Hoors? Yeah... Hoors. Prostitutes, Tarts, Hookers, Ladies of Negotiable Affection, call them what you will. For 8 years or so I lived in granite tenement. My Neighbours Were Hoors. Sadly for us all (!?) the brothel was closed down and I moved out of the area. I never did get around to writing about the court case though...

Friday, January 28, 2005

Journey Home

Now I can tell you about the journey home, one week later, from the airport!

For once the taxi was organised by the company and met me at the airport. We drove home with the usual taxi driver banter and chit-chat.

Almost all the way home and I tell him where to stop. "It's easier for you to turn the taxi round here. Just drop me off here."

He pauses. (I have to sign a chit if the company is to pay for my taxi fare). I suppose he is just calculating the cost of the fare, but no. He is THINKING.

He looks me in the eye. He hands me the chit to sign.

"Tell me..." he says edgily... "I'm new to the Grey Toon. I really don't mean to be rude, but is this a Red Light District!?"

I laugh. I pick up my bags ready to leave the taxi.

"You'll be talking about the brothel on the ground floor of my tennement then?" I give him the door number.

He looks horrified. He apologies, "Oh I'm so sorry! If I'd known it was true and that you lived there, I'd never have said anything"

So I laughed. "Yes. They are working girls."

He looks a bit white in the face, like he's going to get the sack for harassing a customer. "Only, I've picked girls up from there before and they were dressed like.... like... well! I can only say they were dressed like Prostitutes!"

(There are some words only a Scot can pronounce with such utter comedy that one would see in a 1940's Ealing comedy. I have to say that he didn't say "Prostitutes!" so much as "pRRRRosTiTutes!!!!!!" like he was about to quote from the bible)

"Aye. That'll be them." I agreed.

"Haven't you reported them to the Polis!?" he askes, quite clearly shocked at how calm I am.

"They keep the hallway clean, they smile at me, they say good evening, they provide an essential service and they cause me so much less hassle than the guy below me with the stereo and the psycho friends... The police know about them. But to be honest, there's more out there for them to bother themselves about."

He replies "Ohhhh! I didnae mean ony offence... I was just suspicious. You know! I've picked up a few lassies. Drop offs. And they were... Well... Well... They were dressed like... pRRRRosTiTutes!!!!!!

"Ah just suspected. Tha's all." He grinned.

I grinned. I wished him good day.

And went to the pub.

(p.s. we passed through the red light district on the way home from the cinema last night. Hoors were out in full force. However no one legged hoor was spotted.)

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