What the F**k's a Gadgie?: Scotland re-visited, a story about poets, personalities, boozers & bastards

By John McIlhone

Congratulations, you are about to discover why your everyday moments, experiences, casual encounters and even conflicts are more meaningful than you may think. This book is a story about people like you. The lapsing of time elevates the importance of stories and those individuals responsible and so what follows is a sample of the more notable and memorable. You are going to be taken back in time a little, my time but if you are looking for deep and meaningful, you'll be disappointed. However, if you want to know more about the tribe of people known to the rest of the world as the Scots and you fancy being amused, bewildered, enthralled, bothered, confused, emotionally challenged and provoked or even slightly pissed off, then read on. There are of course no guarantees nor do I think literary acclaim awaits, quite simply this book was written for my pleasure and your entertainment - enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Feb 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649695819

Book preview

01 Scotland Here I Come

I set out for Scotland in August 1986, the trip in itself an adventure I was looking forward to as my international travelling experience up to that time had been a family holiday to Sydney at Christmas in 1980 and a booze infested excursion to Fiji with ex-school friends about a year later. On this journey I had a 12 day stopover in California and a few days in London which were all pre-booked before finally heading up to Scotland.

I had the benefit of a British passport despite having never set foot in the place, the authority that is the British Government no doubt happy enough to issue it given two departed and current citizens were responsible for my existence. And so it was a one way ticket out of Christchurch, New Zealand, Scotland bound on a UTA French Polynesian DC-10 stopping briefly in Pape'ete (Tahiti) before the long haul across the Pacific to Los Angeles. Customs clearance went without incident with my exit from LAX a formality, back-pack slung on my shoulders I wandered out the door into the Northern Hemisphere for the first time, warmly welcomed by the California sunshine. The highlights of that first venture to the United States could fill another set of pages but I’ll leave it there although be assured I had a good time.

Twelve days later it was another DC-10 and another carrier departing LA which took me on the final leg, this time British Caledonian (B-Cal). As an airline it has long departed consumed by British Airways in 1988 with UTA suffering a similar fate swallowed up by Air France in 1990. The cabin crew on the B-Cal flight were certainly in tune with the Caledonian portion of its name and dressed accordingly, decked out in tartan edged uniforms and matching head gear which would have looked very much at home had they been heading to a Bay City Rollers concert.

London was more pit-stop than anything, plenty of walking, taking in the sights and a few ales not to mention a planned pose captured for me by a passerby on Westminster Bridge on the same spot and in the same fashion as the American Express, Never Leave Home Without It, advertising slogan. The message touted by a much younger Michael Parkinson at the time.

I was aware of the, ‘Biggar’s bigger’, boast and went through University with Graeme Yule whose father actually hailed from Biggar so I knew all about what was big and what wasn’t. I was also familiar with the phrase, ‘When you tire of London you tire of life’, so eloquently professed by Samuel Johnson many centuries ago but for me it took about two days. I think I’d had enough of being on the road and having been travelling for two weeks I was probably in need of a place that felt more like home. The final leg of the journey was in the company of a young engineer I met who was from Glasgow, Andy was his name. He was a Strathclyde University graduate and was on his way back to Scotland from Western Australia of all places. I met Andy on the bus purely by chance as we were seated together on what was a very busy bus having boarded at City Link or National Express near Victoria Station; I’ve forgotten which. Now I haven’t worked alongside too many Engineers but Western Australia has its fair share of them, at least when the resources BHP and Rio Tinto dig out of the ground or the natural gas extracted by Chevron is needed somewhere else but I just cannot imagine an Engineer travelling anywhere on a bus in Australia regardless of the