[Released 25/05/2021 on a CC BY-ND copyright licence (others may reuse the work for any purpose, including commercially; however, it cannot be shared with others in adapted form, and credit must be provided to Colin R. Tosh)]
Examination
But I really do like nature but its not just nature. And as I always say you dont have to know the names but its not that either. I have thought about this long and hard, what else it is I like. I even had to stop thinking about it because I couldnt get to sleep I was so excited and it was morning (well about 23:30) till I slept but I was at it all next day and got it in the evening. It is the freedom of being in nature I like. You are in a different world you really are. And there are no cars or parents or even TVs. And I like these OK but, oh, when they are totally gone you do not know where you go. And the different world is all around you but in your head as well. It could be like a drug, I dont know. Because I have to say that I really cannot do my best things with this when my pals are there. I would not tell them this but it is true. I am in nature with my pals and it is good but it is just the same as being in the town. Maybe on bikes and making jumps. Danger sometimes with my pals like when we crossed the bit at the top of the dam and nearly lost our footing to go down the drop but there is danger on my own too. I do not hide from danger and, to be honest, sometimes I think that if I died on my own in nature and with the danger it would not be so bad. You hear about folk dying all ill in beds so why not die when you are doing your very best? This is what I think about old people. They have had their life but are very cautious about dying. They should be the opposite because they have had their life. But they are not. I mean it is OK if they are not. I do not want old people to die. But you would think it would be opposite. But it is not. But do not get me wrong. I do not want to die and I panic and try hard to escape just like anyone else when I get into bother, but that is not often. But when I am in nature I am not afraid to die and I am not afraid of danger.
One of the best I suppose was just this Saturday but the days now down there are a bit more planned and it has faded a bit and more with your pals by the time you go again. When I was at primary it was all the time. Even at school sometimes I would still be in nature and feeling like I do because I was down there so much. School and being in nature would run into each other. The light shining through the window, through the dust in the air, in the Dominies big dark wood school room and the trees in the distance with the crows. With the faded National Geographics all dry in the greasy dark wood cabinets. But I was excited on Friday. I woke up and just started to think of the Brean when it is sunny. And all day I was thinking about it. The bits beyond the bit I fish at and maybe going along a bit because my feeling is that it is probably more beautiful and probably hidden and there could be big fish because there are no roads further on. The fish can do what they like. They will show their true nature and thrive. So I mentioned it to my mam on the Friday morning and said I was thinking of spending all day down the wood fishing the Avlith stream. I tried not to make anything of the bit where I said all day but you never know. And it was all a lie of course and even if I dont usually go out all day I thought somehow she might be OK because the wood and the Avlith stream are considered safe and my dad is working at the weekends at the moment. This was a good way of breaking her into me going out all day. So in the evening when we were watching the snooker program and my dad had gone to the garden I said again just to her, not my sisters, could she make me some sandwiches and a bottle of water for tomorrow and she said nothing which is good.
And tomorrow they were there in a backpack on the weak table that wobbles in the kitchen with thin metal legs and she would be round the corner at the cooker and she was and I knew I would get a speech. But it was all the same stuff. Do not go to the Brean, it has dangerous currents, do not cross the bypass, do not stay out when it is dark. But once I did stay out after dark and it was great and if they think I would not stay out if it was like that again they are mistaken. Big Andy McGregor had pulled the big fish out once, out of the bit at the tunnel with the stream, but it fell back in and they were biting. I was not going back then. He was dropping the bait under the ledge and you could see the fish having a think. And he got it too when it was dark and I met them, my ma and da, coming through the village (McGregor and the other bigger lads scarper) and what a telling off I got (hit too). I told them too that McGregor had got a huge fish but they just ignored me. But I think it is only a telling off or a doing. If what you are doing is great it is worth it. So on Saturday I got my rod and bike out of the shed and I knew it was there and a bit hidden so not used much so I took it. A blue rope. And that went in the back pack and I was off, driving the bike with the rod out front at the handle. And I know I will crash sometime if I do this but I still do it. Or at least it is more probable that I will crash. The brakes too. It has brakes but you dont use brakes on a BMX if you are using it properly. The rubber sole goes to the back wheel. I have seen them do it on the telly on Saturday morning. Andy Ruffell. One time I tried it in the front wheel on this very road and I came off badly. I knew it was going to happen when I was doing it. It just didnt feel right and you are going very fast. Time slows down. But I did it anyway and came off over the handlebars. Its funny when you crash. You feel something pulsing through you, like tingling pulses, and then they go when you recover.
