Ying Tong, Ying Tong

The following incident took place in Spa Street, Woolmanhill, Aberdeen, quite a few years ago.

As a background I first must report that the first two letters of the street name fell off through the passage of time.  For a brief spell visitors wondered at the sign ‘A Street’.  Maybe they were waiting for a definite article.

Old Angus Mutch used to stay in a flat in Spa Street, he was quite frail and had sadly lost his wife a few years earlier.  However my friend and work colleague Ann used to keep an eye on him and get his morning rolls and P and J before she left for work.  Sadly one morning she found him collapsed, but conscious, and got her flat mate to help her.  They dialled for an ambulance and tried to get him up.  He asked them not to lift him but said he was bursting for a pee.

‘I use that plastic jar during the nicht’ said Angus.

Ann and Maggie looked at each other realising he was lying down.

‘You’ll hae to put my ‘mannie’ in the jar.  But it’s OK quinies, go and fetch the sugar tongues fae the scullery’.

Which they did.

A few years later, on the occasion of the Silver Wedding anniversary of the Current Creel and myself, Ann felt this was an apt gift for us.