Document 81

Geordie Jooks an the Bleck Corn Flakes

Author(s): Robert Fairnie

Copyright holder(s): Robert Fairnie

It wis the first mornin o the April gowfin week-end at Boat-o-Garten an Geordie an his freends wis sittin roond the table in the hotel haein thair brekfast afore gaun oot tae face twa roonds on the gowf coorse that forenuin an efternuin. Geordie wis thrang an awa wi hissel pickin twa three bleck bits oot o his corn flakes an pittin thaim on the table tae the side o his plate afore he splattert a wee puckle sugar ower his flakes an poored some milk oot the joug.

Wullie hid been takin in aw that hid been gaun on an speirt, “Whit’s aw this aboot Geordie?” pyntin at the same time tae the wee gaitherin o bleck flakes.

“A’m no ower fond o thae bleck yins.” wis the repone.

“Whit for no?”

“Och, it’s juist the wey A am.” shrugged Geordie.

“Ye mean tae say ye dinnae like weel fired corn flakes?”

“Weel fired corn flakes? Thae’s no corn flakes, Wullie. It’s weel seen you hivnae seen onie o the bulk grain ships bein livert at Leith.”

“Whit’s that got tae dae wi it?” Wullie speirt.

“Weel, when the ships brings the grain fae Americae an Canadae, it’s no in bags or ocht ye ken. Ilka howld is stappit fu wi loose corn or maize or wheat. Gin ye wis tae faw intae it, aiblins ye wad micht droon. Tae liver the grain oot the howld intae the elevator, they stick twa muckle tubes intae ilka howld an they sook awthin up intae the elevator juist like twa muckle Hoovers. They sook up awthin; the corn, the stour, an thae wee bleck drappins ye aye see here an thare ower the tap o the corn.”

“Whit wee bleck drappins is that ye’r speakin aboot, Geordie?” speirt Wullie.

“Fae the lang-tail fellaes.” sayed Geordie, “The’r aye lang-tail fellaes on grain ships. E’en you shuid ken that, Wullie.”

“Ye mean rats’ shite?” speirt Wullie wi a gey scunnert kinna leuk comin ower his face.

“Weel ay, if ye want tae pit it that wey.”

“Hey Geordie, are you tryin tae tell us that thae bleck corn flakes is really rats’ keech?” speirt yin o the ither gowfers.

“Naw. That’s no whit A’m sayin at aw.”

“Weel, whit then?”

“A suppose it’s juist that A ken that the corn an the bleck bits is sookit oot the ship intae the elevator an A ken fine whit thae bleck bits is. Whan A poor the corn flakes intae ma plate, the’r whiles yin or twa bleck bits an A dinna ken for shuir whit thae yins is, but they dissolve intae the milk an turn it broon sae A aye gie in tae ma imagination an A dinnae tak nae chances. Whit ither fowks daes - weel, that's juist up tae thaim.”

The waitress gied the gowfers some richt orra leuks as she redd awa thair cereal plates for thare wis juist the ae tuim plate on the table. Aw the lave wis mair nor hauf fu.

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Geordie Jooks an the Bleck Corn Flakes