Carradale

[Bochan Mor]

well in all truth bochan the gigglin pin broke off the galavantin shaft lettin water into the toolbox which of course meant the main cog o the enchine was away.
ach the sky's away to the west.
hooiniver she can be rebuilt, huv ye any spare ruvits aboot ye?
ye we're boastin aboot bein rivetin the other day onywye?

do you know a wummin called morag from morrar?
she has a website called egos'r'us?
seems she helps build confidence and things (i prefer firewood stacks myself, much more practical) anyway i think she sells tup...toopes.......wigs.
she was advertisin for old stack rope for somthin and as i had a wee bag or two o it i thought id give her a call and see if i could turn a wee profit.

clach air, bochan

Somebody was just saying the other day that you'd managed to grow two peas in yer back garden. How were they, did you get them both, or did Mrs Morenish get her fair share?

I wasn't expecting to see you on here this week. Not because of your transmission problems, but I'd heard that you'd gone wae the young crofters to Poland. The poor Poles won't know what's hit them. This must be the first time folk have crossed from Scotland to the Balkan states looking for work. Just wait till they realise that the weekly rate of pay is less than the value of the erse of a post-Cruhban pocket on a Saturday morning.

Hopefully the odd one was wise enough to buy his return ticket at this end, as a month's work over there won't even pay the £1 fair home, never mind the tax. Par for the course, there's bound to be one that falls in love and tries to return to the village wae his trophy wife, but he'd be well advised to leave her over there and visit once a month. Anyway, it's time I thought about getting the car loaded and ready for the off, as it's a rolling stone that gathers up dross...

[morenish]

och more untruths bochan, i never left the place, but i did let them have the fermhoose at a fair rent, it's lyin empty anyway as it came wi the 1000 hectares i rent from the polish gov.
500 of which was in peas bound for the supermarkets of europe, it's easier growin peas oot there sepa cant charge you for your own water oot there!

snoddy see that bill, dinna bother writin it on paper it'll jeest be a waste o pen, as i still have cards in the other names you sold me last year, remember?
you bein a good tory and fond of free enterprise etc.
an the only reason that gins called plymouth gin is because thats where you had the old dormobile parked up at the time, the wan wi the wee still built into what used to be a shower cubicle.

an as for the warnin aboot feeding tups viagra, it fairly stops yon walking public tryin to excercise thier right to roam across ma grun, well all except yon p**fy englishman in a kilt anyway

[Bochan Mor]

och more untruths bochan,.............. an the only reason that gins called plymouth gin is because thats where you had the old dormobile parked up at the time, the wan wi the wee still built into what used to be a shower cubicle.

Was there naw a time when you had a dorm in some old mobile that you used to trundle around in? Word has it that it was like a mobile brewery on the way down to the Ros of Mull, and not much better on the way back up.

The locals in Bunessan thought that it was a Customs and Excise van under cover, until they realised that the fancy stubby ariels on the roof were infact a pair of stilleto heels that had penetrated the roof skin of the Dagenham built utility vehicle.

Be careful with what you say about any disreputable deals that you had with the good doctor, as you may compromise his chances of getting a gong at New Year. Anyway, it's time that I got off to bed, as I have to make the most of the chances that I have to lie in my own.

I'll bid you good night.

PS. Morag from Morar was asking for you. She said that she reckoned that you were a fine figure of a man..... Don't worry, I've put her right on that old chestnut

Clach Air... Morenish

[Right Pongal]

Well Bochan, did you get caught out by Morenish at Halloween. That's two years in a row that he's sneaked into my hoose wae the wee fellas, and I didn't even notice. I wasn't the only one.... Apparently he was in almost 20 homes, and nobody recognised him, not even Mrs Morenish, who was baby sitting in one of the fun palaces that he visited.

This was the best yet from our cunning friend. The rascal tied a fresh bit of baler twine around his sizeable girth, and without a scrap of make up or anything else, marched into the hooses holding a hoe.

Talk about out of context. Who would have thought that the man weilding the implement was our Morenish. With hindsight, you would have thought that Mrs Morenish would have recognised the hoe that's normally melted into the grip of her hand.

His sword dancing was impeccable, and I have to say that it's the first time that I've seen those big plates of meat in the flesh. He's obviously been sleeping soundly in his bare feet at thon big range of his. He hadn't realised that the kids had painted his toe nails in Morton colours. Well I think it was the kids...

[Bochan Mor]

Yes, he was here as well, and only by sheer luck did I discover his identity.

It being a cold kinda night, I had a right breezer going in the grate. Morenish came in wae the young fellas and gave a rendition of his version of sword (Hoe) dancing, and damn good he was too. Well by the time he was feenished, the sweat was lashing off him, even trickling doon the leg of his bib and brace and down onto his bare feet.

