The Summer of '93

The concrete city

After weeks the new Astra was delivered to my work and I was handed the keys. "Go and look at your new car!" I was in the office working on software revision updates and I bolted down the stairs. I had been driving the hand me downs  for nearly two years. Finally I felt it was being acknowledged that I'd done my apprenticeship and earnt my credibility. It smelt brand spanking new and the mileage was 112 miles. Heading home in it, I put my bag on the back seat. It had patterned fabric seats and a black dash. Eau de new car! I drove it home and parked it outside the house. I enjoyed it's newness every time I opened the door.

I think this was reward for me winning a sales contract for the Company with Shropshire County Council. I'd been doing more pre-sales and Paul, the Director had rewarded me for a job well done. I'd been to Grimsby with Kim and I was doing more and more demonstrations. Kim and I were working together a lot.

We went to do a presentation to the Police Federation in Knaresborough. The head of the operation had a very swanky office, with a beautiful walnut desk and it looked more like a Bank. He was very pleasant, had been with the Federation for a while and set the scene for why they needed a new system and the fact that the Force databases were not aligned nationally. I was surprised to learn how so many Police were injured in action and what the Federation did to look after them. We left the office, ready to complete the presentation. I was there to support with technical questions. 

Kim announced:

"I'm just going to powder my nose!" I waited outside the toilets for her. She returned later and the Ladies' toilet door swung behind her. It was that point I realised that her skirt was tucked into her tights. We were about to go into a meeting of about 300 Police. For a split second I thought, after the stunt she pulled on me when I came back from Scotland (yes I was in the wrong but...well) that I should just let her embarrass herself. For a split second I was going to let her. Then I thought that I wouldn't stoop to her low level and so for that reason, reluctantly I shouted "Kim, stop!" I rushed up behind her and told her to backtrack. She fumbled and, her face flushed momentarily and she gave out an embarrassed laugh. After recomposure, we strolled in to do the Sales pitch.

Back up to Scotland, to see Ali. My Astra cruised up the motorway, effortlessly and I was in love with the colour. So it was due a gentle long run up to Aberdeen for me, to show it off and enjoy it. I must admit I did make a special effort on the way to the barracks there.  I pulled into the barracks with an audience of soldiers practising.  I got out of the car and everything went quiet. I turned around to find 30 pairs of eyes staring in my direction. Talk about feeling undressed! 

"We won't be long babe!" Ali hollered across at me, and he pointed me towards the open NAAFI door. The weather was dull but it wasn't cold so I went into the barracks hall, where there was piles of kit; drums, pipes, kit bags, littering on and around tables and grabbed a seat. I could hear the faint sound of the pipes as they climaxed to a flurry of a finish.  Ali had a particular walk about him and he headed over with his drum frame on, and his dark green tartan kilt swinging and he looked dapper with a recent haircut. He was wearing number ones and he left a girl weak in that kit, with his shiny brogues and brass belt buckle. Ali looked fine. His kilt was pristinely pressed and swung like hair, as if it was organic. He clip clopped across the forecourt as his brogues were encrusted with steel plates, so as to protect the soles from wear. He had a gold braided aiguillette too.

Dog and Buzz came over to greet me. It was good to see some familiar faces.

"Come on" he said, as I took a picture of him in his finery on the forecourt. "Dog, take a picture of us will you?" He'd already planted a firm kiss on me when he'd come in. He had been warm in his kit and his forehead was cold from sweat and he was all dewy. When he kissed me he always had his eyes open and looked over at something. Now, he steered me out with his hand around my waist and grabbed me firmly into him as the camera flashed.  I had been driving for a couple of hours so I asked "Where's the ladies?"
"Oh yeah, it's over there and yes unlike Edinburgh they do have one!"
I never was happy using public toilets, and particular now, when everyone knew what my next task would be, I gingerly passed a rabble of guys disbanding and opened the door to the very clinical, modern bathroom. I entered the cubicle and then heard the door swing!
I kept quiet as I heard noises coming from next cubicle. "Aahhh....oooh....aaahh". Oh my days! I stayed painfully still as I heard it continue. I take it this was a frequent occurrence. I heard the door go again quite soon and I left directly and saw who I was behind. He looked very sheepish and I focused elswhere, so as not to embarrass him too much; no more than he was already.
Ali opened the boot and swung his kit inside. "Nice wheels!"
"Smart isn't it?"
"hell yeah!" He was full of beans.
The motel we were staying in was just over the road and it was going to be my temporary abode for two nights. I was pretty tired and we had an early night and trialled the bed springs. They were noisy.

