Bookends.
The Adjutant drew deeply on his fag, flicked it off and says, "there it is". I replied, "I'd rather not". A smile crept upon the Adj's phizog, "you're a Subbie, he's the Commanding Officer".
Above was the end of a conversation in Shrewsbury, forty years ago. A new CO had arrived, looked at the qualifications of his junior Officers to instruct soldiers in Adventure training and, found us wanting. Half-a-dozen were dispatched around the country to gain the necessary certificates in Kayaking, Ridge Walking, Top Knotting, Abseiling and my particular good fortune took me to Rosyth for the month of March to become proficient in Sailing. Early Spring on the Firth of Forth, with nightly refuge in a naval dockyard.
Being most windswept and interesting was not enough, I had to room with a Royal Horse Artillery Subbie who approached the course with all the enthusiasm of a new born giraffe. Quite right too, he had the incentive of Cypriot sunshine awaiting at the end of the month. I suspect it made the endless capsize drills more bearable? Eight hours every day allowed us to progress through the various classes of dingy, none awarded any protection from the elements. Still, preferable to an evening of cold fatigue with a Gunner possessing a cassette player and two cassettes.
The choice was an uplifting hour of Joy Division or Simon and Garfunkel warbling Bookends. Eventually, I read the sleeve notes on the latter. Apparently, Paul Simon had written the songs on his two year sojourn in England and for his commission to provide accompanying music for the Graduate. Koo-koo-ka-choo Mrs Robinson. Paul sat in Rochdale railway station, ticket for his destination and was dreaming of making out with St Cecelia. A journey ending, another beginning, who knew Paul Simon indulged in ambiguity?
Preparing to jibe, jibing now. After months, years of Stuart Cosgrove continually telling us he was a loner, did not interact, preferred to read, .................... etc. This season he has provided a couple of Bookends. During last Summer, with the SPFL's organised vote on declaring both Champions and relegations, he became exceedingly exaggerated that Doncaster, McKenzie and, Maclennan would not deliver their promise to Peter. He ranted, became excited and, spoke of a lunch in Gamba with Neil Doncaster. He opined, "Neil Doncaster should remember what I said to him"?
On Sunday last, the guest on Off the Ball is Tony Watt and he tells of his daily twelve minute commute from Mount Vernon to Fir Park. Of course, Stuart has a far more interesting commute. Back in the day when he was a Staff Writer at the NME, his office was in the same building as the Daily Telegraph. This would be 15 years past and the CEO of the Telegraph at the time was Murdoch Maclennan. Regularly over a period of 2-3 years, Shifty McGifty gave the Blessed Stu' a lift home to Sarf London in the his Chauffeur driven car. What a commute, oh the conversations? I guarantee you, the word Rangers was NEVER used.
Shifty and Cosgrove in the same car, driven by HATE.
Garrulous Stu' was in a state of high excitement on Sunday, he told of Saint's journey from worst team in Scotland, back to the Premiership and wondered why BBC Scotland had not commissioned the Documentary? Stuart, along with big Sellik man, Don Coutts had their own Production Company, 'A Big Star in a Wee Picture'; they produced numerous programmes, 'Halfway to Paradise', 'Possil Girls', 'Talk on the Wild Side', .. etc. Why doesn't Stu' produce the Journey? Oh, that's right, the production company went burst, hope they paid the face painters?
Cosgrove ended the show with two predictions, Hibs to win 0-2 and ra Sellik to win the Scottish Cup tie at Ibrox. I think he was trying to cover his tracks after revealing he is BIG pals with the Scottish football Establishment? Seriously, the Club should call out the Bampot. Look around, the leaves are brown and, when Cosgrove's around, it's always a hazy shade of winter for Rangers supporters.