I still hadn't tumbled to him, but when I offered him a refreshment (thinking of cream soda or the likes) the cheeky beggar asked for a gless of 'Old Mull'.

I poured him a right bumper, an absolute erse cracker in fact (Do you mind Big Bob used to take them) and then an other. The combination of the heat from the grate and the inner heat from the demon that he'd jeest swallowed, had him sleeping like a baby in no time.

Ach now, you've probably guessed the rest: Those big clod-hoppers were stretched out in front of him, so I wen't hunting for nail varnish and set the other young fellas to work.

Morenish came too half an hour later as if nothing had happened, lifted his faithful hoe and headed out into the darkness.......


Twinkle Toes was never in it!

[Bobbie En Tejas]

Morenish does dances with his hoe? Sounds like the happy hoer.

[Sanyanya]

I could have sworn that I saw Mr Morenish out and about with Mr Bochan at Halloween. Indeed, I would even go as far as to suggest that the pot was having a fairly respectable attempt at calling the kettle black with regard to the fondness for the water of life. Did I not see the unlikely pairing attempting cartwheels through Pongal's pristine hedge. Mr Morenish had confiscated a cheese-cutter hat from the local 'Chav' and had perched it on the edge of his own, by now fevered brow.

With neither of them being classed even close to 'Bantam Weight', it looks like it could take a number of years for the hedge to regain it's finest form. Although I never witnessed the sword dancing, I can state without a shadow of a doubt that good old Morenish is indeed extremely nimble on his toes when the mood takes him. Perhaps, like me, he normally wears somebody else's shoes, which certainly hampers the pace when you are marching to the midden.

As to be expected, both of our local heroes dropped their ill-gotten gains at the side of the road, making me anticipate that I had won a watch. As it turned out, they had a bunch of blackened bananas, 3 crab apples and host of mixed net shells lying in a marinade of pale ale and crushed tangerine juice.

I would have had more luck raiding the Chav's bag.... methinks!

[Snoddy]

snoddy see that bill, dinna bother writin it on paper it'll jeest be a waste o pen, as i still have cards in the other names you sold me last year, remember?
you bein a good tory and fond of free enterprise etc.
an the only reason that gins called plymouth gin is because thats where you had the old dormobile parked up at the time, the wan wi the wee still built into what used to be a shower cubicle.

an as for the warnin aboot feeding tups viagra, it fairly stops yon walking public tryin to excercise thier right to roam across ma grun, well all except yon p**fy englishman in a kilt anyway

My lawyer will be issuing a categorical denial that I supplied you or anyone else with false documentation. If you look carefully at the alleged paperwork, you will notice that it is not endorsed with my usual signature, but some nom de plume dreamt up at the reception desk of the hotel that I resided at during the last Tory conference.

Despite all my good advice, I notice that you are still partaking of strong liquor. As I have explained before, your antiinflamitaries will pass through your system like something off a hot shovel if mixed with whisky. Anyway, I suppose Mrs Morenish will be happy enough that it is potent enough to knock a horse out.

[Bochan Mor]

That's some sleep that Morenish is having, his Halloween exploits must be telling on him terribly. Oh I just don't know what we're going to do with him. I suppose that he'll need to recharge his batteries now for New Year. Hopefully by then, somebody will have been brave enough to reach down and clean the nail vernish off his toes, as one things for sure, he certainly can't reach them!

[morenish]

yes i was sleeping, if you's must know.
what with a combination of changing clocks, cheap OBAN whiskey and a spot of dancing it fair took it oot me.
as to the nail varnish i had been wearing it for weeks bochan, it was recomended by my GP for an in growing toenail he said paint it with this its an extrovert colour???
i'm not sure i trust him now especially when i here he's been attending the confereces again, aye there was me thinking we'd got them all too maybe they will open the season on them again after may?

suas alba

[Bochan Mor]

There was never any doubt in my mind that you were sound asleep Morenish, because lets face it, you’re damn nearly, never any other way. As for the cheap Oban whisky, I would say: 'Not at all', as its not in your genetic fingerprint to be buying anything that's cheap, never mind scoffing it.

The weather thing was a big disappointment to me though. All these years I've wondered how you were predicting the weather ahead of the fermer's forecast on Sunday's BBC. I was thinking that you were maybe examining seaweed at Port na Sgadan, or even just feeling it in your well worn joints. However, it turns out that you know as much about the weather as my arse knows about snipe shooting.

Yes folks, Morenish's legendry weather forecasting skills are nothing but a sham. It turns out that he subscribes to some newsgroup in Manitoba, calculating and hence predicting, with what has seemed like some level of authority and accuracy, the shape of things to come over here.

