Tha spairk o it

Jhone Wricht (John Wright)

This story is dedicated to my wife and family with thanks for their patience when our home life was disrupted by the call of duty.

A wus boarn an brocht up in a wee raa hoose on tha Bellyvester Road, a toonlan halfwyes atween Millisle an tha Dee. Ma great granfaither’s fairm wus aboot a hunner yairds up tha road fae ma ain hoose, an that wus whar A wus aye tae be fun, efter schuil an in tha holiday time. It wus a gran place fur a wee fella an his freens tae play.

In tha simmertim oor playgrun wus a wee fiel caa’d tha hall dorr fiel, jist oot fornenst tha hoose. It wus mair a gairden wi bushes an trees aa roon it nor a fiel. Yin o tha trees haed a big brench stickin oot fae tha side o it. We tied a raip roon it an on tha ither en a lump o wuid. Thon wus oor swing an oors wur spent on it. Fitba an chaisies tuk up mair oors.

In tha wuntertim we didnae wanner far fae tha yaird, fur we wur feard o tha dairk, sae we jist run roon shoutin an bawlin an makkin a wile noise, til yin nicht ma great granfaither cum oot tae us, an whut he toul us gien us a pooerfu scaur. “If ye dinnae cum in tha hoose tha Pechts or Banshees’ll get tha houl o yis.” That wus aa it tuk an we wur aa in tha big kitchen o tha hoose like creeshed lichtnin. Dae ye ken it wusnae aa that bad, fur he brocht doon tha checker boord an lairnt us aa hoo tae play. It wusnae fur a wheen o years efter that A fun oot he aye brocht us in tae stap us fae scarrin tha kye in tha byre.

But Haleve wus aye a gran time in tha kintrae. Ma great granfaither wud hoak oot a wheen o bags o oul rubbish an we wud cut doon whun bushes an mak a boag banefire. Unbeknownst tae me, yin day A wud be pittin thaim oot alang wi ither fire fechters.

Fire Fechtin

It aa stairtit yin nicht in 19 hunner an 76. A wus sittin doon tae luk at tha new feng’lt contraption tha man frae Chock Rentals haed pit in — tha colour’t tellyvision — whaniver thair cum a rap at tha front dorr. Ma guidwife gaed tae answer it an sez tae me “hit’s wee Geordie fur ye”.

“Cum on on in Geordie an tak a sait”, sez me, “quhut can A dae fur ye?”

“A hae a wee foarm fur ye tae fill in”, sez he.

“Quhut’s it fur?” A sez.

“Tae jine tha Fire Brigade. We need a wheen o boys like yersel aboot tha place. Get it filled in an bring it doon tae tha station nixt week, an A’ll be lukkin fur ye”, sayed wee Geordie wi a strecht face.

Boys it fair tuk tha wun frae me an quhan A haed gethert masel thegither, A sez, “Is yer heid cut? Ir ye daft? Quhut wud A want tae dae that fur?” An wi that he wus oot an awa.

Weel, A thocht a wheen o days aboot it an taak’t it ower wi tha guidwife. “Ach sure, gie it a go”, sez she. Sae A filled it in an tuk it doon tae tha station on thair nixt drill nicht, an thocht that wud be tha last A wud hear ocht aboot it.

But na. Wi’in twa weeks A got a letter frae fire heidquarters tae gang doon tha follaein Thorsday nicht an get thegither wi yin o tha heidyins fur a wee taak.

Weel tha nicht cum an aff A went, lukkin like a new pin doon tae tha station. Boys wus A feard!

“Cum in an tak a sait. Gie’s a bit o yer crack an tell iz aboot yersel”, sayed tha heidyin. But A think wee Geordie maun hae telt aa aboot me fur he near kent mair aboot me nor A knowed masel.

Efter a bit o fynin oot wus A feard o heichts or daed ocht like that bother me, he toul me A haed got in, but A haed tae see tha doctor tae gie me a lukkin ower an see gif A wus aa richt tae join. An wi aa that daen A jist haed tae wait fur wurd frae heidquarters whan tae stairt.

Wi’in a wheen o weeks A wus stannin alang wi aa tha ither men in ma bricht new unifoarm. Boys A thocht A wus nae goat’s tae. Mr Fire Brigade himself. But A daed get a quare gunk. Thurteen weeks lairnin hoo tae clim lethers an rinnin oot hoses. A wus seek lukkin at thaim: iverie Thorsday nicht wus tha same. Then twa weeks lairnin aa aboot tha breathin apparatus, an wi aa that daen A wus on tha run as thaimyins caa’d it.

Dae ye ken A cudnae houl on tae tha furst caa, til A wud get tae fecht a fire at last, an whaniver ma bleeper gaed, A near drapt it wi excitement. Ma furst yin wus somebody haed set tha lum on fire. Quhan we got up tae tha hoose an aa tha lethers an hoses oot, wee Geordie sez tae me, ‘Jhone, gang up wi Sammie tae tha lum an lairn hoo it’s daen”. It wus mingin up thonner an A gaed hame wi a face like a man frae anither continent.

Wee Geordie wus gye an guid tae me an he lukked efter me lake a wean. But whan tha heidyins wur thair, A haed tae caa him Sub Offycer, an Sammie wus tha Leadin Han. Whan the’ wurnae aboot, but, it wus Geordie an Sammie.

As time gaed by, Geordie an Sammie tuk thair retirement an ithers tuk thair place. Oor nixt Sub officer wus anither Wee Geordie, an he gien iz monies a lach wi his antics.

