse of home offers more salvation than a fortnight in confession.

      Accidental, no... nice to see that my smoke and mirror words can sometimes be penetrated by those with more than a wee knowledge of the human spirit.

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  8. Such a lovely and wonderful tale of gathering with old friends.
    We should all be so lucky!

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    1. Old friends hen, they are the jewels in every mans crown. The very lifeblood of our memories so often shared with the laughter of those that were there then and are here now.

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  9. I hope you've made arrangements for a constant supply of fresh straw in Alcudia!?

    Thanks for the cheque (shiny new shovel was purchased and is being used as directed!). And thank you for the advice, you are my 'life sat-nav', I'd be lost without you! A man (whatever his stature) could not wish for a better friend.

    Away with ye now to finalise things and we'll have a few on your return.

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    1. What good is a sword without its scabbard? Laurel without his Hardy, not forgetting of course the true meaning of the friendship of the Claddagh. We are brothers ten in total, but in truth it could be eleven with yourself closer than some blood ties might have you think.

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  10. The opening pic mesmerized me. I lost my head and licked the monitor. It's not the same.

    How did your brother resist the tsunami of offers he must have received to sell the place? I'm certain a tidy profit could be made.

    You're through with Glasgow? Is Glasgow through with you?

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    1. Ah well now UB, what price a place in the heart of our precious city? How many notes make up a beautiful tune that is carried high in our hearts wherever we travel? It is about being part of the city, not merely turning the coin and becoming a drone. Something's in life are priceless, not for those who want great monoliths of glass and brick and obnoxious faceless brick about them. Three generations have broken bread, shed tears and grouped as one behind the steamy plate glass of our sandy red oasis.

      Am I through with Glesca? Simply, no... Not until they scatter me lightly on the waters of my favourite place will I let go of that dear green place we call home. Alcudia is merely a retreat fae the harshness of life. Time for me to sit back in the sun for a few months of the year and finally let go of my redemption.

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  11. I've come across that photo after eating the worst lunch possible...but the photo has now made me feel happily fed. :)

    Memories are part of who we are and I appreciate that you share yours, even if the Anti-Heathen can't stick to Christian principles and not throw stones every time he sticks his head in the door. Sigh.

    Getting back now to the grindstone after vacation, I may have missed a post or two. Is this a permanent move or one of those seasonal ones? Because if it's permanent, I'm guessing our Wee Friend might be tucking himself away in one of your suitcases. :) Either way...have fun!

    (And yes, I do owe you a lemon pie recipe).

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    1. Our zealot friend Mr Pew is akin to a bumblebee as it thrashes its wings again and again in frustration upon a net curtain as it tries to find harmony with the sunshine on the other side of the window pane. Noisily harmless, sometimes fascinating to watch in a cruel way, but otherwise no threat to a mans happiness. I see good in everyone, even the eejits.

      No hen, not a permanent move, merely a beautiful hillside retreat overlooking natures bluest of beauties under a golden sun. Health is the key here, time to rest the grey cells and escape the woes of everyday life. Siobhan and I plan to drink coffee and fill crossword puzzles of a morn without ever having to worry about looking at our watches.

      Around 10ish of the day we might take up a straw basket and wander into the market place to purchase fresh fruit and wonderful olives still ripe from their branches. Then again, we might not. A dip in the pool, or even a horseback ride into the hills might be suitable should the fancy take us. Where once I threw dirt into piles I now claim my right to enjoy what honest toil has made of me.

      I may even try my hand at making a good friends lemon pie recipe.

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  12. There's my Glaswegian poet. Your words are always such a symphony in my brain, even the less elegant descriptions because I can imagine so well the masterpieces you paint. And now you're offering up a tasty sammy. But for the tarragon, my mouth waters. I will have to try this one. But for the tarragon.

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  13. To create a perfect sandwich for the epitome of such an American beauty would be to change the course of the sun as it rises. What could one possibly present at your table when already faced with so many delicious layers of delectable female?

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    1. Holy ... Wait, the holy hellfire and bullshit I'll leave to your next commenter.

      Sir, you flatter me so. You really know how to make a girl's day. :-)

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    2. .....you should see what I can also do to make a girl's night!

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  14. First of all, you must understand that in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and following their own evil desires. They will say, "Where is this 'coming' he promised? Ever since our fathers died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation." For this they are wilfully ignorant of, that long ago by God's word the heavens existed and the earth was formed out of water and by water. By these waters also the world of that time was deluged and destroyed. By the same word the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men.

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    1. Och away son, what pure pish. Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than me standing in my garage makes me a car.

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    2. Baaaaahahaha!

      Yeah! Pew on that fodder.

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Thank you, the chef is currently preparing an answer for you in the kitchen. Do help yourself to more bread.