So down at the bit I always go to at the Brean I hid my bike in the tall grass and you have to hide it because it is all chrome and could be seen by the gamekeepers. You always have to think of the gamekeepers. Once I was chased right in this bit, where the trees are just single branches and all like that and there are leaves that lie on the ground, and I think he had a gun but they are all fat the gamekeepers. Big fat alchie bastards. I have a broken branch with drying leaves but still green that I put over it and if you arrange it OK it works. It was not a sunny day but overcast and warm. A muggy day. And the flies would be out but not in the morning. I did not care. Morning is not for fishing but I did not care. I do not even like to catch the fish. I just like being in nature on my own. Sometimes when I sit at that bit that is what I think. I do not want to catch fish, I just want to be here. It is like you are in a nice room that is all yours but in nature. Your shoulders go up. Especially because there is a tree that hides you from the road. I put the line in the water and left.
I remember I was nervous when I left that bit and I remember thinking that I should have done this before, I have wasted time. I have wasted time in my life not doing this before. Oh I have thought about it, do not worry. I think about it all the time, what it will be like. In fact I dream about this a lot too. One time I will be doing my tests in the bit beyond, then I will be having a good time with my pals, then I will be having a deep talk with Miss Acciarito at secondary or even the Dominie sometimes when I was at primary. I have seen him in the bit beyond where I fish when I dream too. Sometimes even I am with the girl I like at secondary, talking and holding her hand when it is sunny by the river. And she is looking at me smiling and sometimes blushing but happy. All the things in my life happen there when I dream and I dont know why. And I suppose this was all why I was nervous. Going into this bit was a big deal for me. I was in no mistake about that. There is a fence, you see, with a sign on it that goes right across, across the water too. Keep out but it does not say that, it says no fishing without permits and to buy your permit from the Avlith Post Office. But this is just a joke to me. This is how tight the laird and his gamekeepers are. They will stop a local lad like me and chase me to buy a permit. Why, it is me that uses the river. It is me that thinks about it and loves it. Why would I pay? It is mine! But I tell people this, my pals, and they laugh. They laugh. But they do not laugh when I show them one of the big fish I caught all frozen in the freezer.
So I went through the wire and I was disappointed but I should not have been because, of course, I have peered through the wire and seen this many times before. Its just that there was no different feeling when I was in. It is very like many of the waterways round here. Where I fish it is starting but here it is what it should become. Shallow with big stones through it and low at the sides, sometimes with worn away grass dirt overhangs, and, the main bit, all trees overhanging. These places are no good for fish, the water is very clean but you just pass them on your bike. The only time they are good is in autumn but not for fish. I think it is too cold with the trees for flies or no good for plants which I think are good for flies. In autumn, you see, the leaves fall slow in spiral circles into the water, especially down the stream, and you can watch this. At the stream, put your bike down and have a seat and watch it. You count the time in between and watch the ripples when they hit the water and then you see where the currents take them into piles. You can see how it works but even then not for long. You are back on your bike and away and you will not mention this to anyone. And it was like this for a long way, maybe a mile. It was interesting to see this type of river in all new twists and turns, sometimes the river starts to be something else when there is a gap, but even then I have seen this and there was not much new, except the novelty itself, if you will.
