The Guid Auld Days
Emma Grae Guest Blog
Ah’m the first tae admit ah miss the noughties, the guid auld days.
Ah live in an auld hoose, built in the nineties, and its reid bricks and Scream layoot put me in mind o noughties sleepowers. Tae watchin Final Destination, Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion, American Pie. The classics. Tae Blockbuster and no huvin so many pictures tae choose fae on Netflix that ye gie up oan whitever ye plump fur efter five minutes. But truth be telt, the noughties were in ma heid lang afore lockdoon brocht me tae this gaff.
That’s why ah wrote The Tongue She Speaks - and finished it in the wa’s o this hoose, where it really became a novel.
The Rona changed everyfin fur me, but somehoo ah managed tae write a buik durin it - aw while editin and publishin ma first wan. Ah’ve the Scots Language Centre tae fank fur The Tongue She Speaks, and ah really dae. It started as pairt o the Scots Warks project. It gied me sommat tae focus oan that wasnae Be guid tae yer Mammy and it gat me finkin aboot wee Cathy O’Kelly - a character ah’ve hud in ma heid fur years noo - in a new way. She’s me and she’s no me. And the part o me that is hur wis langin fur a simpler time durin the pandemic.
Ah guess ah still am.
It started wi blogs and podcasts. Stories o the guid auld days o early internet culture. The stuff ah grew up oan. The internet wis so much better when ye didnae live hauf yer life through a screen. Forums wur excitin. Ye’d huv the deepest conversations wi folk ye knew ye’d never meet - and ye learned fae them an aw. It wis simple fings too. Like picture recommendations - Disco Pigs, Almost Famous, Interview with the Vampire luik em up. Even jist the odd rant aboot life. The world wasnae as close the gether back then as it is noo.
It wasnae aw sunshine and roses. Ah never hud another hauf o me oan Bebo. Or a pal that ah could place confidently at the toap o ma friends’ list. Ah’m glad that stuff is gane. The passive aggressiveness enabled by early social media sites wis oan anither level. Annoy yer pal and boom, yer drapped a place in the Bebo rankin. Wur well rid o that. It’s funny tae fink aboot though.
But the buik is aboot mair than jist the net and missin a time wi less o it.
It’s aboot emo culture. Ye couldnae step fit oan any social media site at ma school wioot gettin confronted wi at least wan photie fae The Nightmare Before Christmas. Then there wis My Chemical Romance. Ye knew they wur cool afore ye even realised they actually wur cool. Ah wis a late bloomer there, and 2011 wis a late time tae catch them oan their Danger Days tour. That wis the swan sang o emo culture. A lassie ah wis pals wi pierced hur ear in the queue.
Ah wis probably too young tae get oantae the goth scene properly. Ah still knew aw the bands though. Iron Maiden, Marilyn Manson and the like.
Music wis mair important back then than it is noo.
Ye didnae huv aw the sangs in the wurld at yer fingertips. Ye hud tae save up fur albums, which meant ye actually listened tae them. Ye appreciated them. Ye gied folk an insicht intae yer favourites - and yer mental state - wi lyrics in yer MSN name.
Cathy O’Kelly’s jist a teenager in the buik and ah miss that an aw.
The wurld wis new and full o possibilities when ah wis fifteen. Ah wis around hauf the age in 2007 that ah am noo - a wee bit younger than Cathy in the book at fourteen. Ah’d nae idea whit the future held. It wis big, blank page and ah wis its author. Ah knew fine well that ah wanted tae create then (if ye’ve read The Tongue She Speaks, or even its blurb, ye’ll know whit ah’m talkin aboot), but ah’d nae idea whit it would be - unlike Cathy. Ah could draw sure. But ah wis nae Picasso.
Ah wis nae Shakespeare wi the writin either.
Ma first forray at proper writin wis oan a website callt LiveJournal aroond 2008. Ah mind stayin up tae the wee oors and typin away oan ma iPod touch. Ah loved creatin, but jist like wee Cathy in the buik, ah wis tryin tae be somewan ah wasnae. Dickens, Shakespeare, anywan but a wee lassie fae Clydebank. Ah set up a proper portfolio oan a lang-gane website callt eNovella in 2010, but it took anither few years and a few drinks afore ah gied Scots writin a guid go.
Cathy figures that wan oot sooner than ah ever did.
Writin in Scots would o been a game-changer fur me, but ah’d nae idea it wis allowed at Cathy’s age. It wis never suggested. Ah’m ashamed tae admit ah’d huv probably turnt ma nose up at the suggestion an aw, even though these wurds are comin tae me so much easier than English wans ever dae. Ah’d be loaded if ah could churn oot articles at work as fast as ah’m writin this. There’s nae easier way fur me tae get ma thochts oan the page than in Scots.
Ah want this buik tae encourage weans tae dae whit ah wasnae.
The Tongue She Speaks is aboot mair than the guid auld days though. It’s aboot lookin back oan them and honourin the person ah wis then wi the knowledge ah huv noo. It’s aboot re-writin millennial teenage years - ma teenage years - through Cathy, when it comes tae wurds. Ah’m awricht wi leavin the rest as it wis, wi a twist or twa. The daft decisions wi boys, the questionable pals. The bias ah wish ah hudnae faced when it comes tae the tongue ah speak.
Ah wrote that last line as ah sat in a coffee shoap, scared o the oanline hurricane directed at prood Scots scrivers and hopin that wan day, ma buik will huv gane some way tae inspirin folk tae take up the leid. Like ah said, Cathy’s me and she’s no me, and the poems ye’ll find in the buik really wur written by ma Great Granda. Unlike Cathy, ah ne’er found them until ah wis well intae ma twenties, but they are yet anither example that the Scots leid is nocht new.
Ye cannae put an auld(er) heid oan young shoulders. But that doesnae mean ye cannae make a point or twa through wan - and teach the lessons ye wish ye’d learned sooner.
It’s nice tae take a trip doon memory lane an aw.
Emma Grae