Crazy in the Athens of the North

By Muriel Cooper

This book tells the story of a botched, innocent, love affair, intertwined with a strong environmental message - Save Our Planet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing
• Release date: Dec 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888877494

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Copyright © 2023 by Muriel Cooper.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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The three sisters join the protest march through Central London.

They shout --

What do we want?

To save our planet.

When do we want it?

Now!

The large crowd joined in -

What do we want?

To save our planet.

When do we want it?

Now!

The atmosphere is carnival mode.

Isla shouts:

Stop being gannets.

Save the planet.

The crowd shouts

Stop being gannets.

Save the planet.

Crazy in the Athens of the North

It’s the wee, small hours, and the Edinburgh sky is lit by a million stars for this eco-warrior. The wind howls fast and furious up Carlton Hill, and it would be fair to say that this is not a night for the faint hearted. No. Not even an eagle-eyed robber is out on the prowl. Cuddle down in bed, all you good folk, and sleep tight, for this is a night for the fearless.

Below the hill, she moves with grace and precision, battling against the elements. Her mop of red hair is in a frenzy, climbing onto the roof of the Scottish Parliament. Boom, Boom. Boom. Her heart thumps at the pure anxiety of this undertaking. She is on autopilot.

Now, some say Isla is a bit of a weird lassie, but she doesn’t give a toss. The fact that she’s officially changed her name has aroused ‘the wagging tongue brigade’ - but she brazens it out. Who wants to be called, Bunty, after some kids’ ancient comic? Anyway, Isla is totally focused on doing her bit to save planet Earth. And, at this precise moment, she is attaching a banner up high to draw politicians’ attention to major environmental issues and to say something memorable.

This. . .

DON’T BE A GANNET

SAVE THE PLANET.

CRAP PLASTIC IS SEA-DRASTIC!

BECOME OCEAN-FANTASTIC.

Satisfied that the sign is secure, Isla dismounts and lands softly on the ground. Standing back to admire her work, she has second thoughts. Drat! Already, the banner is tangled up in the wind. Oh, no! She spots a security camera. Quick! Quick! Resolutely, she climbs back up the wonky building. Easy-peasy for this lynx. But in truth, it was more of a struggle to fix this banner with the wind pulling against her. Off it flew into the sky like a pterodactyl flapping its long wings.

Isla slowly descends and lands right at the feet of a security guard doing his rounds. It was difficult to tell who got the bigger fright.

What the hell! He stumbles backward.

Oh . . . Jamie! It’s you! So sorry. I didn’t know you worked here. . . It’s a tough old night for a run. She grins foolishly and starts jogging on the spot as a distraction. I remember you saying something about working part-time in security. I didn’t know it was here . . . And now I do . . . I suppose . . . I know you work here, I mean. Shut it, Isla. Stop talking nonsense.

Aye. I do that. He stands aside, totally flummoxed, and lets Isla run past. Look out for the bogeyman! He nips his cheek, annoyed with himself. Why the hell did I say that?

Isla turns around laughing. Don’t worry yourself about me, Jamie. See you at the run tonight.

Aye. Jamie has a conversation with himself. What just happened there? You’re slow on the uptake tonight, Jamie boy.

Isla skedaddles tout-suite.

Jamie shakes his head. There’s no run tonight. Shit!

His phone rings. Rabb! What’s up, Big Yin?

You’ve just been speaking to it. That’s what’s up. Rabb is the gaffer and a straight-talker.

She was just out running. Nothing untoward. All’s good, Rabb. Jamie assures his boss.

Get your backside across to the reception. I’ve got a whole lot of your ‘nothing untoward’ on camera. Rabb is sitting, feet up, at the security desk.

Jamie stands with a gaping mouth as the video replays the scene: Isla mountaineering across the roof of the Scottish Parliament.

Shit! At least the crap sign’s vamoosed. Blown in the wind. Saves us the job. She’s a pal, Rabb. One of my running partners. The lassie doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. Honest!

And a fine body too. Looks as fit as a fiddle. Rabb farts. But what the hell was she playing at? I’ll have to log it, but nobody reads the reports. I tell you, she climbs like a monkey.

Ha-ha. I know. You wouldn’t get me climbing up there, Rabb. She’s a fast runner. One of the fastest in the club.

No kidding? I bet she could give you a run for your money. Eh! Jamie boy. A bit of a ‘skinny ma’linky’ in my book – But five stars for fitness, Jamie! Rabb winks. Does Karen know about her?"

Naw! There is nothing to tell. Jamie is hot under the collar. "So, can we just forget it this once? I’ll tell Bunty: ‘it’s her first and final warning.’ Jamie measures Rabb’s loyalty. [Jamie is unaware of the new name.]

Aye. The sign is away. No harm was done. Fancy a cuppa?

I could marry one. Cheers Rabb. They nestle down to hot cups of tea and chocolate hobnobs and watch a rerun of the day’s football.

The Edinburgh police gate crashed this cosy session, while doing their routine checks.

Davy asks, Who the hell was that on the roof just now? We couldn’t believe our eyes. Could we Dunc?

Naw. Who is the lassie? asks Duncan.

Nay-biddy. Just forget it and ram some chocolate hobnobs down yer gullet. Rabb tosses the ‘hobnobs’ over.

They all laugh at Rabb’s unprofessionalism and watch a re-run of Celtic playing against Aberdeen on the box. The four sedentary football experts are laughing, and joking, and shouting, at the television with the odd burst of elation.

The phone rings. So, you’re saying you have a recording of someone on the roof! A lassie! Whit’s your name? Jeremy! You work for the Herald! You were watching the planets in the night sky at the time. Thank you for informing us, Jeremy. We greatly appreciate the information. As a matter-of-fact, we are dealing with the matter at this very moment. All the very best, Jeremy.

Rabb slams the phone down. Shit a brick. Sorry Jamie, but we canny keep this under wraps, son!

"Naw. We definitely ca’nae. The cat