This little tale has been lurking in the back of my mind for years. It is based on a family story told many times by my father, Jack, who did indeed cycle out to far flung building sites, in all weathers, his yellow cape and sou’wester his only protection against rain, sleet and snow, often returning home frozen to the bone.

At that time, building trade workers were paid ‘travelling time and expenses’ and, with ‘overtime’ at ‘time and a half’ for weekday evenings and ‘double time’ on weekend days, every extra penny was welcome in our single end at 84 Greenview Street, in Pollokshaws.

(To read a bit more from this period, before the re-development of Pollokshaws under the slum clearance programme, try searching on this website for ‘The Go Between’.)

When Writers’ Circus set a challenge to write on the topic of ‘rubbish’, I decided to try to write it down. Yes, the link is tangential but it was the best I could muster.

The title of this piece?

My Mum was a tea drinker, Betty the Tea Jenny. Like Granny Bremner, Mum was teetotal all her life. Her tipple was American Cream Soda.

So, read on, delve back into the past. Nostalgia never dies.

Many thanks again to Kareth my Editor, who hoes tirelessly through my output of drivel to correct all sorts of spelling, logic and grammar errors and meticulously ensures necessary ‘commas’ are added while battling to eliminate my penchant for the spurious ‘that’ word!

At our Writers’ Circus group the ‘chair’ rotates and the incoming ‘chair’ sets the topic

for the following monthly meeting.

The topic set was : “an unexpected encounter”.

This provided an opportunity to weave fantasy with fiction and get down snippet tales many

of my fishing, golfing and singing buddies will have heard, perhaps more than once?

The final scenario, a walk in the park on a snowy winter’s afternoon with a friend’s dog

did happen and I was in real danger, a near death experience which, I suppose, leads us to

the opening scene.

This is a tale from a recent encounter with our grandsons, Ethan (nearly 6) and Drew,

(newly 4).

I hope most parents and grandparents will recognise the atmosphere small children

create as they learn the ways of adults.

This is a spoof piece which was written in response to a Writers’ Circus challenge on the theme ‘That’s not going to work,’ she said bossily.

It came in a rush, more or less writing itself.

No, I have no direct experience of Am Dram but I do enjoy watching.

Go on, dive into the world of the amateur actor.

At Writers’ Circus we were challenged to write a piece about flying.

This tale recounts a short joy flight we experienced in Australia when visiting friends.

It happened a long time ago, but the take-off and landing trauma is with me still.

Far better to be in a big, big plane, with eyes firmly closed.