But I could see it coming and then I started to feel warm and tingly and excited. I could just see it coming and I wondered if this would be the best thing in my life. And thinking back I think it was and some more good beyond but one thing at a time. Almost through the sun came out and I wished I had been through when it happened to see the change in things. But when through, wow, what a sight. It was all different now! It was a field and almost immediately the river was changed. But the field. It had not been cut for a while and it was all green with flowers, yellow ones and purple ones and white ones I saw. The white ones a type of grass flower maybe, and the bees and other hovering insects all moving then stopping, moving then stopping. Haze your eyes and this is all you can see is the movements of the flying beasties. But not even about the river to the left was a rise. A great gigantic hilly bump rising up beautifully and with tremendous grace and I have seen these before and, you know, they are more than just hills to me. Because when I see them it is always the same. I always think that maybe there is adventure beyond or maybe a bit more. I dont know but I think there is a new life beyond. One where you can live outside all the time and not be spotted. Maybe with your pals or maybe not. You think they would maybe feel the same too and join you. Its too difficult for me to say but when I see them I feel so warm and I just want to look look look. I know you can only feel this when you are a kid, I am not stupid. You see them from the road near my house and sometimes I have to not look if I am busy because I know I will stare for ages. But at the top maybe it was better. Part of the adventure too. A square of wood but all different. The grass thick and yellow now and with ferns and the rabbits hopping in and out when they see me. And the trees. They are pines, not many, and big and old as anything and twisted with the wind and the way they fight for light that you see. And this is the greatness of that square bit of trees because if you think of picking it up and making it all over the landscape you can think how it would have been. Like that all over and quite different, with different birds with twisted beaks. But maybe not too and maybe it was just planted there, and this was part of it too. Its romance. And still not the river because it was rich and into the distance and it would need the closest examination so I stuck with the field and its forms and beauties for now.
And I came to then and, you know, I laughed because I came to and looked down at myself and I was all bent over like I just got through the barbed wire and that was the case but not in time for I had been there a long time looking. But I am very fit you know so I can do this. I can stand all bent over for a long time and not even know it because I am fit and I suppose not being full grown helps too. But now I came to and stood up and had a laugh and kind of shook my head like to get the trance out and when I stood up I saw something else only some away and would walk there, keeping in mind that I still had the river to look at. At distance it was only bumps up and down and lines of colour, white and yellow, and I thought of the make up on ladies cheeks with the little hairs you see in light for the grass. And I walked to it feeling the grass and hearing it against my legs, with the little bumps when you hit a bee or a seed head and once a big bump when a big beetle went flying. And it was on me fast and what a fine thing it was. In the depression joined to the tall grasses of the river it was wet and with this the white flowered plants had grown. Thick juicy leaves with jointed stems and the most white and open flowers open with an uppy yellow bit in the middle and so evenly spaced it had to have meaning. And where it was dry on the up curve were the yellow flowers, smaller and joined plant to plant with flat lying stems that let you see how it developed. And I looked around at other dry mounds and there were no yellows there and this made me think and I looked again at the whites and the tall river grasses and then I was in.
I entered recklessly and cursed myself and became cautious. The grasses were tall, so tall in fact, above my head and thick and dry yellow with their stems and heads that lolled about like old drunken men. And when I moved through them I saw above me the yellow breezy seeds loose and move on the wind then water to where, I suppose, next year they would grow. And then I saw why, when out, they grow and grow so far down where you could see. They grow in the hard soil, they grow in the mud, they grow in the water and mud below and then again I could see the good properties of them that grow them so much. Oh fuck it I said. And then I was back and the clothes were off. I just jumped in and broke the grasses open and as I landed in I looked round expecting, and as expected I saw scatter round me the big creatures and small that live in the good, clean water.
