We’re Just Guessing, But You’re Not From Glasgow, Are You?

Twenty-odd years ago, I was propping up the bar in a pub on a side street in Brighton, England. I got into a conversation with this other bloke, in his sixties or seventies, I reckon. Although was a local, he had a strong Glasgow accent, so I sometimes had difficulty understanding him.

I wondered how he’d ended up in Brighton — work, family, retirement, whatever.

Me: “So, how’d you end up living in Brighton?”

Bloke: *Very quietly* “The guessing.”

I couldn’t fathom what “the guessing” could mean, and he’d said it very quietly and in Weegie (Glaswegian).

Me: “Sorry, the what? The… guessing?”

Bloke: *Still very quietly* “No, the guessing.”

Me: “Sorry, still not getting it. I can’t always hear things right—”

Bloke: *Loudly and clearly* “THE. GAY. SCENE!”

Okay, perhaps he hadn’t wanted to out himself in this particular pub, but even twenty-odd years ago, people didn’t really have a problem with this, especially in Brighton, which has been known for its gay community for at least half a century, I think.