It wis the same summer ah met George, an ah wis already carryin oor first, wee Georgina. Ever since then ah’ve been sure the Batchie Woman’s got the gift, an fer better or worse, ah aie heed her visions. They’re fairly clearer than the few ah’ve had mysel ower the years. O ho! Yesterday ma nephew the Bissaker came back fae work sayin the Batchie Woman wis needin a word wi me. ‘A wee bit ae bother she’s wantin aff her chest,’ that’s whit he cried it. That wis aw ah could get oot ae him, though, an since then ah cannae think ae ony ither thing. Ah’ve sat wonderin whit her ‘wee bit ae bother’ means. The Bissaker cries the Batchie Woman’s work ‘auld wifey’s footerin’. He doesnae tak ony ae it tae hert. Ainly believes in things he can sell. O ho! Ho! Ha! Rags an scrap metal are that loun’s ainly faith! But the Batchie Woman foretelt his ain birth, years ago. She kent aw aboot his scrap yard, even then. She kent afore abody that he’d buy thon place an mak a winner ae it, an that a year later he’d hae jobs tae gie aw oor breed.