It was not long, perhaps only to say I was in, and to get myself out I had to drag me through the half broken stems and mud, scratching my skin and watching my willy. Because my front was muddy I continued to crawl through the mixed field grass and looked behind me to see the trail of river mud I had left, and as this happened I thought of Annie from the high school and the way she might be if she was here like me now. I put on a t shirt and pants but just grabbing aside, not up, and then I was back down, face again in the grass and flowers, with the earth smell and my face hot and wet with the movement of righting stems and small creatures moving close by. And then I was asleep.
And I must have slept a time. Rising and laughing and looking round and the countryside now colour from the bleach of the eye strain and the clothes on and the sandwiches in. After all that I was back to before and it was clear the sun was now across and the light was different and everything else with it too. So I ran and heard the theme tune. The Superstars. The fittest men on earth. That was me. Bryan Jacks. Pure muscle, and there was no stopping me. Arms pumping out, chest pumping out the breaths, the tall grasses went on forever. And the sha sha below me of the uncut grass and the river twisted more than I thought and I followed it and sometimes when there was a gap you could see it up and the view was gorgeous, honestly better than I imagined, and so good I could not honestly still imagine it being where I live. And still cant.
And then after running a way and doing and thinking all these things I was surprised but should not have been because I could see it coming when I thought but just not with the river. I turned a long easy corner where there was still the good high river grass and then it was all changed suddenly but no fence and a dirt path in a short green, clean looking grass to let you in. This was a fishermans path. And to my left was potatoes with a fence, very well on, and healthy looking but with other plants blown in or in there first that grew smothered between them. And I thought that early on it would be touch and go but the farmer would be old and know the score and it would be OK like this in the end. Or maybe he just couldnt be arsed. Tatties in, end of story. These are the ones that dont even care about farming and some of them are drinkers. They are the best ones I think. I think this is what my da means when he rants and raves but he does not like drinking, my da, oh no. It could not be the Estates tatties. They are always in at their harvest first, working overnight, and have all the new equipment and techniques and are greedy bastards. But the river. It was straight here and I thought maybe it had been cut out but I dont think so because the high banks were coarse and cut out by the river. And the little grass hangs over the sides in some places with the earth only in the roots and when you kick it it wobbles. But I knew there would be fish and big ones and I was excited but more of a dread at having to see the very big fish, which is something I barely even admit to myself, but it is true. Very big fish in the deep water give me the heebie jeebies and it is all I can do to get them out and quickly kill them and I avoid places where they are to fish. But the river. It was sunny now through scrappy thick little clouds, dark in the middle and moving fast, and it wasnt down but down a bit and there was the odd tree at the side and the dark green of the potatoes and it was enough. Where you are standing low you could see the flies coming in and landing on the water and they were not river flies, they were from the crop. And this would be why there is fish here. And this is what bothers me about round here and there is not much I dont like and I really like it round here. Its that people dont notice things. I bet you if you asked someone like my da if a fly is a good flyer he will say oh yes but it is not true. I have watched them so many times. They are bad fliers and the ones that come off the crop are worst. It is just over and in and eaten for them. They are hopeless. Even the ones that live at the water are poor too. I have watched them and they maybe get 10 minutes or so of good work then they hit the water and if they are lucky they are up again. This bothers me you know, that people dont see things. But it is even worse that they do not even think things like this are in the same universe as them. It is like they completely do not care but somehow even more than this, like seeing things is just dirt. My da does this when I try to talk about things. I was out with him and said that some flies only need their wing muscles on the upstroke, on the downstroke there is an elastic mechanism that brings them back down. Miss A told me this at school and showed me. And I remember him looking to the side at me and his eyes were all starey and wet over and he didnt even say anything and just looked back. This is what I mean when I say that seeing things and thinking things is worse than dirt. Neat clean house, neat clean garden, neat clean car, that is what they like round here and sometimes if I see people that are not like that I like them, I dont know why. But this river. It was deep, very deep, but clear, and like the grasses bit, there were no plants in it. Plants need the right depth and a good bottom in this river but there are places like that that I will think of when I get round to it. This is where the oysters are too they say. But here it was just deep and with mud on the bottom and it was clear OK, dont worry, but the light was in and out and did not get in enough to see easy right down, so I had to lie down on the bank and study, I must admit with a bit of dread and sickness in me at the likelihood of seeing the very big fish in the deep. You have to do it over time. You see a bit of movement and there is a fish, then you see some more movement and there is another and then you start to see them. And I had chosen my place badly because it became clear that there was a big shoal of whoppers right under me and over and I mean big, you can tell by their slow turns, and I was nearly sick right there into the river and I had to get up and I was all bent over with my arms at my side and bent and eventually I leaned on a tree. And I got back to normal, but still not quite right, and was off.
