Right Pongal wrote:
Who's this that's been creeping about the back of the Heritage Centre, drinking from an old clam shell?
He certainly wasn't shy. Mrs Pongal was fearing it that it was some strain of Super Bochan. You know those ones that when you chop a limb off, another two grows.
I tried following him into the rhodies and came across a blanket and an old tarpaulin and a hell of a stash of empty absynth bottles, Nescafe jars and pulped coffee mate boxes.
What's going on?
I'm certainly damned if I know. Has anyone else seen this, as it certainly doesn't appear every day?
That's naw a bochan at all. He's got the wrong colour of eyes and far too short in the leg.
Anyway, here we are at Hogmanay again, expecting the usual procession of foolish crofters over the threshold in the next 48 hours.
Morenish was nearly clapped in irons by the firemaster last year after his fire eating performance in here. I had poured him a bumper from the Springbank bottle and he sharked it to the back of his thrapple, only to discover that it was some of Witchnettle's vintage sloe gin.
Well it was fully atomised by the time it hit the blazing fire, almost setting the lum on fire.
Talking of irons, was that Mrs Morenish heading into Witchnettle's emporium with a suitcase of crushed boilersuits and string vests?
Anyway, I'm locking the door around 10pm tonight, and won't be re-opening it until the 8th of January!