Aince upon a time , (that's foo gweed fairy tales start), there wis this loon in Ballater, (I'm nae tellin ye his name), fa wis the hert-throb o maist o the quines. I widna ging as far as say he lookit like a film star, bit he wisna bad, gie or takk a few plooks. I think his main attraction wis that he wis a bit o a rebel at the skweel, that kine that come oot wi cheeky like things tae the teachers that made ye gasp half in horror, bit half in admiration as weel. He hid a John Wayne swagger an the air o bein nae really interestit in quines, an ye were only fourteen or so an gie easily taen in!
Ae day at the skweel he gied me a dunt on the back.
'Fit aboot comin tae the A.T.C. Social wi me?'
Ma hert near stoppit, bit I managed tae splooter oot 'Oh ay!'
I min I near floated on air that day, an my pals glowered an whispered tae ane anither ,
'She thinks she's great jist cos he's askit her tae the Social...bigsy bitch.'
I wisna carin fat they said for they were jist hotterin wi jealousy an I wis only fourteen an ready for a bit o romance!
The loon cam doon oor lanie tae collect me the nicht o the Social. He stood like a gowk at the door o the porch.
'I'll nae come in,' he muttered tae faither, fa wis giein him a gweed hard look as if tae say,
'Nae bloody nonsense wi my quine noo!'
He hid his gweed grey suit an a fite sark on, an a knitted fite silk scarf roon his neck, an broon leather gloves on. His face wis scrubbit an his curly hair held doon flat tae his heid wi Bryllcream. I can still smell the fine clean aroma in the freesty nicht air.
So aff we set doon the road tae the A.T.C. hut, aside the Fire Station. We hid a rare nicht, a great feed o buns an pieces an plenty o dauncin an lauchin. My pals were aa spikkin tae me again, so we hid a great time. Seen in wis eleven o clock, an sweir-like, we hid tae leave. Ootside, the freesty air wis clean an sharp, an there wis a sky-load o stars an a full meen that made it near like day-licht. It wis ower early tae ging hame we thocht, so we wandered ower the brig an doon the Pannanich Road.
Jist afore Dalmachie Wids, there's a seat on the brae abeen the road. This loon an me plonkit doon an newsed aboot aathing an naething. Then, he cuddlit in aboot an I got my very first kiss. I thocht I wis in Heaven wi the angels. Here wis I, a young-like quine, sittin wi this loon I thocht wis great. The Dee glitterin in the meenlicht, the stars glintin against the midnicht blue o the nicht sky an nae anither soon bit the murmer o the waater ower the steens. Tae me, it wis pure romance, an I can still get that feelin as I pass the seat, even nooadays.
I'll aye mine ane o the things he said tae me that nicht.
'My mither tellt me afore we cam oot, that ye were a gweed quine, nae tae try ony fool capers wi ye.'
Thinkin back, I didna realise at the time that it wis a kinno double-edged compliment.
We were sweir tae ging hame, bit the frost wis snell that nicht an we micht hae been found frozen tae the seat come mornin, so we hid tae get movin again.
I wis still in this dwaumy fog fin faither, in his drawers, bawled me oot at the fit o the stairs. Bit even his threats an sweirin swam ower ma heid that nicht. It hid been my first taste o the romance I'd only seen in the picturs, or in books. I wis really livin, noo.
We aa went separate weys in life, spread far an wide. I fyles mine on that nicht lang ago, an winner far the loon landit up, an foo life his dealt wi him! Aifter aa, yer first kiss is aye the sweetest, jist for the reason that it's the maist innocent ye'll iver be!