Blackness Line

This morning I walked along the Blackness route and created a poem from some of the house names I saw along the way.

Lubnaig

Innisfail

Balcairn

Redcroft

The Gap

Cedarlea

Bellevue

Ethie Bank

Duntreath

copyright © Olsen 2015

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Lightening Strikes

Wednesday 18th of June 1952

It was just another ordinary early morning start for Mr Owen Keenlan, he had just started his shift with Mr David Lane, the driver of the Ninewells route. Even though it was early, he felt hot in his conductors uniform. He thought it was going to be a hard days shift as it was so close. He had a headache and this was always a sure sign a storm was on its way.

An empty Ninewells tram slowly left the terminus, on time to a rumble of thunder overhead.  Just as Mr Keenlan was about to hop on board BANG! Lightening struck the rear side of the tram. He thought the lightening hit terrible close to the car and had disappeared down the side near the wheels. Moments later he saw a blinding flash and smoke began to rise from the seats on the lower deck. The driver immediately pulled on the brakes and joined Owen, both men franticly threw sand on the fire, hoping they could keep the flames down till the Dundee fire brigade could finished the job off.

Little did they know, moments later, in another part of the city, four passengers boarded Blackness tram. FLASH! Lightening struck and blew the trams fuses, setting fire to a cable under the seat in the lower deck. The passengers quickly got off as the driver Mr Hadane and the conductor Mr Mullis desperately used bags of sand to put the fire out.

 

Inspired by a story found in the Dundee Press and Journal

 

The Process of Place

Accumulate, articulate

Acceleration of annihilation

Disruption in differentiation

Immediate impressions

Internalised interrogations

My misidentification

Reactionary rootedness

Ritualised romance

Mobility in momentum

Speeding up

Spreading space

Process of place

copyright © Olsen 2015

Tram Terror Tale

Today I walked from Ninewells to the city center, as I walked along the Perth Road I met an elderly gentleman called Lennie and this is this is the story he told.

As a small child Lennie used to get on the number three tram with his mother to the west end of the city, daily around teatime. Lennie usually loved riding the tram, the movement would shunt his body side to side to the sound of clatter- clatter- clatter. But he disliked the daily trip on the number three; he would hide into his mothers’ coat. Every time the passed the shipbuilding yards he would keep one eye on the window, just in case the blood splattered boiler suits would venture onto his tram, but they never did.

As he passed the yard he would peek out of the window, compelled too look at the evil men waiting for their tram home. Smoking, chatting and laughing in line with blood stained boiler suits, hand and faces. He wondered what kind of wickedness happened in the shipyards during the day and what did they murder?

One day Lennies’ mother asked him why he made such a fuss about getting on the number three as he loved riding the other trams. Lennie explained about the blood men and his mother laughed. “Yer talkin mince son, it’s no blood, its paint! They men paint the ships with ox blood lead paint.”

copyright © Olsen 2015

Please look both ways !

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Mr Manson was walking on the busy Victoria road, where the trams pass in both directions. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a wee lad on a bike trying to cross the road. Mr Manson could see that the lad thought he could get out and pass the tram before the other tram passed in the opposite direction. On lookers watched in dismay and the lad nearly made it but was caught just as the trams met. The drivers slammed on the breaks hard and with a high-pitched screech both trams stopped suddenly.

By the time Mr Manson reached the incident, he began to laugh uncontrollably. There stuck neatly between the two trams was the wee lad, still sitting on the cycle looking bewildered. He had been caught between each tram by the handlebars and the look on his face was priceless.

It took ten minuets of careful manoeuvring, easing both trams back and forward before there was room to turn the handlebars and get the bike free.

 

Inspired by a story found in the Dundee Press and Journal