Thursday, March 22, 2007

Fever Induced Ramblings...

*Cough, cough*


Today I am sick. My whole body hurts, I can’t eat and it’s painful to swallow. Oh là là. I really want my mum here with her healing hands and soothing presence. Mmm some nice Heinz tomato soup would certainly help. Or some baby Calpol. Love that stuff.

I haven’t felt this sick since the time I was kissed by a homeless girl in Glasgow.

It wasn’t consensual, I must add. In fact, I still feel rather violated.

It was last December, PartySoft, his friend, FP and I had been to see the Pogues gig in Glasgow that night and we were waiting at the bus station to get back to Edinburgh.

Buchanan Bus Station is not one of my favourite places to hang out at night, or in the daytime either, actually. It is not rare to see neds / chavs / raceilles having fist fights, blood spattered all over the floor. Several times I’ve witnessed girl on girl fighting…pulling hair, slapping faces and the like. It’s just not a classy place, shall we say.

It is, however, a favourite haunt for homeless beggars. They always have the same ‘story’; they have missed their last bus home, can they have a few quid for a taxi? They need some money to get themselves and their (invisible) baby / sister / brother / grandmother home, can we spare some change? Some of them shed some crocodile tears; others don’t make any effort at all. They all look like they are stoned / drunk / not on this planet anymore. Some of them are smoking cigarettes and have a bottle in their hands. And I know where my money is going to go. It’s not going to help these people in the long run. I usually smile sympathetically and say "sorry, I’ve only enough for my own bus fare". Generally they accept that story.

Before anybody criticises me for not being compassionate, I’d like to point out that I do give money to charities and Big Issue sellers. I just don’t like to see my money going into the hands of someone who will go ahead and spend it on alcohol, cigarettes or drugs. Food and shelter; yes. Things you can survive without; no.

Anyway, this particular incident was badly timed (for me). I am getting a can of diet coke from a vending machine, my purse in my hand for the world to see, the boys chatting behind me. A Glaswegian girl approaches the boys and begs them for some money because she and her little sister (who is nowhere to be seen) have no cash to get home and need a bus fare. The boys apologise and say they have no change. She looks at FP who (although speaks English very well), says “uhhh je suis désolé mais je comprends pas…je peux pas parler anglais.”

What a great excuse!

She turns to me. Noticing my purse in my hand, open with a whole load of change glimmering in the light, I swear, for a moment her eyes have dollar signs in them.

Her face is dirty; filthy actually. Her clothes are old and grubby, her eyes glazed over slightly. Cigarette in one hand, the other hand reaches out to me, cupped, waiting for me to put money in it.

“Please doll, ah really need some change. Ma wee sista is really upset coz we cannae get back hame and all ah need is a couple o’ quid. Please can ye spare some change, hen? Please?” She begins to snivel.

For a second I think about pretending I’m French too. But instead I stupidly ask “How much do you need?”

She starts at £2 and then £2.50. I hand her the £2.50, reluctantly, then she requests “that other pound that’s sitting right there”.

I’ve had enough, I’m being exploited. I tell her, “look I’m sorry but I’m a student, I can’t afford to give you any more money.”

She pleads a little while longer until she finally realises I am sticking to my guns. Next thing I know, she has wrapped herself around me in a bear hug. Her dirty face touches my neck and she kisses me.

What’s she doing? I sob inside. Am I being attacked? Is this some new and strange way of assaulting someone?

Has she deliberately given me some sort of saliva transmitted disease? Has she passed on head lice? I should have given her the damn money.

But no, she is just grateful. She thanks me profusely and runs off into the distance.

I get on the bus, almost weeping at the fact I’ve been kissed by a stranger. I knew I’d become sick, I just knew it.

And I was right. Two days later I had to spend a whole night dozing in the bathroom, waking up every 15 minutes to vomit.

And the moral of this story is you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t. I think. Or it could be the fact that I'm a bit obsessive compulsive. Then again, it could be one of those stories with no moral atall.
Take your pick.


ColbyPants said...

the moral of the story is: being sick is not very fun.

hope you feel better soon!


Quote said...

Hope you are feeling better as you read this. First of all, thank you for visiting my blog and leaving a comment. It was quite witty. :-)
I was thinking of linking our blogs, if you don't mind, that is. Let me know by posting a comment on my site. Thanks, get well soon and I'm sure there will be another pair of jeans which will fit much better than the previous one. :-)

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Awww thanks for the sympathy guys!!

Maybe the moral of the story was that I wanted to hear a collective 'awwwww' and to get some sympathy?


T.D. Newton said...

Great post. I am now a subscriber.

Princesse Ecossaise said...

ohhhh my first! how exciiiiiiting! Thanks t.d. newton ^_^


michael said...

^_^ 欢迎来我的地盘转转
Welcome to my space,pretty girl.

ColbyPants said...

I subscibed before him :-P

Princesse Ecossaise said...

Even better!! Thanks!! I feel mega cool with TWO whole subscribers!



T.D. Newton said...

That's funny. Someone actually wants to feel more special than I do.

Yeah, I'm seriously enjoying your blog and have sent you on to two of my friends (they may have both commented by now, not too sure).

I rarely go back and check on the "status" of the comments that I've left. I should get better at that in case someone responds, eh?

Princesse Ecossaise said...

I do like to feel special, I can't deny it!

Thanks so much for spreading the word to your friends, how nice is that!!