Before a 26 project I’m always worried about whether I’ll be able to relate to my ‘object’. ‘Skating boots’ didn’t mean much to me until I remembered the one time I did skate as a child. The trail through town to the frozen pond, the cold hands and feet … the borrowed skates, the ankle wobble, arms flailing, topple. None of which matched my image of graceful skaters dancing on ice. But … disappointment?
Hell, no! I’d done it hadn’t I? I’d skated on the Curlie.
Writin in Scots? Thae boots didnae mak me think in Scots…. Mm? Problem?
Aye, til I gied the boots tae wee Nancy Smith, ma pal. Then I thocht on Scots words like ‘skite’ and ‘sklither’. Then I thocht on words, near as dammit the same i the baith leids, that meant different things:
‘Skatin aroond the truth…’
‘Better get yer skates on… ‘
‘skatin on thin ice’ (though that ane got cut i the edit)
Ach, an then I minded the truth o the weet dowp , scadded legs and the bruises… and when ye spick the truth the words spue oot in a belter.
Hell, I’d done it! I’d written it in Scots.