I ran on, past field and field and the river to my right, sometimes off the path, rough, but further from the fish. I would never fall in here. Past one field then the next. Fields of stubble and straw bales and dry earth and little birds that fly from bale to bale. Then potatoes, then cabbages or kale, maybe. All good and healthy fields and all interesting things to see. And butterflies and bees and other insects all near me at the old strange flower plants of the fields edge. All very coloured and to me very beautiful and all disorganised and growing all over the place where they are. And the river always the same, even at the bit left untouched with the wet ground and the marsh grasses like the places up the glen. The river never changed here. Straight and deep and black. Choking with fish. But this sun. This sun in the sky, it was lower now and I looked to my left up at the hills to see where I was and it was strange like you see in the car and I would have to turn back. I could see where it changes up ahead, with the woods and the river going down in high flowing steps. But I would have to go back so I sat down slowly on the grass against a tree and thought of what it would be to keep going. The bit you could see. You could put that together. If the drops were big there would be a spray and white bubbles. It would be rare to get a fish in there but they would be there but they could never see your worm with all the movement. You could look at that for a bit and smell the water coming off the spray. Maybe it smells of the fish a bit or maybe you just imagine this. And then you could go up a tree near the best bit with the biggest drop and have a look at it up there to see if you could see anything else. And then you would come down and run on. Maybe have a drink, and the sun would be going down now but you wouldnt care. There would be no change in your mood at seeing this, you would just see it and recognise that it was happening. And then you would run on. It would be getting dark now but you could still see the next bit and could just take it in casually. Probably the river with thick weeds trailing in the current, going round corners even. Again you would take this in but realise there is no chance of getting a fish here because of the weeds. I have tried but only once and I should have known better. That would be more information for you for the next few days. Then time for a bite to eat. The fish in your old skin bag would still be fresh and there would be things in your bag to start a fire. And there are places you can sleep. You dont sleep next to the fire. You put that out and hide it and its into the tall grasses or if there is a thick bit of heather. You can go in and that can go over you. And then waking up in the morning. You never want to stay there lying in the heather. That is just in beds, so you are straight up and off, maybe even running straight after a deer that you spot when you are lying there. And on it goes. But I know where this can go and the sinking so I jumped up and clapped above me in the air and called out aggressive, “Ha!” and began to run back the way I had come.
