BILLY BREMNER MEMORIAL JOIN OUR CAMPAIGN
Date: 19th January 2025
Mr. Wilson graduates…
“Well Mr Critchley, it looks like you have at last provided us with something to be content and happy about.”
Across from her, Mr Critchley looked down upon the floor, humble but nervous. It wasn’t often that you were brought into The Budge’s office to have a discussion.
At least on this occasion, instead of getting bawled out by her, he was able to provide some cheer. It was then, that as the head of Mr Critchley rose to catch her eye, the front door of the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery opened and in walked Mr Wilson.
Both Mr Critchley and The Budge looked on with admiration as Mr. Wilson neatly navigated past the front desk, dropped his blazer from Balerno and his schoolbag to begin his march towards the stairs that would bring him up to the office.
Picture the scene.
It is a cold, wet, miserable, damp January morning in Gorgie. Gorgie, where the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery dominates the skyline. To be fair, cold, wet, miserable and damp could be a morning in Gorgie in July, never mind January…
But a year ago, Mr Wilson had come through the doors for the first time as an employee, having been in the nursery as a precocious child for years.
Now he was making a massive contribution to the success of the institution that had nurtured him.
It was a welcome change as his fellow team members, the staff had struggled to bring any form of cheer to The Budge.
As Mr Wilson walked up the stairs towards the office hanging over the top of the ball pool he reflected on the last year and just exactly how much he had risen from being a humble debutante but a year ago but through a quick, crazy and mad 12 months was now being stopped in the street and asked for selfies by young mothers bringing their children into the nursery. To be fair almost every year in the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery could be described as crazy and mad…
Now he wondered has this become his future?
He was feeling good in the glow of a particularly good afternoon in the other part of the city, the Athens of the North, the one which few people in the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery mention out loud, in Leith. In part due to the rivalry that has built up between that not so dear green place and the Gorgie edifice in which he stood, Mr Wilson had proven himself a worthy maroon clad fighter for the cause. On return from the contest his name had been writ large as the saviour, the hero. Four times a year they would face their rivals in a Gladiators style contest. The last time Mr. Wilson had won their day as the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery walked away triumphant thanks to Mr Wilson’s involvement.
At the top of the stairs Mr Wilson turned and looked round and saw his past. He turned to the door and realised that this might well actually be his future.
A sharp knock at the door, the handle turned, his entrance smooth. He walked confidently towards the chair left open for him to sit upon. Mr Critchley looked at him with glee and pride. The Budge had a more calculating view of the young star in front of her.
Mr Critchley smiled, the smile of a benevolent father whose son had just done something good.
Mr Wilson smiled, the smile of a young naive young man looking forward to making his way in the world.
The Budge smirked.
She opened the file in front of her and turned the page.
The valuation of Mr Wilson was at the top, underneath the offers that were slowly coming in to offer to take on this young man from the nursery.
She knew that Mr Wilson was a man that could go on to greater things, but more importantly provide the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery with its next success, kudos, cement its reputation but hopefully see Mr Wilson performing well beyond the boundaries of Scotland, well beyond the boundaries of the Tynecastle Tiny Tots Nursery, for that was what Mr Wilson’s worth was going to be to The Budge.
Looking up at the two of them The Budge was about to deliver the terrible news that Mr Critchley may well enjoy the company of Mr Wilson for some time, but it was going to be a lot shorter than he had thought because she could see the pride in Mr. Critchley’s eyes but also saw the commodity that sat opposite him.
Whilst the author asserts his right to this as an original piece of work there is no evidence, unless you know differently that Ann Budge has ever met or decided the fate of young James Wilson, so this is clearly a work of fiction.
The fact is that 17-year-old James Wilson has burst on the Hearts scene over the last year. The young Balerno High School pupil is being stopped in the street for selfies and made his debut a year ago. He says it has been a year which ahs been quick, crazy and mad, but the finances of Scottish fitba dictate…
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Tags: Hearts, oor Donald, Scottish fans, Scottish football