Yin nicht we wur caa’ed oot tae a hayshade that wus bleezin richtlie whaniver we got thair. Sae we got oot aa tha hoses, oor hydrant sut up an readie fur a lang nicht. Aboot three o’clock Geordie cum tae me an sez, “Jhone, wud ye luk efter tha pump. A hae tae gang tae tha kassie fur A’m aboot tae dae it in ma breeks”. “A’ll dae ma best”, sez me. Efter twuntie minnits bek he cum, waakin like Jhone Wayne that haed jist got aff his horse. “Whut’s wrang wi ye Geordie?”, A sez. “Ma airse feels like it’s an fire. A daen ma business roon tha bak o tha pig-sty an A fun an oul paper bag on tha wye roon, an A sez tae masel, ye’ll dae tha verie job. But whuniver A uised it, boys but it fair stung — an daes yit! A dinnae ken whut soart o a bag it wus fur it’s wile dairk roon thonner. A’ll tak a licht roon an hae a luk.” An wi that he wus aff. Whun he cum bak, man we haed a quare lach, fur tha bag he haed uised wus a lime baag. Thair wus twa fires haed tae be pit oot thon nicht.

Yin ither time we wur caa’ed oot tae a lock o gress on fire up in Bellyhay. Geordie wus drivin that nicht an whaniver we got tae tha fire we aa lept oot o tha fire injin an run roon tha bak tae pu oot tha hoses tae pit tha fire oot. Then somebody sez, “Whar’s Geordie?” Sae a couple o iz went tae luk fur him. “A’m doon here”, sez Geordie an whan we lukked he wus sprachlin up through breers an whuns oot o a sheuch. He haed lept oot o tha injin an intae tha sheuch. Thair wusnae monie strecht faces thon nicht ither.

But in aa thaim years thair wus monie daeins that saddened tha hairt — like fowk an weans getting killt on tha road or ithers burnt oot o hoose an hame wi naethin but tha claes on thair bak. Aa thon cums bak tae mine yit. But it wusnae aa grief an tears. Monies a time ye gaed hame wi a gledsome hairt whan ye haed saved a bodie’s hoose frae burnin doon, or haed cut somebody oot o a wrecked motthor fur safetie. But tha yin that sticks, an wull aye stay in ma mine, wus a wee wean that got stuck in a swing, an we haed tae cut tha bars tae get her oot. She wus greetin whaniver we cum tae her, an her mither an faither wus near as bad. But tha luk on her wee face whan we got her free wull bide wi me as lang as A leeve.

Wi aa tha bleezes A focht, an boys thair wus aa soarts o thaim, a richt wheen wus banefires. Some on Haleve that wur bigged ower near fowk’s gairdens, an ithers on tha Leventh Nicht an whan ye turnt up at thaim, gye an affen ye wur as walcum as a sewer rat. But we aye taak’t oor wye roon it by jist dampin doon tha oot edges o it. Dae ye ken, it jist brocht it aa bak tae me whan we uised tae hae tha banefires in ma Great Granfaither’s Hall Dorr Fiel, an A hae mine o him tellin iz quhut tha Pechts an Banshees wur that he uised tae scar tha leevin daylichts oot o iz wi. The’ wur naethin mair nor Mollie an Rosie tha twa Clydesdale horses he kep quhan he wrocht tha fairm. The’ wur giein thair hoofs a dicht up an doon tha sides o tha stalls. An quhan he telt me that, he gien me a quare lach.

“Ye didnae believe aa thon, daed ye?” he sayed.

“Aye, man, A daed,” sez I, an we baith haed a guid lach.

But time mairches on an it wusnae lang tae A haed twuntie year daen, an noo a leadin han masel wi a lang service an guid conduct medal. Whan tha day cum A wus as prood as a peacock stannin thonner wi ma breesht puffed oot, an tha Loard Lieutenant o Coontie Doon pinnin it on ma unyfoarm.

In tha Brigade A made monie guid freens, yins ye cud rely on, fur gye an affen yer life wus in thair hans whan ye wur in thegither fechtin a fire ir ither dangers we haed tae thole. But A’m thenkfu we cum through it aa safelie. It aye maks ma hairt sair whan A hear wurd o a firefechter getting killt oniewhar roon tha warl, fur nae metter whar the’ cum frae we aa fecht tha yin enemy.

Bein Leadin Han wusnae tha en o it aa afore A tuk up ma retirement, fur A got tae dae wee Geordie’s jab as tha temporary sub-offycer in charge o tha Station. Thon wus anither prood time fur me, aiblins tha highlicht o ma days in tha Brigade.

In aa thaim years A hae a lock tae be thenkfu fur, maist o aa tae ma guidwife an weans. Thair wus times we wur jist aboot tae gan oot somewhar, or tha mait wus on tha table readie fur aitin — an aff tha bleeper wud gan, wi me cumin bak hame twarthie oors efter, an tha denner or tha ootin ruin’t. An forbye tha femilie, A’m thenkfu fur tha nicht wee Geordie caa’d roon wi tha foarm tae join tha Brigade. Gif he wus tae caa roon thenicht A wud dae it aa ower agane, fur tha mair thair wus monie bad times, thair wus monie mair guid yins daein yer ain wee bit fur tha communitie.

We thank John for letting us reproduce this prose piece, originally written for the Ballyboley class, and hope that we’ll see more of his work in the future.