Frosty's Euphoria

Ross Fraser

The exhausting heat was so intense that the tar on the road melted and fire hydrants upon every street had been set off sending gallons of water into the sky. Kids on the street celebrated in those wonderful waterfalls of fun, splashing cars on their way by. The shop in the scheme was overrun with desperate people eager to get nice cool liquids down them. The troops stood unevenly outside with their 3litre bottles of Frosty Jack Cider and diluting juice in hand, sweating in the vile heat waiting for me to come out with a handful of ice poles to battle the dehydration. Frustrated anxious excitement burst from the seams of us as we set off on our pilgrimage; license to get pished. Hanoverhill was a housing estate within a housing estate, a set of wrongly red tenements upon a grassy hill located to the south-west of Townhead, a magnificent establishment for what we did; get wrecked with the madness. All the other tenements in Townhead identified each other like a set of black and grey dominos lined up in an oval shaped circle waiting for the thunder storms inside buildings to erupt and set off the ricochet. Unlike the mainland of the scheme Hanoverhill had a bit of illegalness about it, naughtiness; an underworld culture which sometimes gave me the shivers as I criminally crept past it at all hours in the morning.

The hill had eyes which stared us out daringly as we approached to 'square-go' its steepness once again. In no time at all I'd strangled a bottle of cider for the first plep of the day. But soon I was already planning my plot for illegal cash, because the bucks in my pocket had unsurprisingly been drunk. So wakey-wakey rise and shine, its time to get up! Of course, I was talking to my other half, the half I hate when times go wrong, the half I adore when crime pays positively, the half I can't get rid of inside me because I grow it, I live it and have learned to love it! At the back of seven the funds were low, the crowd dispersing. Only the Fantastic Four remained; Mick, Mark, JC and me. The Barrel Brigade, Barrels are what we refer to 3 litres of Frosty Jack Cider. 'Mark! Your call for the funds!' he agreed. We made a dash for Mark's close then back to the shop for last orders. Right, got the goods; the Barrel, the Diluting juice and the pleps and we headed for the colleges two minutes away to carry on what we'd started. But my head was racing, not just with alcohol bubbles but the sense of easy cash in the colleges for a few laptops. In-out, easy money.

I waited till I had another couple in my system before I attempted it, Dutch courage they call it. Plus that Barrel would be stanked in no time so I needed my fix from it. Laugh, joke, plep spilled, argument, fight. 'That's it, I'm off - you're jailbait! I'll catch up wae yees.' Always the same with them, couldny stand still like mature drinkers and get on with it, saying that mature drinkers didn't stand outside did they? Mature drinkers sat in houses, went to pubs and clubs not stood on their arses on housing schemes on street corners like a bunch a deadbeats. Uff who cares, I went to the trees then scaled across over the college building 20ft high, crept up and down the slopes then onto the roof. But this time the window was locked so I needed to force entry now and quick cause I'd disturbed the peace with the seagulls. They hovered above trying to protect their nests as if I was some sort of egg snatcher! Don't underestimate those feathered buggers, they'd scoop down at you like flying daggers and give quite a stab. Window locked; funny enough there's a boulder at my feet, SMASH! Shattered double glazing, window opened, college entered. First two laptops in sight, grab them and away we go. S***, I've triggered the alarms when I pulled the wires out of them, neat booby trap, but does this face look bothered?

I seemed to have enough time to wander about the office, grab a briefcase and try to open it like a right cracker. Time's ticking here, what's that noise? Aw, only the footsteps of two curious security guards climbing the staircase closing in on their pray. S***! I yelled to my other half 'you idiot! Don't blame me; you're the one that's out of it barely conscious!' I hid under a desk, could feel my heart racing I was that mad with it. The security searched before one said 'Right let's wait downstairs for the police arriving.' Aw thank god now - 'I'll wait here Pat, in case there's still anybody in here'. Naaaaaw! Captured with no way of escaping, what next? Two police arrived with their third colleague; a dog. GREAT! The dog had sniffed past me for the third time when WOOF WOOF WOOF, right in my face 'POLICE - GET OUT FROM UNDER THE TABLE' they cried out. Before I knew it I was on the floor cuffed and all I could think about was having to do a full weekend in the station then go through the hardcore process of court on the Monday where the judge would decide whether I would get remanded in custody or bailed. Monday arrived after a death sentence in Stuart St. cop-shop, the court cells were over flowing, my lawyer approached me hopefully with good news for bail. 'WHAT! BAIL OPPOSED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BAIL OPPOSED!' I rant 'Your getting remanded is what I'm saying', politely ignorant my lawyer spoke. Now I was worried, I'd never been remanded now what do I do? What can you do ya mug your nabbed this time! I told myself AAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGH! NABBED!