And it is different on the way back. I only remember this now. You remembered it once the first time you did it then just forget about it. But on the way back, of course, it is like a completely different river. This is probably why I never look at things on the way back, because it changes what you think of the place you have seen and that is not what you want. So I was just looking at the ground and running and then you go inwards and I thought about my house and my room, especially in winter, when it is best. Because from my room you can see forever. People say you can see forever but dont mean it but here you can see forever. It is the flat of the Stranmire Valley with the fields then it starts to go all grassy and heathery and you can think of what its like when you are there with the old untidy farms and then the Grandian mountains behind. And in winter you see where the snow stops and the snow is there until late March and you really can see the mountains behind and behind and a bit from above until it is hazy and they disappear. It is like they go on forever and you think about going over them, in summer especially. This is what I see when I look out my window. Everything. And if I had a telescope it is possible I could see everything going on. I am serious. You can see Kirklinnock from half at the side and a bit above where you get a good view but I just need a telescope. And you could see what cars are out and about. But they are a serious bit of kit, telescopes, I know. And then I thought of my tea and my ma then my da in the garden. He would be at the potatoes. He is always at them, pulling up the soil with a spade. They are the most important I suppose for eating. Then I thought of the maze. I sometimes think of this. Like the maze starts when you are born and ends in the middle if you are a big shot or famous like a prime minister or a big scientist or book writer or something. Maybe not so much a businessman because being nasty is a big part of this. But I often see this maze and I always think how bad and unfair it is. I thought about Alan Simpson in the maze. I do not like to be mean but big Al is just the kind of person that would not get far in the maze but it is so unfair and I like him. He does not care about the teachers and is rude to them and he plays tricks on them and he fights and he does not get good test scores. But he only fights tough lads. He is not a bully. Older boys. And he likes me too. I mean I suppose I am a bit of a swot really, no not a swot but I am good at the school tests, but he does not care. He just likes who he likes. How good is that in a person! And its not like me. When I see someone I think how rich they are and if they are rich I dont like them and if they and their pals are saps. I know I am not a naturally nice person. I just know that. And they give big Al and his pals horticulture because they think he will only be a farm worker. This is how the school thinks. They think how you are early on and that is you. But it is so unfair. I like him. He is very big and probably the hardest up to fourth year and he is only in my year. He is very funny. He said to me he booted someone in the sacks and I had to think what he meant but I thought and it is the sacks round your balls. I was on the ground laughing because I was thinking of cloth sacks. He is not good looking but he has a girlfriend and they are like man and wife. He is so mature! Imagine being like that with a girl at our age. His ma and da probably let her stay over. This is a different universe to me. My ma never even mentions lasses, like its dirty or something. And I just take beamers when I speak to them. And this is the worst thing about all this and the thing that maybe puts me in a bit more of a bad mood. Just like I have done before, I think of myself in the maze and I just know I will make it a good way further than Al. But in just about every way Al is better than me. The only difference is the tests. The fucking examinations. I am getting 100% and that and he is not so that is me and that is him. It angers me but you cannot talk about it round here, that is another thing. Maybe Alec but you could not just go up to someone and talk about this. No way. Its like the school and the world in general just wants the machine that is in your head to do stuff to move stuff about and do sums to get boats to sail on time. No doubt if they had a fancy machine to do the same they would use this instead. That is all you are to the world. But this is how you are judged. Your status in the world, just by how your brain works, nothing else. Nothing else matters. And like I said, by the time I reached the rod I was not in as good a mood as I was and when I look back I should not have tackled the giant tree beside the castle but I did and I am still here but the climb was not as clean as it could have been.
