Preamble ...
... postamble?

Life fur wimmen in th Fifties an Sixties wis a lot different fae noo. Th men had a joab an brocht in th wages (or signed on th dole an brocht hame th dole money). Wimmen worked at hame, looked eftir th bairns an did th hoosework. Nae 'coffee mornins' or wee pairt time joabs fur pin money. If a wimman worked, it wis cause she'd lost her man in th war. Wis an awfy lot o faimlies wi granny an mum tae help each ither. Wimmen did heavy work, an it wisnae their place tae complain. Ye jist got on wi it. An if ye come doon wi th big C, then ye hoped th doctors could dae summit. An if they couldnae, well, ye jist carried on. Naebody talked aboot it. Evry year at th same time, a pile o wimmen fae th street wid go tauttie pickin wi Jeck Broon. He ran a squad evry year, wis weel kent, an liked tae tak th same squad wi aw th guid workers. Ma mum wis there, cause we never had aw that much money that a few pund extra widnae help (an ye got aw th tautties ye could eat!). Aw th bairns had tae tak skale dinners fur a few weeks, an though ah liked th puddens, Ah developed a life-long loathing fur tapioca an beetroot. Onnywey, wan year, Mrs Doak asked tae jine th squad. Jock wisnae shair, bit ma mum kent Mrs. Doak had been through a really bad time wi havin th tumour an havin tae hae a mastectomy. (Ah'm yaisin th big words noo, but in thae days, only wimmen talked tae wimmen aboot it). So she pit in a guid word fur her. She worried aboot whit micht happen, bit ma mum had a heart an she wis oor neebur efter aw. Jeck's squad wis weel kent as hard workers an so they got aw th guid fairms roond aboot Cupar. At wan place, they even got tae have their piece in th byre wi th coos, when it wis rainin at th break time. Later on, as they're finishin up th dreels fur th day, doon come th fairmer. Ye could tell afore he got tae them that he wisnae happy. He come huffin an puffin across th raws, an straicht fur th wimmen. "Whit wan o youse has ta'en mah clock? Someboddies ta'en mah alairm clock! Th wan Ah yaise tae tell th coos that it's time fur milkin." Coorse, awboddy's sayin it's no them. Jeck's tryin tae settle th fairmer. Awboddy's lookin at each ither aqn Mrs. Doak's lookin like butter widnae melt in her mooth. "We'll hae tae search th bags!" says Jeck. "It's only richt!" So awboddy brings oot their bags, an Jeck looks through them. No a thing tae be fund. So he looks in th lorry. Nuthin there. Even checked th wee saunbags that th wimmen had fur th tautties they got tae tak hame wi them. Still nuthin. Th fairmers no happy, but whit can he dae? In thae days, nae wey could a man search a wumman. So of he goes, mutterin tae himself. Jecks fair worried that they'll no get back tae that gairm again, but there's no a thing he can dae. "Awboddy back on th lorry, then. We're goin hame." It would be just on th brae ootside Cupar, aboot five o'clock, when aw o a sudden, a muffled ringin wis heared. It's no quiet in th back o a lorry grindin up th Hill o Tarvit, but th soond wis definately an alairm clock. They aw start lookin aroond, an it disnae tak long tae realise that Mrs. Doak is ringing. Tae be precise, her chest is ringing. An noo, come tae think o it, she yaised tae be a 34B under that big wooly cardigan, an noo she's mair o a 36DD! Without battin an eyelash, she's got her haund in her top, an oot comes th alairm clock. "That's a guid clock, that. Must be milkin time." That wis it. Ah think that th hale squad wis laughin their heids aff, aw th wey hame. Which is how Mrs. Doak wis able tae get aff th lorry at oor street wi twa bags o tautties belongin tae ither folk, an naeboddy noticed! Jeck did tak th clock back tae th fairmer, an they did get back there th next year. Mah mum reckoned that evry time efterwards that th fairmer come oot th byre, he had a smile on his face. A couple o years eftir that, th doctors shook their heids, an sent Mrs Doak hame fur th last time. She wis in her forties, gey young but death is nae respecter o age. Mrs Doak had lived her life wi no a care fur authority or respectability. Jist enjoyed it while she had it. Ah ca' say that ah blame her fur that. Th last few weeks, th wimmen o th street come an sat wi her. Sometimes, sh wis that doped up wi morphine that she jist slept. But ither times, ye could hear th laughin through th wa as they told an retold th auld stories. An sometimes they w'd sing th auld songs. As a bairn, ah couldnae understand hoo onnyboddy could laugh an sing at a time like that. Fifty years on, when ah see folk getting auld, an getting fobbed aff tae a hospital, ah think that it wis so much better then. Ye need yer freends, then. An a few laughs tae see ye on yer wey.