Preamble ...
... postamble?

Come and meet the neeburrs. When we steyed at at th end o oor street, th Doaks were oor nex door neeburrs. They didnae hae much (ceptin bairns, that is), but they took life as it come. An onnythin else if it wisnae too hot or too heavy! Th Gairdens wis a tough street, an th folk were even tougher. There were even telly shops in Pittenweem that couldnae get th rental money fae folk in oor street. Daft eedjits. Shairly they must have thocht that it wis a long wey tae come an rent a telly. Had tae be a reason. A lot o folk in th street thocht that th Doaks gi'ed th street a bad name. There wis Mr Doak an Mrs Doak. They must've had first names, but we wis bairns an bairns dinnae ask. Then there was Effie, Maggie, Jeannie and Cath, the lassies, an Harry, Jeek an Roddy. Then th next generation started efter that. Wis never shair wha wis wha. An Angela. She wis Effie's bairn. They never seemed tae hae faithers. (an efter lookin at ma ancestors, ah cannae complain!) Angela yaised tae run up an doon th street wearin jist a semmit. Hoo some o th high an michty tutted. But ah mind th day when they brocht Angela oot th back. Oh, they were prood. 'Angela's sayed her furst word! Go on, Angela, say it!' She screwed up that pawky wee face in concentration an, wi a wee bit o hesitation sayed … Well. Ah'll let ye guess. Aye, Effie started them young. Furst of aw, ah'm gaun tae tell ye aboot wee Roddy. Roddy wis th youngest o th laudies. O aw th Doaks, Roddy wis th craftiest when it come tae nickin stuff. He'd go doon tae Leven at th start o th summer, an ye have tae mind that in thae days, Woolies had three entrances, an a store detective that wis forced tae follow a dress code! Nae bother fur Roddy. In th front door an oot th back twa minutes later, fully equipped with swimming trunks, snorkel, flippers, towel an a pund an a half o pick-n-mix. Roddy never had onny money, an ah don't think he really needed onny. Woolies certainly never got their haunds on it, if he did. Ah mind weel th day that Roddy come oot o th scullery wi a dizen eggs. Mrs Doak must've lashed oot that dae, an ah presume she wis gaun tae hae them fur th tea. Roddy got there furst! He took oot th furst egg, an straight awa, he flung it at th brick dyke we had at th bottom o th gairden. Splat! Then anither, an yet anither. Egg efter egg went th same wey. Splat. Splat. Splat. Till th last wan. By some misjudgemet, it sailed ower th dyke intae th back yaird o th co-op. (As it happens, th same co-op as featured with my cousin Erchie). Mebbe Roddy's wrist wis gettin tired. A wee minute later, a heid pops up ower th dyke. "Here! This egg came fleein ower th wa, an by some miracle, it hisnae brokin. Ye'd better tak this egg an gie it tae yer mum, son, an carefu noo, case it gets brokin!" Roddy took th egg aff th man, an walked back tae th hoose. Jist afore he got tae th door, he turned smartly roond. Billy th Kid w'd hae loved th movement. A quick flick. Splat! Many years later, Roddy went intae a burnin hoose an rescued a lassie an her bairn. Jist goes tae show. Awboddy has their worth. Seein as ah'm tellin ye aboot the Doaks, an specially wee Angela, ah thocht ah'd gie ye anither wee story aboot them. They didnae hae much money, bit when they did, they splashed oot. They were aye on a hunger or a burst. So wan time, when Mr. Doak got his bounty fae th Terries, they aw went oot and got new claes. Angela got this braw wee frock, white it wis, wi wee flooers on it, and lacy short sleeves. She really did look like her name. Awa she went, roond tae th local shop. No wi onny money, mind. Jist Angela and her innocence. Efter a wee while, th shopkeeper noticed Angela hingin around th freezer. Th wan wi th Jubbly's an ice cream in it. 'Whit ye daen at that fridge?' Angela jist smiled an walked oot th shop. Shopkeepers are no daft. When wee Roddy wis in th shop th day afore, he had nicked twa tins o treacle sponge an made a run for it. Th shoppie had caught him, but no afore he had posted th evidence. Had tae let him go, an then wait fur th five o'clock collection tae get them back. Angela had him puzzled, tho. She wisnae runnin, and there wis nae place on a short sleeved summer frock tae hide onnythin. An then he figured it oot. 'Lift up yer airms, lassie!' She did, an doon fell twa blackcurrant Mivvis fae her oxters. When th angels fell fae Heaven, somehow I feel that blackcurrant Mivvis had a part in it. Lucifer an th ice lolly. There's a chapter that's shairly missin fae th Auld Testament!