I checked the rod and it was nothing and the bike and I wondered if it was touched, the bike, what I would do, maybe down flat and shimmy shimmy out of sight then watch him come back, the gamekeeper. Maybe even laugh. I Imagined it. He would look around, maybe touch the bike, feel its weight. So my mood was less good now after the run back and I looked around me through the floaty teatime sun and thought of teatime and licked my lips and crossed the bridge, sun filled and open, crouched, and jumped the fence clean into the simple low field grasses that line the open river here. This is the castle grounds now. Really it is but I dont know if that is how they think. Them that keep it. But it is. The trees in the wood are big and nice but some are not Scottish and planted from abroad. And in the pasture fields too there are trees that stick out that must have been planted, so it is the castle grounds. There is a farm with a big white house beyond the bridge but still. And I was in the riverbank grasses hidden but with my head above and looking around and sometimes shaking my head in disgust at having to act like this where I like to be. And maybe all this was just putting off time because I knew I had to look at the fish. That was as much a main thing as any other, looking at the fish here. This is where the oysters are and some water weed plants stretched and waving with the current, because it is shallow and slow and always clear here. And there are stones on the bottom. It is not beautiful but there is something about it. I might drink from here, I have thought. I think of it a lot and it is in my dreams. It is not beautiful but it is special. Maybe my pals would like it here, in a den in the grass with a fish on a fire maybe to eat. But it is the fish here that you think of. When it is sunny there are flies and the fish are big. This is the thing. Their size. And one of them is diseased. This is another thing. They all spread out and swim against the current, still to the bank. And I had to make myself turn round. I am a man of science, nothing shocks me, from the TV, that is what I thought and I turned and there they were and I can tell you that they do not give two hoots about me at the bank. I shout at them and they do not care. I throw a pebble in near them and they do not care. They are near the surface you know and coming up slowly to get flies. You see their big open mouths above the water. And the diseased one acts just like the others with the big white diseased patches on its skin. Like it is too strong to care. And this is it about fish. I know about evolution and Miss A tells me more. I know about it alright and this is it about fish. They are slimy and cold just like a lizard or a frog and they have no neck. They just have to turn their body round to see things and this is what you think. And I know animals like this can be ruthless. That is the way animals are even if you dont always see it. Oh this dog is cute but let it loose for a week somewhere and you will see something different. And underwater and primitive like fish it must be worse. Nobody sees what they do. They will just kill each other if they can. This is what I think. No I cannot say I like the fish here and I remember when I turned to go I was breathing in air cold through my teeth.
So I left the bank climbing and up across the road into the wood. And I thought of the time, it was later now, and the light lower and my parents but I could not help it, there on the sandy road with the big dusty sunken rocks, yellow in the low evening sun. Just when I looked I could see it. Silhouetted against the dark woods where I had been and lit by the low sun above the trees. It was a kind of a, a kind of a, flotilla. Of insects and up in the air. Millions of them. Billions. Trillions. And floating and moving on the breeze. And just like the rest, this hit me deep and, as before, I could see clearly the many beautiful things largely ignored that keep the living world running and fine as it.
It took me about 10 minutes to reach the tree, off the road and looking, jumping the roadside ditch one way then another, twisting my ankle, sore in the legs and frame, cussing the way things were, the growing dark, the stones that bit through the thin soles of my shoes. Why must a fellow worry about the dark I thought. And these lands. They are no different. Why must I look around like a criminal? Through the trees and over the thick stone hump bridge, in the last low orange light near the castle, I saw a grounds worker working a spade and pausing, working then pausing, and I thought of my da. Then there was the tree. The tree. I cannot think about it. It is so big. It is too big to think of. I am not just being silly here. When you think of a normal tree it is just one thing but this one you cannot see as just one thing. There is the giant bottom bit you are next to when you stand next to it. And then there is the branchy bit above when you walk back and have a good look at it. It always has to be both things when you think of it because it is so big. Not like a normal tree. You always see it in your eye when you are down there. You cannot stop it. I leaned on it with my hand. You want to do this if you are there. You just want to. And I was breathing loud with a little pursed mouth, like the athletes, but this was breath and my negative thoughts and I told myself to calm down. For weeks Id thought of this and planned it in my head. The big tree. The biggest of them all. I could do it. I knew that. I wanted to work behind it, away from the castle and the workers, but I could not, for the first branch was high and not at the right side. I looked around for a decent stone and found it, like a dumbbell, and tied it in the middle. But I was not happy with the stone, or at least did not think of it, because the rope was blue and could be seen and the branch was at the wrong side. Up she went, the stone, and when it flew over the branch I pulled it tight and the stone whipped round the branch many times and stopped tight. Now that was something and I pulled the rope to check but did not need to. Just like the devices in the James Bond films and now I was pleased because I had thought of it before and it worked. Then you just pull up and up and you are on the first branch. 