Kids’ stuff: Tochts fae Tushie Truncherfaece
Snaay stress
Voar at last! You laekly tink winter is da best time o year tae be a trow. Wi darkness we can git oot an dere is plenty o rants tae keep wis dancin. But winter isna athoot troubles for trows.
I wis blyde when yon last doonlay towed. Snaa can be fun for some, but a richt budder for trows. We ir ower easily spottit on a snaay hill. We need hedder, girse an gutter for camouflage. A trow stands oot laek a sore toom in da snaa. An buksin trowe snaa dat sometimes comes up til your oxters isna aesy.
Bidin undergroond is anidder budder. Da weight o snaa lyin abune you is a worry. Eftir ivery doonlay we lippen a laek somewye. Dis mont hit wis richt abune da bairns’ boxbed. Da continual dreep kept dem awaak an reestlin aboot in da bedclaes. We didna tell dem we wir fairt da röf caved in.
An niver spaek o da quantity o paets we end up burnin. Bein undergroond wi Jack Frost isna fine. As paet eftir paet is brunt I tink o da back brackin wark A’ll dae tae replace dem.
Noo, you’re no tae tink A’m pleepsit, but dis last doonfaa I fen oot anidder girn I hae aboot da snaa. Hit wis een o yon days da human schuls wir shut an a crood o bairns gaddered on wir hill wi dir sledges.
Wir bairns hate hit. Dey hiv tae lie undergroond listenin tae da hoochs an skirls abune wis. Hit can be risky if dey sledge ower da tap o wis as da dads does wir röf nae guid ava.
Tankfully dey wir farder doon ower da broo dis time so we got a grain o paece. Dat wis until twa o da peeriest eens cam an set dem on da muckle stane nixt tae da mooth o wir howe. Whit dey giggled as dey med up dir ain jokes.
“I wid love tae geng an tell dem a guddick,” said Snurtysleeves.
“Bide du here,” I telt him.
We listened tae dem yarn a start langer.
“Whit’s yon? Ir dey fitprints?” axed da peerie boy.
“Mebbe rabbit prints,” said da peerie lass.
“Naa,” said da boy. “Look, yon is something with twa feet, no fower. An hit has claas . . .”
“Du’s richt,” said da lass getting on her hookers for a look. “Has du heard stories aboot trows on dis hill?”
“My mam ey spaeks aboot lookin for dem when she’s hingin oot da claes. She reckons dey gied wi her new tay tooels aff da line.”
Meenie darted Muttontief a look. So dat is whaar da fancy new sheets he cam wi wir fae.
“Let’s follow da fitprints,” said da peerie lass. “We‘ll mebbe fin da trows!”
Meenie draaed in her breath. We wir aa fairt. Da meenits seemed laek hoors as we lay undergroond listenin tae dem oag trowe da snaa. Dey stoppit aside da mooth o wir howe.
“Dunna mak a soond,” I whispered tae da bairns.
“Here’s a rabbit hole,” said da boy. “Mebbe dey’re in yonder?”
Da nixt we heard dem hockin awa da snaa fae da mooth o da howe wi dir hands. Wir bairns hed een laek gluffed rabbits.
“A’ll stick me hand doon an see if I can feel onything,” said da boy.
Afore we could move an inch his muckle glived hand wis trivvelin aboot abune wis. Ony a bairn’s airm wid git richt inside. Da mair he trivveled, da mair paet mould fell on wis. Whit a steuch! Da bairns startit tae host an Gutteryaggle gied a prize winnin sneeze. Da boy yockit his hand oot and jamp tae his feet.
“Did du hear yon?” axed da boy. “Yon most hiv been da trows!”
“Hear whit? I heard nothin,” said da lass. “Does du no tink yon trowie stories ir med up? C‘mon, let’s sledge agaen.”
She set aff doon da hill but da peerie boy held back. “Cheerio trows,” he whispered in da mooth wir howe afore runnin eftir her.
At least some een believes in wis.
Tushie Truncherfaece x
