Poking Seaweed with a Stick and Running Away from the Smell by Alison Whitelock Page B

listened to some story about Jesus and Mary, then we sang a few songs about envy, jealousy, malice and spite, and after that we had to listen to this fat guy with a beard tell us how these ­emotions must never be allowed to reside in our hearts and I wondered what reside meant for a moment then went back to thinking about Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) .
    Finally, the bell rang signalling the end of the torture. I jumped from my seat, grabbed my wee red vinyl coat from the bottom of the pile of coats, toppling all the others above it to the floor, and ran for the door. I was free and I ran and I ran all the way home not even stopping to put on my wee red vinyl coat, instead holding it high above my head letting the wind catch it and the sun shone through it and I felt its pink rays on my face and I felt safe right there under my coat. I made up my mind right there and then that that would be the last time I would ever give up the telly for the church. The two just didn’t compare.

18
Mum’s big knob
    The minister’s wife was Beatrice, the Brown Owl for our Brownie pack, and one night she announced she needed an assistant and that assistant would be the Tawny Owl, not as important as the Brown Owl, but still an important role that not just anybody could fill. And so I ran home that night after we sang ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ and asked Mum if she would be the Tawny Owl and Mum told me to fuck off, that she had enough to do, what with my da and his drinking, me, Izzy and Andrew, four dogs, five cats and a donkey called Annie to contend with. But I pleaded and pleaded and eventually she came over to meet with the Brown Owl and she got the job and I was delighted, even though some of the Brownies got confused and thought that Tawny Owl meant that Mum’s name was Tony and went on to call her Tony for their entire Brownie lifetimes.
    Mum and Beatrice started to become friends, which surprised us because Beatrice’s husband Adam was the minister and we couldn’t think what they’d want hanging around with people like us who didn’t care much about God. At first Beatrice just came to our place by herself, then she started bringing Adam around as well and we thought maybe they were trying to help us find God or something, but Mum said they had probably never experienced anything like us before and were intrigued to see how the other half lived. ‘We’re not rich,’ Mum used to say, ‘but we do see life.’
    Adam used to come around and spend a lot of time in the good room with my da with the door closed tight, and we thought maybe Adam was trying to convert my da. He used to come to our place carrying a plastic bag with Tenant’s Lager printed on the side and shortly after arriving and chatting to us in the kitchen he would excuse himself, make the sign of the cross above our heads, and head to the good room where my da would be drinking himself into oblivion with the telly Mum had just bought from Big Sheena’s Second Hand Bargains on the Glasgow Road blaring in the corner. As he made his way towards the good room Adam’s Tenant’s Lager bag made strange clinking noises, which we put down to bottles of holy water he must carry about with him in case of one of those holy emergencies ministers sometimes have.
    One night Mum invited Adam and Beatrice around to have a bite to eat and a glass of Mateus Rosé and of course they came and Adam brought his Tenant’s Lager carrier bag with the strange clinking noises and as the night wore on, the drinks, the nibbles and the conversation started to dry up and it became apparent to everybody, except Beatrice and Adam, that they had overstayed their welcome. And so without any warning my da put his glass down, stood up from the couch, peeled off his shirt, vest, trousers and underpants, dropped them onto the carpet and announced that he was off to bed, and duly walked out of the good room wearing nothing but his