Glesca Patter 14

[Moonwatcher]

First posted on the SPDG 21 March 2004

Patter 14 saw the appearance of Jimmy and Reggie at the Registry Office. They recently made a guest re-appearance on Christmas Day.
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Glesca Patter 14

Hullawrerr. Welcome tae ye!

Have you ever thought about that unsung hero of Geneaology? A person we rely on so much, and yet, tend to take for granted. An individual, who, without their professionalism, patience and attention to detail, SP, GROS, and ourselves would never have got past ‘Go’. I refer of course to The Registrar [who were YOU thinking of?!] What trials and tribulations these guys must have gone through in their day as they sat behind their desks, quills poised, psyching themselves up for their next encounter with that most frustrating of adversaries – The Informant. The following is therefore dedicated to all those Registrars who have, and still do, against all odds, create the records we’ve come to depend on.



THE INFORMANT
(Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is unintentional).

Scene: The Registrar’s Office in Glasgow’s east end.
Time: A long time ago.
Protagonists: ‘Reggie’, the Registrar and ‘Jimmy’, the Informant.

Registrar: ‘Good afternoon, please take a seat Mr…?’
Jimmy: ‘Jimmy.’
Reggie: ‘Jimmy?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye that’s me, evrybiddy caws meh Jimmy.’
Reggie: ‘Yes. How nice. But I’m afraid, as the informant, I’ll need your full name please.’
Jimmy: ‘Informant! Noo haud oan a wee minnit son, ahm no here tae inform oan anybiddy. Dae that aroon here an ye en up in eh Clyde wae the concrete wellies oan innat. Know whit a mean innat?’
Reggie [The epitomy of patience and professionalism]
‘No, I’m sorry, you don’t understand. The informant is the name we give to the person reporting the death.’
Jimmy: ‘Ah! That kinna informant! Ah thoat ye meant ah wid hiv tae clipe oan sumbiddy. I widnae dae that ye know.’
Reggie: [Strained smile]
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. Now what’s your full name?’
Jimmy: ‘Jimmy.’
Reggie: ‘Second name?’
Jimmy: ‘Naw that’s mah furst name.’
Reggie: ‘Do you hiv, I mean, have, a second name?’
Jimmy: Aw aye! Doon the pub they caw meh Wee Malky!
Reggie: [Thinking hard]
‘So your name is Malcolm?’
Jimmy: ‘Eh? Naw, Jimmy!’
Reggie: [Realising this could go on forever, that time is marching on, and the queue outside is building up as a result of the most recent of Glasgow’s regular bronchitis epidemics]
‘I’ll put you down as that okay?’
Jimmy: ‘Whitever ye say son. You’re the man.’
Reggie: ‘Good. Now what relation are you to the deceased?’
Jimmy: [Shocked]
‘Diseased! Ah didnae know eh wis diseased. Naebiddy said anyhin aboot im bein diseased! If ah’d known that ah widnae hiv touched im!’
Reggie: ‘Not diseased! Deceased. You know… Dead?’
Jimmy: ‘Aw aye, right, ah know that son. Ah know eez deid innat. Aht’s whit ahm here furr, tae let ye know innat.’
Reggie: [Talking very slowly]
‘Quite. Now, what relation was he to you?’
Jimmy: [Bursting into tears and sobbing uncontrollably]
‘Ehwizlikafaithertaeme!’
Reggie: ‘Sorry?’
Jimmy: ‘A faither son, a faither!’
Reggie: [Seizing the opportunity to make some progress, quickly writes down James Malcom. Son, in the informant section of the death record.]
Do you have any papers for him? Birth or marriage certificates perhaps?’
Jimmy: [Still sobbing]
‘Naw ah hivnae. Never thoat tae ask im afore eh went. Eh wis definitely boarn though! Ah kin tell ye at furr sure!’
Reggie: ‘What was his first name?’
Jimmy: ‘Jimmy.’
Reggie: ‘Sorry?’
Jimmy: ‘Jimmy, that wis eez name; Jimmy.’
Reggie: ‘So you were named after him?’
Jimmy: [Puzzled]
‘Naw. Ah don’t think so!’
Reggie: [With look of resignation]
‘Do you have the doctor’s certificate there?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye. Here it is son.’
[Hands over a crumpled, soggy piece of paper.]
‘Sorry aboot it bein a wee bit wet son but the wife washed mah troosers last night cos ah wis cummin here an she furgoat tae check the poakits.’
Reggie: [Accepts the ‘document’ between finger and thumb and carefully spreads the sodden, mangled paper on his highly polished walnut desktop, flicking off shreds of tobacco as he does so.]
