ONLY RAISING DUST ON THE ROAD
Part 1 Buckfast, Lager & Fags
Note: ‘Only Raising Dust On The Road’ is a work
of fiction set in Thailand
lots of profanity throughout 18+
Glasgow to London, National Express
‘Nomad by nature’
I never even looked back as I boarded the bus. I had no desire to do so – I fucking hated the place. I breezed along the aisle-way and took to my seat, up the back and close to the bog. I sat my carry-on bag on the seat beside me. I didn’t want company and hoped the bag would be enough to influence any straggler struggling for a seat to sit elsewhere.
I sat and waited…
Passengers of every shape and size shuffled dolefully aboard the bus, jostling for space in the aisle; some searching for a free seat, others cramming baggage into the overhead, storage compartments. I sat face to the window, trying my best to look anti-social; outside a steady drizzle glistened as it drifted in waves across the brightly lit bus station…
My tactics worked like a charm – mores the pity, when a dark-haired stunner took the hint and opted for a seat beside a crater-faced goon in the seats across from me.
Nae big drama!
A sultry senorita might well have made for an engaging bus chum, but I knew from experience that no less than two seats would suffice for rudimentary sleeping requirements. And besides, there’d hardly be a shag on the cards and there was plenty of poontang where I was headed.
With everybody paired up, bar myself and a couple of other undesirables, the driver turned in his seat and glanced up the aisle; a half-hearted head-count and he spun back around. A wee neck and back stretch, and then the bus shuddered to life. I picked up my bag and undid the zipper: a couple of blues and a hot flask of tea… The engine ticked over; the lights went out; then sod’s fucking law… some skanky fucker sauntered up the aisle and parked his fusty-smelling carcass in the seat beside me…
* * * * * *
For some, Scotland is a place of beauty. A wild, weather-beaten land rich in folklore and legend; where tales of ghostly castles and mystical monsters are set against a backdrop of misty glens and mountains. Tartan and whiskey, bagpipes and kilts, Celtic and Rangers, I was proud of my Caledonian roots, but for me, Scotland was little more than a damp flat in a dull, grey, housing scheme.
Stuck in a monotonous cycle of scraping by on the dole, I was positively purpose, ambition, dream and drive free. I was merely drifting, like a feather with no control over the thermals that whisk it hither and thither. During the day I whittled away whatever cash I had in the bookies, before moving on to spend my evenings with the motley-crew of cut-throats and backstabbers I reluctantly looked upon as friends. Everyday was the same – a perpetual drag, only to be endured under a drink and drug induced haze.
I yearned – ached, for more; more money, more respect, more standing than the ‘unemployed-bum’ status I was currently tagged with; but with no qualifications or trade behind me I was extremely unenthusiastic about working for a pittance, and so accepted – with minimal resistance, the listless existence that the benefit trap provided.
My situation – I knew, was far from perfect. But I wasn’t pointing any fingers. My discontent and complete absence of purpose was a direct result of my inability to commit to anything.
I didn’t want what other people wanted: the job, the house, the nice car; twenty-five year mortgage, man – I’d rather be banged up. I was a free spirit – or so I liked to tell myself, and if it didn’t fit in a couple of bags then I didn’t want it.
What I did want, however, was to broaden my horizons – travel the world; experience the things I’d only ever dreamed about: the good and the bad. And that’s what I did – for a while.
I would fuck everything off at the drop of a hat and go sample life in different countries. I’d live on the streets, be a thief, go to prison, work hard, and be honest. I didn’t regret anything in life. I valued my experiences. But part of my philosophy was to learn from my mistakes and that part for the most part was yet to come to fruition.
This time I decided things would be different!
A nomad by nature I was back on the road – to Asia, no less! I’d never been there before and travel always inspired me. I had a job to start – if everything went to plan; a beautiful sun kissed island for a home. And after trailing through a quagmire of malcontent for so long, I was ready to transcend my disposition and re-establish a connection with the world.
‘Excuse me…’ the fusty dude said in a contemptuous-sounding tone, nudging me with his elbow and pointing with his condescending eyeballs to the reading light above my nut: ‘…I’m trying to sleep here.
‘Really,’ I replied sarcastically: ‘Well ye better park yir arse in another pew ma man coz ah’m up for the night.’
*Nae – No
*Blues – Valium / Diazepam
*nut – head
*ye – you
*yir – your
*ma man – my man
*ah’m – I’m
ONLY RAISING DUST ON THE ROAD
Part 1 Buckfast, Lager & Fags is available on Kindle and Paperback at Amazon
Only Raising Dust On The Road
The first Part of my book/novel (novella – approx. 25,000 words in Part 1) is available for download at Amazon in Kindle format.
Only Raising Dust On The Road
By Raymond Carroll
A novel set in Thailand
Part 1 – ‘Buckfast, Lager, & Fags’
‘Only Raising Dust On The Road’ is a novel set in Thailand. The book has been serialised into 4 novella length books.
Part 1 – Buckfast, Lager & Fags (approx. 26,000 words), follows a group of friends from around the globe as they embark on a money-making enterprise to Thailand.
Micky, is a heavy-drinking, drug-using Scotsman who has been hired by his friend ‘Slim’ to manage a bar on a tropical island on Thailand’s eastern gulf coast. Slim’s business partners: Sanjit – a South African-born Indian, and Connie – a white, Afrikaner Durbanite and Sanjit’s girlfriend, have recruited Winston (Sanjit’s South African Indian – ‘hood-rat’ – cousin) to be bartender. Can the mismatched motley-crew make this venture work? Nothing in Thailand is ever as it seems and dangers abound along the way.
The story is told from a multiple character first person point of view and takes place in the late 1990’s.
‘Only Raising Dust On The Road’ is a work of fiction.
Lots of profanity throughout. 18+
Part 2 – ‘Same-Same But Different’ on sale at Amazon…
Buy Part 1 of Only Raising Dust On The Road on Kindle and paperback at Amazon
‘In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.’
Copyright © 2017 Raymond Carroll