will ye no' come back again?

Dear Marianne,

Grandad John is awa' hame tae Dundee. I cried when he left, Archie worried about me and Mike told me "it isn't funny!". I will miss him, he is such a lovely generous man. He laughed a lot at the weird stuff the kids did, he did his best to find where's bloody wally, he stroked Anna "the dog" and Mike "the cat" when asked to, he took the big kids to Superman and later watched Notting Hill with them, on my newest favourite friend FILMFOUR. He walked for hours around Canterbury Cathedral with a sore toe, he braved gale force winds, man-sized gulls, and the loonys on the Pier at Brighton. He even helped feed my friend's horrible hamster.
And all week he has been a walking bank, shoving bundles of notes first in to Craig's hand and then when Craig was out of the way, in to my hand. "Please don't give me any more" I pleaded, "please tak it" he pleaded back.
I remember my first time in the company of John(Craig's stepfather)and Margaret, his Mother. Thick working class Dundonean accents, splattered with wonderful onomatopoeic vocabulary like dub (puddle), breenge (a quick run), drouth (thirst), dry boak (gag/retch), cundie (drain), stramash (altercation) and others that you wish you used yourself, like ken, twa', bairn, and troosers. All of which I am right at home with now, but the first time I heard them talking together I was a wee bit out of my depth. I cringe now, as I remember that evening, when I answered "uh...sorry?" to every question, giving up after the fourth time of asking back and then turning the conversation to subjects less stress inducing like The Clearances.

Craig took him to London today to see him on his way. It is hard to see him go on his own, without Margaret, who died a year ago this week, I miss her too.

Rx