Jimmy: [Helpfully]
‘Ah kin go an ask the doactir fur anither wan if ye like an come back tae ye.’
Reggie: [Not wishing a repeat performance]
‘No! No! That wont be necessary, this will do fine.’
[He scrutinises the pitiful document, eager to get this case over with. The smudged details are difficult to make out but he does his best.]
‘The name is unreadable, but you say it was James Malcolm, is that correct?’
Jimmy: [Busy drying his eyes after his show of emotion]
Sorry, ah didnae catch whit ye said ther. Bit aye! Whit ever ye say.’
Reggie: [Taking a deep breath]
‘And where did he normally reside?’
Jimmy: ‘Maistly in Middleton’s place.’
[He means Middleton’s Bar]
Reggie: [Catching the name Middleton, and knowing of a Middleton Place in Garngad, decides to go with that.]
‘Number?’
Jimmy: ‘Aw ther’s just the wan son! Jist eh wan.’
Reggie: [Looking up hopefully]
‘Number one you say?’
Jimmy: [Eager to please]
‘Aye!’
Reggie: [So the address goes down as 1 Middleton Place, Garngad.]
‘And his wife?’
Jimmy: ‘Naw! No hurr. She widnae set fit in err!’
Reggie: ‘So they were separated?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye, ye could say that. She drapped deid aboot five years ago.’
Reggie: [Writing furiously, his normal copperplate degenerating into a scrawl]
‘So, his wife is deceased.’
Jimmy: ‘Oh aye she wis definitely diseased that yin!’
Reggie: [Ignoring the remark and pushing on]
‘Her name?’
Jimmy: ‘They used tae caw hurr ‘Herry Merry.’
Reggie: [On a roll now, enters Mary Malcolm and soldier’s on.]
‘Now, it says here on the doctor’s certificate that he died of… Choking. Were you present at the death?’
Jimmy: ‘Oh aye son, ah wis ther, oh aye, saw it aw ah did, terrible it wis, terrible, jist terrible…’
Reggie [Interupting]
‘It says here it took place in a dentist’s surgery. Whereabouts exactly?’
Jimmy: ‘In the waitin room son’. Aye, in the waitin room eh the dentist. Terrible it wis, awfae terrible.’
Reggie: ‘What dentist was that?’
Jimmy: ‘It wis that wan, wan up oan the coarner. The wan thae caw ‘The Butcher’. Ah cannae remember the name eh the street.’
Reggie: [Realising how many Glasgow dental surgeries fit that description, and beginning to lose the will to live himself, enters Dental Practice, Glasgow as the place of death.]
‘I see here a reference after ‘Choking’ to something that looks like [examining the writing closely] ‘toffee’ do you know what that might mean?’
Jimmy: ‘Oh aye, ye see that’s whit kilt im! Eh wis chewin oan wan eh em penny dainties an eh accidently swallied it whole, an it choked im!’
Reggie: ‘He was eating a toffee sweet in the dentist’s waiting room?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye. Eh reckoned that if eh wis gonnae get aw eez teeth oot eh might as well hiv wan last chew furst!’
Reggie: [Pained expression]
‘I see. And he choked?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye.! The dentist tried tae wheech it oot wae a big perra forceps but it wis too faur doon.’
Reggie: ‘And what do you know of his parents?’
Jimmy: [Thinking he means the dentist!]
‘They’d be cawd Howie.’
Reggie: ‘Howie?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye. Must be, cos that wis the name oan the door.’
Reggie: ‘So was James… adopted?’
Jimmy: ‘Oh ah couldnae tell ye son, if eh wis it wisnae sumhin eh broat up.’
Reggie: ‘And do you know of Mr Howie’s occupation?’
Jimmy: ‘Aye. Ah jist telt ye… a dentist!’
Reggie: [Narrowing his eyes]
‘James’s father was also a dentist!’
Jimmy: ‘Wis eh? Noo ther’s a coincidence furr ye!’
Reggie: [Hurriedly moving on]
‘What do you know of James’s mother?’
Jimmy: [Thinks hard]
‘Ah remember im wance tellin meh thit eez maw wis aye in a state an thit she wis a scrubber.’
Reggie: [In desperation, copies it down as ‘Ina State m/s Scrubber’, and surreptitiously checks for the whisky bottle in his desk drawer.]
‘Thankyou Mr Malcolm you’ve been a great help. Now could I just get you to sign this here?’
[Hands him a fountain pen and points to the space on the certificate under informant’s name of James Malcolm.]
Jimmy: ‘Certainly son, glad tae be of help innat.
[He promptly scratches a big X… followed by an even bigger blot!]
Reggie: [Writes below it… ‘His Mark’]

