Carradale

[Right Pongal]

Here's the chentleman in question.

I thought that was Anthony Watkins, with the pipe.

Plant Feather, grow Hen!!!!

I'll need to check that you've not been re-writing history over on the Goatweb!!

[general jack o'niell]

its years since i last heard that

plant feather, grow hen

priceless!!!!!

[Humphlock]

Aye, ma phota wiz too wee. Sorry aboot that, folks. He was more like Tom Thumb than Tom the Blower. I'm still learnin. No bad for a wee humphlock's first attempt though?

Beachcomber, I can see why you might think that the man with the pipe was Watkins because he looks different from the local men. Watkins was a younger man and was always accompanied by his bull terrier, Jeff.

By the way - no that we were thinkin of doin it, but we'd better be sure and no miscall Tom on here because I see his grandson has signed the Goat's visitors' book the deh. How's that for a coeencidence? I wonder if he knows that he wiz immortalized by Wal? Maybe he winna laik it.

I wiz wonderin if it wiz maybe time for another Wal poem? There's a wee shoart (relatively speaking!) wan called the Bachelor's Lament. I'll gie ye it tomorrow night. It'll get yiz goin.

[Bochan Mor]

Go for it Humphlock, I await wae Bochan Breath!

[Beachcomber]

I await wae Bochan Breath!

I believe Dr Snoddy can give you lozenges for that now, or is it a pessary?

[Snoddy]

I await wae Bochan Breath!

I believe Dr Snoddy can give you lozenges for that now, or is it a pessary?

Ahem!!

Now that I have your attention, I would suggest oil of peppermint, taken 3 times a day with a spash of Trawler Rum.

That's just for you Beachcomber, to ward off the Bochan, who could be breathing down your neck shortly!

[Humphlock]

As promised last night, here's another poem from Wal.

---------------------------------------------------------

Bachelor's Lament
Walter Paterson

The gloomy night is gathering fast
Chill blows the bleak December blast
Comes through the gloom the Bay's dull roar
Of waves, wild dashing, on the pebbly shore
My feathered workers to their perch retire
And I sit, lonely, by the cottage fire
Brooding on one mistake, now clearly seen
Brooding on what I am, and might have been.

Pity that man whom cruel fate
Dooms to the status celibate
For him, no blazing hearth does burn
In welcome, at his home return.

No children meet him at the gate
To glad his heart with childish prate
Or gather, joyeous, round his chair
To climb his knees, the kiss to share.
He hears no children's joyful noise
At play, amongst their favoured toys
Nor ever called, is he, to right
Some small dispute, some petty fight
Or wipe away the trickling tear
Engendered by some childish fear.
No bedtime prayer, for him alone
Is wafted to the heavenly throne
No wife stands, smiling, at the door
To greet him, when his work is o'er
Or bend a sympathetic ear
To share his joy, his hope, his fear.
With busy shears, his clothes to mend
Or to the household chores attend -
No wife, supreme in cooking art
With tempting dishes, charm his heart
Or smiling, share the evening fire
With busy, clicking knitting wire
Or, with the wiles, that women use
Recount the local spicy news.
No wife, in social hour to go
To trip the light fantastic toe
Or share with him, the social call
Or function, in the Village Hall
No wife, to keep him, snug and warm
When loudly blows the winter storm
When he, in sickness, lies supine
No wife, to scan the Doctor's line
Precluded from these scenes of life
Who took not to himself a wife.
Such is my fate, recounted here
Friend! spare a sympathetic tear.

But stay; not every man is blessed
Who finds himself with wife possessed
Fate worse than mine, his role in life
The trembling vassal, to the tyrant wife
Better an Anchorite to dwell
On some far mountain, in a lonely cell
In peace and happiness, his life persue
Than suffer torture, from a wifely Shrew.

--------------------------------------------------

Kinna poignant, that yin, eh? Is the trickling tear blinnin' any o yiz?
Maybe no efter the last verse.

[Beachcomber]

I await wae Bochan Breath!

I believe Dr Snoddy can give you lozenges for that now, or is it a pessary?

That's just for you Beachcomber, to ward off the Bochan, who could be breathing down your neck shortly!

Heheheheh! I've no doubt Bochan Mor is fully aware my comment was entirely in jest, but I shall be wearing my asbestos vest for the next few nights, just in case.

[Sanyanya]

Dear Humphlock, the tears are blinding me as my eyes fix aimlessly but un-focussedly on the remnants of the flickering logs in the fireplace. The poem was just sublime, ranging from cringing self pity to gradual acceptance, then relief, on the realisation that independance may have many merits.

Morenish is always saying to me that I should consider myself lucky that I answer to no one. I usually reply: 'Who's going to stoke the fire for me in my dotage?' and all the time thinking to myself, 'Who is going to borrow and chop the wood for Morenish when I am unable?'

Have you any photos of Wal himself? I can still remember when his gate was white..

[Bochan Mor]

Never the likes Humphlock, took my Bochan Breath away (N.B. No peppermint oil requied Snoddy). Was that not just very touching, for a while anyway. Thank god that your posting these on here, not only so that we can all read them, but so that the poems are published for posterity.

Hopefully there's more to follow!

Keep it chapping 'Wee Humphy'

[Dunc R]

Humphlock another great post, hope they will not lead to an RSI!!!!! all that typing

[cuach]

Anyone been to the "Gory Ghost Hole" recently ? It must be half a century since I was there. Some questions... Does it still exist? Who slid down it? Where was it? Clue- weans today are coddled.

[chuckiebay]

well cuach that is a name from the past but ah canna get ma mind round where it is. ah first thought it wis maybe doon the school wood where the cliff fell doon tae the burn but now a'm wonderin if it's near the old castle. maybe Humphlock knows.

I think wal's gate was silver painted wi Bayview set oot in pebbles from me in front of it. Surely somebody in the village has a picture o wal to put on here.

[Humphlock]

Niver heard it called the Glory hole or whitever it wis ye said, cuach, but I'm damn sure I know the place you mean - roon Balfadyen way? Grid reference 820380? Is that hit?

The only phota o Wal I've got is of him as a wee boy. I'll see if I can pit him in the bucket and get him oot again for yiz. I wid say his gate wis definitely a silvery colour. Canna mind the chuckies that chuckiebay mentions though.

[Humphlock]

Naow, yeez'll lay off that this is too wee again, but I coona get it any bigger or it would be hellish pixelated. None o yeez'll mind him at this age because yeez've naw been around as long as the wee Humphlock.