‘Yees want a wee poke ae chips, boys?’

‘Naw, yir awright, Gran. A’m a bit skint but, ma maw didnae gee me ma pocket money!’ Danny says, hintin fur a fiver.

‘Yees sure? Wit aboot you, Alan?’

‘Naw yir fine thanks, Agnes. A’ve just hud ma lunch in ma maw’s.’

We don’t like tae see Agnes runnin after us any more. She isnae fit tae but still wants tae keep tradition n look after us.

‘Awright then, wid yi like a cuppa tea n a Caramel Wafer then? Or a Blue Riband?’

‘Naw, no thanks!’

‘Awright then. So wit huv yees been dain then? A’ve no seen yees roon fur a while.’

‘Aye, we’ve just been busy wae our exams n that, Gran.’

‘Yees dain well at the school? Yi stickin in, Alan?’

‘No bad, Agnes. No too bad.’

‘Aye, Gran, we both git As in wan ae them!’

Our exams ir marked wae a numerical system. But it sounds better that way.

‘Aw that’s good, son. Gittin good marks it the school is important. Pay attention tae yir lessons, boys. It’s important yees git good marks at the school.’

‘Aye, A know, Gran. Me n Azzy are best in our classes. Tap ae the class!’

His gran isnae daft but n she hudnae came fae Clydebank on a fuckin banana boat. ‘Yi think A wis born yesterday? Just pay attention now, or you’ll end up in the remedial class wae the dunces! N you’ll git sent doon the pits!’

‘A don’t think there’s mines anymore, Gran!’

‘Aye well, still.’

A make maself comfy on the eld couch. It takes me back tae ma childhood being here. Nuhin much hus changed. There’s still the eld shelves wae wee whimsies but wae an extra layer ae dust n the eld patterned carpet. There’s a bronze plate ornament hangin on the wall n pictures ae Danny as a wee wean n his cousins n his da anaw. Danny’s granda n other men A didnae know in army khaki suits n hats.

We’re aw disturbed fae our chat. The noise floats through the single glazed windaes. Agnes cannae hear it yit but me n Danny kin just make it oot. It’s the big drum beats yi hear first, a bass drum that yi carry in front ae yi on shoulder straps. There’s nae foot pedal, just two sticks tae rattle the thing wae. Next is the rattle n purr ae the snare side-drum lettin aff a double-stroke roll. Finally, there’s the unmistakable shrill ae the Fife flute playin the eld melodies. They wur only allowed tae march between April n August. Durin marchin season there’s plenty though, the Juveniles, memorial parades n the big walk in July. Danny rolls his eyes n sighs. A cannae help smile a wee bit.

Agnes sees us listenin n both our expressions. ‘Wit is it, boys?’

‘It’s they band bastards!’ Danny says, ragin.

‘Now dinny yi swear in here, son! That’s foul language!’

‘Sorry, Gran. They just piss us aff but! Proddys always rubbin it in yir face!’