The front door goes, that’s them home. Phew. Its 2.54am and you’ve hardly slept. Try not too worry about them eh but you do, coz you mind (vaguely) what you were like at that age.
When I was 18/19, we stayed in Murdoch Terrace and we’d come oot the pub glorious and stoat up the road. I mind we did the Grand National one night through the gardens of the big houses on the Doune Road.
I’d arrive home, get the key from under the mat and let myself in. If there was no key I’d try the kitchen window. Clamber up on the coal bunker,force open the hopper window, arm in and down and open the window below, clamber in trying not to break anything in the darkness.
Getting home can be tricky tho. I mind in a taxi from Doune and theres a body lieing in the middle of the road. We got him up, poured him in the car and got him home. Slightly older than me he was , deid noo. Another guy thought it’d be fun to ride the horse that used to be in the field at the Keir roundabout. Broke his erm! My mate once walked through the train tunnel home to Dunblane. True story.
And yet the walk could be great fun. One closing time near Christmas,we spilled out the Railway to find freshly fallen snow it was magical we laughed ourselves silly, threw snowballs, made snow angels.We walked up the middle of the Doune Road singing Caravan of Love by the Housemartins*. Bet the locals loved us that night. But what a night.
Finally, walking up the middle of the road is a Dunblane thing. It used to freak Elaine when we started going out, her being Dumbarton. “You cannae do that”. “How no’, theres nae cars!”.
And I still do it haha !
* Caravan of Love was released Nov ’86 so this was probably just before Christmas ’86.