…and many years later, an unsuspecting family historian…

Let’s do some Ms

M


ma/mammy/maw.-
Mother. Apropriate for ‘Mother’s Day’ [At the time of this posting it’s Mother’s Day in Scotland. Hiv a nice day aw you Mammy’s oot ther.]
‘Haw. Mammy, wher’s mah soaks (socks)’
‘How wid ah know? Wher ye left thim ah s’ppose!’
‘Ah cannae fine (find) thim.’
‘Shout oan them, an thill probably stert walking towards ye!’

maist -
Most.
‘Ah tell ye , mah maw’s making the maist eh this Mother’s Day lark. Cerd (card), breakfast in bed, flooers (flowers), choclits...’
‘Hiv ye no geid hir a kiss yit? Ah’ts eh maist important bit!’

maddy -
To go beserk.
‘Heh Mammy! The cat’s takin a maddy.’
‘Whit’s it daen?’
‘It’s runnin aboot mental.’
‘It must’ve fun (found) yir soaks!’

malkie or malky.-
To beat up someone. To set about them with a vengeance.
‘Ah better get some flooers furr mah maw furr murra’s day urr she’ll gie meh the malkie.’
[There’s a bit of history about this word. The story goes that, in the days of the Glasgow gangs ie. Teddy Boy era (c.‘No Mean City’ and all that). There was a gang leader/member called Malcom Fraser. Malcolm, shortened to Malky, and rhyming slang (Fraser/Razor) led to the term ‘Malky’ becoming synonymous with razor attacks. I really can’t vouch for the authenticity of this but the expression ‘Tae gie sumbiddy the malky’ [in a humerous way] carries on to this day.]

man -
Husband.
‘See that eejit doon ther?’
‘Whit, that yin comin oot the pub?’
‘Aye.’
‘That yin staunin oan eez fingers [as in ‘singers’] as eh staggers alang the pavement?’
‘Aye.’
‘The wan thit’s tryin tae light eez fag fae the streetlamp?’
Aye.’
‘Whit aboot im?’
[With Pride] ‘That’s mah man!’

manky –
Dirty.
‘Yer troosers urr manky, wher huv ye bin?

masell –
Myself.
‘Ah wiz in eh hoose aw bae masell. Oan mither’s day of aw days!’
‘Ahm sorry aboot that faither bit ah took mammy oot furr a wee drink!’

merr-
More.
‘Kinna (can I) hiv some merr eh that mince maw?’
‘Naw, it’s aw done, nae merr left.’

merrit -
Married.
‘Ye know the wife an masell hiv been merrit noo furr 25 years!’
‘Hiv yeez?’
‘[sobbing] Aye!’
‘Whit urr ye greetin furr?’
‘Cos if ah’d murdered irr when we furst met ah wid hiv served mah sentence an been a free man bae this time!!!’

An oan that note ah’m beatin it before mah wife finds oot whit ah jist said an gies meh the malky!
Merr Ms nixt week. Take kerr eh yersells
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See yiz it the perty amorra!

Bob.

[CatrionaL]

A good read