So the following day they were going to be part of a procession through the town, and it was a lot of waiting around for me. I followed them down the street. This was normal at the end of a Tour. I was wearing my favourite Laura Ashley dress, with its sweetheart neckline and my M&S black blazer with some high patent shoes. Navigating the cobbles in those heels was interesting.
Everything had a cold, austere feel to Aberdeen. The uniform architecture was a cold grey which Ali told me,
"The granite sparkles in the sunlight in the Summer, hence the name the Granite city!"
"Well today," I commented "it's more like the concrete city!"
"Wash your mouth out!"

Union Street was like a Roman road and Ali was glistening with beads of sweat at the end of wearing his Ostrich feather hat. I found sanctuary and warmth in the Catholic church.  He removed the hat that looked like it was a drum frame, it was so sturdedly constructed and combed his blonde hair back. He never looked a mess, even post hat. My hair was all over the place in a curly mass, all windswept as it was quite a windy day. As for him, he glistened with a dewy perspiration and I waited for him whilst he changed into his uniform of his favourite dark denim shirt, jeans and brown shoes. 

The hotel had a bar and it was basic but the crowd of men fell into it and promptly planned to drink it dry. It was clear that the bar as happy to reciprocate. I paced myself and observed this rowdy bunch of men having a good time and a great laugh. We went into Aberdeen and sat in a spit and sawdust bar. One of the squaddies was pretty full on. He had a pot marked skin and wasn't attractive in any shape. He was older, probably in his 30s.

"So you're vegetarian?"
"Yes" I replied. I got this all the time and it was the same old inane questions about my food choices.
"But I bet you would like the meat I could offer you!"
"I'm very happy with my diet as it is thank you!" I replied. Vulgar beast I thought.
Time to leave. Before I knew it I was saying goodbye to Ali and driving back to another week in Edinburgh. 

The conversation was particularly colourful amongst the men who knew Ali best.

Ali had already shared with me how he had visited the transgender guys - the gang would go to bars to feast their eyes on the 'exotic dancers' on a lunch time. It was a very seedy, a different world to my life experience. I was happy about the fact  that I was indifferent and uninvolved in such a world. Ali also explored memories of history with girls which proved that taking two girls home, or the girlfriend who had been a firm favourite in Germany, demonstrated that he'd been busy with the opposite sex in his short army career. 

Two weeks later I chauferred Ali to a pipe band competition in my new Astra. Ali had been competing in a competition at a school in Dalkeith. It was pretty tedious waiting around, with no facilities and the weather was pretty much miserable but he was there and he was focused. The competition hadn't gone very well for him. The mood was pretty subdued as we drove back to Gilmore Place to the B&B that I had booked. We drove back through Burdie House Road and I had stopped staying at the Herald House. The only limitation was there wasn't parking except on the road, and no one could park between 8am and 6pm.  We had been at breakfast and I saw a man come in to see through the window, he had seen the back of his car being picked up and it cost £120, for it to be released again. I drove back along Burdie House Road and I saw out of the corner of my eye a car in a junction, to the left, parked procariously across the Junction at an angle. As I approached the junction and without warning, the car swung straight into my path and hit the front of the car. A woman got out and her Husband and child stayed in the car. I made sure I took her registration number, her home address and of course her personal details.  I called the insurance company and passed them on. The car was still driveable but the light had taken part of the brunt of the impact. There was no point apportioning blame or shouting. She hadn't looked and probaby didn't have a licence.