The oldest punk in Scotland and nae bran scones

I spent yesterday in East Kilbride. I’d never been there before yesterday and I am unlikely to be back. Actually it was Hairmyres rather than East Kilbride. Hairmyres sounds like a medical condition.

- Doctor, my head is itching like mad.
- I suspect you’ve got Hairmyres son. These tablets should clear it up.
- What if they don’t?
- Well we’ll fumigate the little buggers. That should sort it once and for all.

I was on the bus at 6.30am and was stunned when half way up Leith Walk a punk got on. Now, you don’t see punks very often these days. I mean real punks. Safety pins and that. Mohawk haircuts and tartan troosers. Even more unusual though was that this punk was pushing 50 and was marginally overweight. An unusual but slightly amusing start to the day. Bet he has a “Punk’s not dead” tattoo on him somewhere.

After that it was the 7am train to Glasgow. That’s the bleary eye express if I ever saw it. Everyone looking at their feet rather than running the risk of someone striking up an early morning conversation. When I arrived in Glasgow I had to make my way to Central Station.

Just round the corner from Central Station is a Greggs the Bakers and I decided I fancied a couple of bran scones for the train. I entered and in standard Scottish patois (half a dozen double negatives and a question instead of a request) said to the girl behind the counter “You couldnae butter me a couple of bran scones no?”

“Whit?” came the reply and by the look on her face I’d swear I had just asked her to butcher me a goat.

“We only dae fruit or plain”

So it seems that the salt and sauce/salt and vinegar issue isn’t the only culinary difference between the East and West of my native land. It seems that Bran Scones are exclusively an East coast gig as well. Oh well, healthier eaters through here obviously.

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