Well his face was fair skelping the other night, deciding to dampen down the in-house brazier for a few hours to attend the annual bonfire. He was spotted going roond the doors with his tractor and trailer in an effort to gather some pruch for the fire. Nonetheless, not all of it was deemed suitable by the firemaster, so a well used matress found its way back to the garden shed at the rear of Morenish's estate. Not more than 1 hour and 8 minutes later, there was a sign up in the baker's window, inviting candidates for the following position.

Estate Handyman: Live in Position

Salary: negotiable, depending on experience (but for goodness sake remember that accommodation is provided).
Must be willing to work un-supervised and using own initiative.
Candidates with experience on chainsaw and lawnmower preferable,
But hard workers willing to put up with a moderate level of abuse will not be overlooked.
This newly created position offers a number of fringe benefits, including free milk, potatoes, socks (from somebody else's washing line) and the chance of extensive travel, most of which cannot be traced by the tax man......... Yet!

Well damn me, around two days later, here's Morenish at Sunadale with the tractor, and Sanyanya tangled up amongst the hazels, gathering nuts like there was no tomorrow. Apparently they have advertised them on ebay, vending them by the jeely jar, in an un-shelled condition.

So that's Sanyanya settled down for the winter in Morenish's draughty shed, or so it may seem. He's actually softening him up for the next move. He's been told that if everything works out and the recently vacated spare room in the main residence is not repopulated by the previous incumbent, then Sanyanya may be promoted to the inner sanctum, where he can revel in the delights of making the sandwiches at lunch time and shoe horning on the Lairds boots.

In the meantime, the poor soul is sleeping in the un-insulated shed, on a mattress which is lying in damn near a parabolic shape, with his head a good three feet above his plates of meat. Well talking of shapes, you should see his contorted figure as he emerges from the shed in the morning. Just wait till the frosts start in earnest!

[morenish]

now bochan ,with you being one of those retired from the fishing i though you'd know that information is money, so there is no way in hell i'm telling you how i know whether to put on my wellies or good brogues in the morning, and i don't need sanyana with his shoe horn to get them on either!
in fact the last one he whittled from an old ewes horn was sold to one of your siblings for retrieving your wallet from your back pocket, never an easy task!

as for the story of getting weather forcasts from manitoba, it is far more believable than "if you catch 2 gleshans the same colour off the point before the 13th of september then we'll have a bad winter"!?!?
well that one might work with those of a southern persuasion, i prefer much more scientific methods ie: infra red mapping of the oceans, sea surface tempreture index, and satelite photography, topped off with an ogle at heather the weather.

now when your up at the bakers next put on yer glasses an read the advert properly it does not say work useing own initiative, and experience of chainsaw and lawnmower,
what it actually says is candidate must have own chainsaw and lawnmower and be able to work on my initiative!

now while you'r post was full of fun and carradale banter (well thats the way i took it) i find it very unaceptable to be accused of providing free milk and potatoes, thats just not funny and i call on the un-honerable member to withdraw that remark!
where's the moderators now when i'm being slanderd in this way!

with your cooking, your ar$e might not know how to shoot snipe but it can fair knock the seagulls off the black roof

[Snoddy]

Mr Morenish,

I am delighted to learn that you have obviously practiced what I preached regarding exercising yourself into your own shoes. Slip on shoes were never becoming with your own slant on modern attire.

I didn't believe for one minute that your were providing your own family, never mind Sanyanya, with potatoes or purvey of any other sort. Indeed, why should you even consider it your burden.

Lady Snoddy and I were great believers in making the offspring stand on their own two feet. Unfortunately with the substances being banded around as recreational being of interest to one of mine in particular, he had a job standing full stop.

Weather forecasting was never a strong point for me and I often found myself like Dr Foster, in a shower of rain. Yes before you ask, I often stepped in the puddle right up to my muddle, but now thankfully never have to go near there again.

I was also particularly pleased to witness the merry making in the Glen last night, taking a fresh twist. Many of the revellers purchased indigestion and hangover remedies the day before, allowing me to have an unbroken sleep. Hopefully the event passed off without any major injuries. It is a travesty that this team has more injuries off the park than on, and usually inflicted on each other by each other.

I did note a letter in the West Highland Free Press this week from a Free Church minister that should be taken into consideration in this village. Apparently the Free Church still takes a dim view of dancing at weddings, especially if the dancing has even the slightest hint of eroticism. I feel certain that Mr Morenish will join me in condemning activities of any nature that may lead to debauchery.

[morenish]

absolutely

[Hugs Thistles]

Achs, buts, and holiest watter! You can never get a good goat when ye need one, but short term, here's a sight or two for your jollification perhaps if I can remember how to get the blasted thing to work. Oh now there it is.





HT