Preamble ...
... postamble?

Roman in th gloamin

There's no much in life that ye c'n be certain o'. Th list's gey short. Death an taxes has been mentioned. Ye c'd probably add th fact that if'n y're on th dole, an th dole manager insists that ye tak th job he's offerin, or he'll cut yer money, it'll be th worst job gaun. Wan that naebody else wants. Like th spinnin mill.
An wan mair certainty. If yis is in a boolin club, an ye want tae haud yer heid up high in boolin society, th green has tae be perfect. No jist guid, like a snooker table. Perfect! It has tae be perfect. Which means a really guid greenkeeper. A man wi' respect. Innerleven had Roman. Roman Cecielski.

Roman wis a Pole (nae prizes fur guessin!). Like maist o his countrymen, he'd come across tae Scotland durin th war, tae fight fur his country, against th Nazis. An havin won th war, they fund that they'd lost their country. Someboddy else h'd grabbed it. So lots of Poles became Scots. Married intae th locals, an let their faimlies gie aw th skale teachers a hard time wi' th names.
Roman never married. Someboddy said that aw his faimly were still in Warsaw, an efter th uprisin, they'd ayewis be stayin there. There wis jist Roman, an a sister that stayed in America.

Roman, he pit aw his time intae th green, an it wis beautiful. He talked tae it, cared fur an nourished it, an it grew, like a well loved child. It flourished. Gress c'n shairly unnerstand Polish. Mair than th skale teachers could.

An ye ken hoo ye c'n tell th perfect green? It's this. Gan oot in th mornin, early. Has tae be in th autumn, afore th sun comes up. Pick a seat aroond th green. Wan facin th sunrise. It'll be th seat that th greenkeeper ayeways fancies. An jist wait fur th sun.

Th dew'll be on th gress, an when th sun's low in th sky, it'll reach oot an brush th gress. Th drops o dew'll licht up, an if ye h'd yer heid jist richt, ye'll see a rainbow. If th green's perfect, ye'll jist see th wan. But if'n there's onny wee dips or rises, onny tiny imperfections, onny blades o gress oot o place, then they'll be ringed wi rainbows. Like th angels were tellin ye whaur ye c'd dae better. Ah think that th angels were fair pleased wi Roman's gress, an spent their time drappin hints up in Lochgelly. (If'n ye've ever played there, then ye'll ken that it's th green an no th bools that has a bias!).

Noo, y're probably thinkin that Roman wis a sad, wee soul, an no much in th wey o looks. Ye'd be wrang! Roman wis ower six fit, fair, an wi that wild look that some Poles have. Th wan that maks th women tremble, jist a bit, when they're tryin tae pit a bool up th length o wan o Roman's rinks. A wee nod fae Roman c'd mak a woman's day. Even Big Mary Hennan c'd saften her voice when Roman wis aroond.

No awboddy liked Roman. Mrs Jeffrey h'd never forgiven him fur orderin her aff th green, fur no havin th richt fitwear. An Jimmy Dalrymple h'd it in fur Roman. Fur darker reasons. Jimmy wis assistant greenkeeper, an thocht he should be th tap man.

An wee Cathy Fairfull.

Jimmy fancied Cathy. He followed her aroond like a bairn wi nae money foll's th last ice cream van o th season. Cathy wisnae interested, but Jimmy wis convinced that it wis only a matter o time afore he'd get his haunds on a free ice cream cone.

Cathy, ye see, fancied Roman. Baith were single, an nothin tae stop them. Roman w'd smile at Cathy, and she'd smile back. Jist occasionally, an ah don't think onnybody expected it tae amount t'anythin. Roman never took up onny o th offers that come his wey at th annual dances, an Cathy wis quiet, an no wan fur bein pushy.

Jimmy couldnae unnerstaund this. So as th boolin club got ready fur th end o th season, an th Innerleven Boolin Club Annual Dance, he wis schemin tae win Cathy, an see Roman oot o Innerleven. Pit oot tae pasture. That phrase h'd Jimmy cacklin tae himsel evry time he thocht aboot it. Th gress peyed nae attention. It spoke Polish.

