The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs, written by Andrew Brebner and Simon Fogiel.
Tanya Souter, lifestyle correspondent
I da ken about youse, but I wiz saddened tae hear ‘at the big Markies in toon is closing. I hiv happy memories o’ gan there as a wee quinie wi’ ma mither fan she fancied a posher level o’ shoplifted produce than wis available fae C&A’s or BHS. And my ain kids hiv, in turn, hid a lot o’ fun ootrunning a better class o’ store detective than ye get in Poundland.
But it is a bleak day for a hale generation of auld wifies fa will soon hae naewye tae rake aboot wi’oot buying onything. Fit, I s’pose, wiz the problem in the first place.
The closure o’ the Markies cafe will be the real hammer blow. My grunny winna be happy, I can tell ye ‘at fer nithin’.
She isnae interested in yer oat milk lattes and cappafrappucinos, and the Markies cafe wis the last place in toon ye could get a pot o’ tea and a deid fly cemetery. She’s still fuming aboot them shutting the Victoria Restaurant and the tea rooms at Provost Skene’s Hoose, so I’m feart ‘is’ll pit her ower the edge.
But it’s nae a total disaster for fans o’ Percy Pigs and sensible slacks and cardies. There’ll still be a Markies doon in Union Square, fit they’re gan tae dae up and extend.
I’ve nivver been tae yon ither Markies masel, on account o’ the fact that even if ye slog a’ the wye tae Union Square, it’s richt at the hinner end o’ the blimming place, so ‘at’s still a 10-minute walk fae Krispy Kreme doughnuts. And, as me and Beyonce-Shanice his discovered tae wir cost, they dinna allow mopeds inside.
Let’s face it. If ye dinna drive, or yer nae in great nick physically, the store at Union Square jist isnae handy, is it? So this is an affa blow tae the city’s elderly, like my grunny.
Nae doot she wid say that wi’ sae mony retailers focusing on their online business, folk lik’ her are already discriminated against because they’re nae au’ fit wi’ technology. But I canna check if ‘at’s fit she ‘hinks seeing as she disnae hae a mobile phone.
So, that’s aboot it for Union Street, folk is saying. But I dinna agree. The area is jist undergoing a change o’ use.
The wye we shop is changing, and it’s ayewyse been like ‘at. We assume fit’s happening noo is “worse” but, really, it’s jist different. And we’re a’ knocked sideways by the speed o’ it, but ‘at’s jist the wye o’ the world, is it?
Nithin lasts for iver. Union Street is changing fae a “shopping” destination tae a “staggering aboot shouting and boaking” destination. And ‘at’s progress.
Davinia Smythe-Barratt, ordinary mum
Like all ordinary mums, I stoically embrace the challenges that wintery weather brings. Which is why I find it so frustrating when people cancel important appointments, and incompetent motorists block the highways with vehicles ill-suited to the road conditions. This week has been a case in point – so, excuse me whilst I vent!
When I awoke to a thick blanket of the white stuff on Monday morning, the first thing on my mind was, naturally, ensuring that I didn’t miss my monthly manicure. The Christmas festivities hadn’t been kind to my French tips, and they were in dire need of some TLC. So, come hell or high water, I was going to the salon.
I hopped in, set the suspension terrain mode to ‘tundra’, and off I went. It’s so simple – I don’t know why everyone doesn’t just do the same
I cleared the snow from our access road and put the winter tyres onto the Discovery. Sounds like a lot, but it literally took only 10 minutes to explain to our au pair Snezanha where to find the snow shovel and the jack (she’s Bulgarian, but she’s marvellous).
Once she’d finished, I hopped in, set the suspension terrain mode to “tundra”, and off I went. It’s so simple – I don’t know why everyone doesn’t just do the same.
The journey was made all the more difficult by people getting stuck in snow drifts between Kingswells and Cults, and – worse – the inconsiderate people who stop to help them, thereby blocking the road for ordinary mums like me.
Thankfully, the Discovery has a simply wonderful suspension mode called “rock crawl”, which allowed me to bypass both the stricken motorists and the so-called good Samaritans by simply driving over the top of them as their wheels span in the snow. You should have seen their faces!
Then, after all that, I had to play a game of chicken with a gritting lorry driver who seemed determined to straddle the middle of the road rather than stick to his lane. I won’t bore you with the details of our tussle, but suffice to say it finished ordinary mums: one, “Ploughy McPloughFace”: nil!
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