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How I was Launched
Mother was a McGregor from Inverness, a beanpole but ambitious. And tough as gorse. She would not so much turn her head
as swivel her gaze so one eye peered at you across the bridge of an aquiline nose. My father was a short almost comic
figure from Exmoor whom she had met while stationed in the Orkneys. She admired the way he danced in foxtrot, swallowed
his vowels. His natural vulgarity survived military service unscathed. As a teenager I would nickname them
Jiggs and Maggie after the cartoon characters, Maggie the great pretender and social climber, Jiggs the constant
embarrassment with his top hat, cigar, and bad manners, who was always ducking out to eateries in Boston for a snack
of corned beef and cabbage. My father finally persuaded her to sleep with him in the summer of 1919 in a small cottage
overlooking Scapa Flow, where the German fleet was anchored, awaiting the results of the Versailles talks. She was sitting
upright in bed, the sheet to her shoulders while he undressed, a cigarette in one hand. As he stepped out of his bellbottoms
and dropped his underwear, not a bit shy of his enthusiasm, she put her hand over her mouth to suppress a Scream.
Behind him fifty-four ships, scuttled by defiant crews who jammed open seacocks and took to the boats, were listing at odd
angles in the glittering waves. My parents stood in the window naked, his arm around her hips, hers slung across his shoulders,
and watched. He flicked a benediction of fine ash on the windowsill, looked down at his wilted submariner, and laughed.
SKALDANCE Price £9.00 per copy post free (£6.00 post free to Associate Members) Cover illustration: 'Black Ladder' © Martin Honisch, 1985 Publication: SUMMER 2004 (102 pages laminated paperback)
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