Of coorse, wickedness c'n ayeways find an ally, an Mrs Jeffrey w'd tak on onny gossip that'd see Roman brocht doon. An th innocent, as often happens, wis used tae carry th knife that done th deed.
Roman's sister in America had sent a letter tae him, sayin why no come tae stey w' her faimly in Michigan. She'd addressed it, care o th club, an grubby haunds got tae it furst. B'th time it wis twisted by Jimmy an Mrs Jeffrey, it looked like Roman wis gaun tae up an leave Innerleven withoot a bye-yer-leave. Th greens w'd be neglected, an at th worst possible time. Th Club finals wis comin up, th weather wis doubtful (as usual) an Roman w'd be gallivantin aff tae America, leavin Jimmy tae cairry th burden, aw by himsel!

That wis it! Roman wis cawed up in front o th committee (egged on by Th Coh-Mittee), an telt that th Club w'dnae staund fur that sort o behaviour. He wis tae haund in his barrow, an his besom. An leave th green tae mair considerate haunds. Oot o th guidness o their hearts, Roman w'd be allowed tae stey fur th Annual Dance. That wey, it w'dnae look quite sae much like a drumheid court-martial.

Roman sayed not a thing. Jist smiled. Jimmy jist sniggered intae his hauf pint o shandy.

Come th Annual Dance, awboddy wondered if Roman w'd turn up. Specially Cathy. She wis really hurt at th wey dirt h'd been flung at Roman. She h'd a braw wee frock on fur th dance. Pale lemon, wi long sleeves. Richt fetchin. It wis plain, but on Cathy that nicht, it wis bonnie. Jimmy tried tae ogle her up, but wan glance fae Cathy wis enough tae send him runnin fur a drink tae pit oot th flames. He could bide his time. W' Roman gone, it wis only a matter o waitin. Shairly, he w'dnae hae th cheek tae show up at th dance.

It wis getting on, an ah think that Cathy wis startin t' hae a wee dab at her een, when, in came Roman. In a suit, an lookin evry inch a real man, he come straicht across tae Cathy. Th next dance wis his. An th next. If Jimmy h'd onny notions, then he w'd have t' wait till th morn. Th nicht wis fur Roman an Cathy. An at twelve o'clock, withoot onyboddy noticin, they were gone fae th dance, an away. Jimmy, by this time, wis snorin awa in th corner an his wife wis thinkin aboot cryin fur a taxi tae get them hame. (Ah c'n see that ye've spotted th wee detail that Jimmy didnae think wis important).

Th next day wis th Club Finals. Quite why th finals should be efter th Dance an th haundin oot o th cups, ah couldnae say. Ah always reckoned that it wis tae stop th Dance bein spiled by wan smug grin an a lot o soor faces. When it come tae bein champion, ther can only be wan. An wi awboddy bein hung ower, it meant that onyboddy micht win. It's wan theory, an it micht well be th richt wan. Wha kens?

It wis th usual ratty, bad tempered set o rinks. Roman wisnae there, an neither wis Cathy. An w' Jimmy bein th heid greenkeeper, it wis him that got aw th stick when th match fur th Club Women's Championship deteriorated intae a slanging an a swearin session. Somehow, nae matter hoo hard Big Mary Hennan an Mrs Jeffrey tried tae play a bool on th centre rink, th bools w'd wobble in mid run, an head off in aw directions. Naeboddy h'd seen a match like it. It wis as if th bias on th bools changed w' evry end. By th time someboddy won, naebody cared, an Jimmy Dalrymple w'd be up in front o th committee. Awboddy blamed th greenkeeper, cause, of coorse, naeboddy w'd dare blame th players!

If only Jimmy h'd been up early that mornin, an sat in th seat that Roman favoured. He'd have seen, jist as th sun come up, that th dew wis on th gress, an th centre rink wis a riot o rainbows. Whit looked like a broad, shallow dint wis there, w' a couple o smaller, deeper dints, wan on each side. If it wisnae fur th rainbows, ye w'dnae ken they were there. Plays havoc w' th bools, does a dint.

Whaur did th dints come fae? Roman w'd ken, but he wisnae there. An he'd be too much of a gentleman t' say. An when a letter fae America come tae th club a few weeks later, aw it contained wis Cathy's locker key an a note t' say that Mr and Mrs Roman Cecielski would be joinin anither boolin club. In Michigan.

Ah cannae prove this, but ah wis telt that when they opened Cathy's locker, there wis this plain lemon dress in there. W' gress stains. On th back. Ye ken whit it's like wi some materials. Ye cannae get gress stains oot withoot bilin. An bilin ruins th material.

An Roman wis a gentleman.