15 meters up and I did not even look. I would not look until the top. I decided that there. I left the rope and up and up, the branches easy now and many and I did not look. And then there is the farm workers. I knew I would think of this because I always am. Climbing this big tree I thought of it. People look down on the farm workers. People look down on me I suppose because Im just the son of a farmworker. A peasant boy. But that is all wrong. Dead wrong. The life me and my family lead. All the farm workers. We dont earn much but we get a wee cottage with the job and my da grows food in a big garden and we eat that. And the life I have is just great. I go all over the place and the friends I have are great. People just think of the working folk in the country as dull and lazy and uninteresting. People hate the working country folk. They really do. All in the news they are never there are they? Like the workers in the cities with their coal strikes. Oh no the workers in the country dont care about all that, they just want to laze around and chew bits of grass. But I know what it is. Why people hate and always have hated the rural poor. Its because the workers in the country dont want this thing that has been given them. This thing they were given when they were born. Going to work in a train. Sitting at a desk. Having all the latest things. Bringing your kid up to be successful in the eyes of the world. They just dont care about that. They want what people have wanted forever, even when people were just in fur clothes and that. They just want to have a life based on the people around them. A local existence. Other farm workers and maybe people in the village. But you cant have this or you are scum. You cant have what people have always wanted and had now or you are just scum. I mean you should hear my ma and da. Oh yes, Davie Paton, he works at Kirkmartin Farm, oh yes Jeannie Arthurson, she is at the High Lees and her man is the grieve on the farm. And on they go. They know everyone working on the farms and all the people working on the farms live next to farms too. Its like a little community. And my da doesnt talk about it much but he was in the farm bothies you know, near the end of them. Bothy culture, you know? All the young farm workers would live together on the farm in an old stone building and they would cook certain things and had songs they would sing and that and were known as likely lads. And on the farm too there would be a system. The grieve and the ploughmen and then the young lads with some more important than others. And the orra boys. And secret societies I think. And when the men got married the farmer gave them a cottage with a big garden and then men would grow food to help feed their family. Just like we do. There are still traces of it but it is gone really. But you see you cant really have these things. All the poor people making a culture or system for themselves. You can have that you see. It is a threat to the one true order. There is only one culture. Going to work in a train. Sitting at a desk. Having all the latest things. Bringing your kid up to be successful in the eyes of the world. You do anything else and you are just scum. Something has died in the world, or should I say has been killed, and it makes me angry.
And thinking this and maybe angry a bit in my arms and legs I had the slip. I was near the top and it was getting dark and I had climbed it not looking, not even seeing my arms move or feeling them on the branches. Just thinking, thinking, thinking and the tree was swaying, swaying, swaying and at the end of a sway I was off balance and got tipped over and, the sway moving back, I looked below me and there was just air and ground below and I swung an arm over quick and got the thin tip of a branch and then the other and I was clattering down but I was OK and, after a bit, back on a branch. And how I laughed I can tell you and I said, “Oh no you fucking dont,” and I climed back up but higher now, right to the top. Right up where the top is nothing more than a thin branch and you are really swaying and I stood up, on a thin branch to the side, and put a leg like a snake round the main branch and stood and raised my arms out and for the first time now I looked out proper at all that was below. And I shouted, “I am Callum Toisich and all this is mine!” And it was dark now. Up there at the top of the big tree it was dark. And I would be in trouble but I did not care. I did not care there swaying up in the dark at the top of the big tree. I just did not care. Oh I know what they will say about me. Oh yes Toisie is a good lad and smart but he is only the son of a farm worker. But I do not care. I do not care about anything because at the end of the day I can leave it all and enter this other world. Of the senses and the mind. The fish, the flies, the plants. The wild things. Oh humans and their industrial society are smart alright but they are not that smart. Nature is big and abundant and diverse and too much for humans, no matter how smart they are. No, I think a lot and often get wound up but, you know, I rarely despair because I always have this. Nature. It is something no one could ever take from me. It is too powerful. It is something humans could never destroy.
It is 1983.