Carradale

[SARID]

Ian Bahn and his brother came tae Carradale in the late 1700's They came from "up the country" thought to be around Kilninver, sooth o' Oban. They were burned oot O' their hoose up there,---------- no record whither the fire was deliberate or accidental However looking at the record of some of his decendants, it winna surprise me if the fire wis started by some wan keen tae be rid o'them.
The brothers are the forebears of the Carradale Patersons. Ian Bahn decendants are the Kilbrannan Patersons and the Bayview Patersons. The Kilbrannan lot are still much in evidence, but the Bayview ones seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth! Where are they now? Anybody know??

[chuckiebay]

There are a lot mair descendants o' Ian Bhan than juist the Bayview an' Kilbrannan crowd. In fact i know of a young fla called Ian Bhan in honour of his ancestor an' his name is no' Paterson. That's the line ah get my information from. Mind there can be Paterson lassies as well.

The man who went tae Celyon was illegitimate and connected to a family in Kilberry. When Ian Bhan heard at the last meenit that the Kilberry millions were aboot to go to the Treasury he thought he would put in a claim and so he had the mad dive tae Inveraray. Ah don't know whit the substance o' the claim wis but it wis all to no avail. He was indeed a great athlete and ah'm jeest surprised that so far no descendant has stood on the rostrum at the Olympic Games holdin' up a gold medal. Maybe in time to come but ah doot the genes have been diluted. If anybudy knows o' wan wi a talent of the athletic kind let us know and we will all celebrate it.

Anywiy enjoy the end o' the story. (D'ye think he wid be allowed tae huv a kilt at that time in Scotland?)

[spangles]

Not to intrude on the present theme but just a short newsflash. Witchnettle your cuddle and ceilidh are getting closer. The caboodle is on it's way up. Himself and the Tayinloan fla were hard at it the day. It's going to be something to write home about. A part of history so to speak.

Who needs the SECC when we're going to have our very own CCCC. Carradales Ceilidh and Cuddle Caboodle.

C'mon JD get the wee brownie oot. This is history in the making

S

[Humphlock]

Sorry a'm a wee bit later with the bulletin the night. A've jist been readin the posts from SARID and chuckiebay - it's great the information yeez haive - ah'm jaloozin at least wan o yeez must be related to the femily in question?

Anyway, withoot further ado, we'll join Ian goin along Loch Fyne-side.

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

What pleasing visions rose before his eyes
As onwards, quickly, on his way he flies
What thoughts of fortune did his mind obsess
These unrecorded, we can only guess
Perchance, Pagodas, he in vision sees
In sacred groves, beneath Palmetto trees
And he, attired in eastern mode
Servant to Buddha, in his grand abode
Or as a Sultan rich may have been shown
On Dias seated, on a golden throne
Or as a Chief, amid the native throng
His Kilt discarded for a gay Serong
Or great Mahomed, in Paradise, who dwells
Whispered of Harems, and of dusky belles
Or trim tea gardens, fluttering in the breeze
Before his eyes in phantasy, he sees
Or gold or silver, buried in Ceylon
Has been the lure that kept his running on.

Mile after mile, he races on
His frame was tough, his heart was strong
Borne onwards, by his latent power
He views at last the Ducal tower
The town clock strikes the hour of two
The Ducal belfry swears 'tis true
The sentry eyes, with frightened scan
The rapidly approaching man
He quickly sounds the war alarms
And calls the garrison to arms
These warlike preparations took
Lest harm behall his Grace, the Duke
The bounding figure nears the wall
And heeds the Sentry's strident call
With arms upraised, his motions cease
As proof that he has come in peace
His Gaelic greetings upward soar
Hail, to the great Maccailen Mor.

On to the Court, his claim to sign
For fortune great, on dotted line
The Lawyer shark, in jovial mood
Assures him that his claim is good
That legal eye in the future sees
A rich reward in swollen fees
His mission o'er, a meal he takes
Of Barley scones and mealy cakes
With copious draughts of bree, at length
Regains in full his waneing strength
A short respite, and then once more
He treads the path he trod before.

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

I'll leave the return journey for tomorra night.

[Bitter End]

Whit a tale Humphlock ! aye an Wal kent the lawyers jist fine .
The return journey is much awaited
as aal thets bin rittin is much appreciated

Och thers somthin droll goin on here

[witchnettle]

dear spangles,
thanks for the update on the caboodle,
but i have to clear something up, i'm wanting a bit of a ceilidh dance and a wee glass of wine to be sure, but i have never mentioned a cuddle and him indoors (but also across the road or up the hill somewhere- if you know who i am you will know what i mean) is very concerned about this cuddle malarky, and nearly threatened to take back my valentine pressies (which was going to be uncomfortable considering one of them was a box of chocolates!!! )
so for the sake of my poor wee heart please refrain from mentioning cuddles and my name in the same sentence in future.
thank you x
anyone know when the opening night of the caboodle is to be? i hear there is a big pole in the middle of it, which had me and mrs morenish giggling yesterday, i've got out my special dancing dress to air, in preparation for the big night, just need to find the appropriate dead insects, plants, mud etc to get my glow in the dark makeup bubbling in the cauldron, (this needs a couple of days brewing) and then we will be ready to go.
x

[SARID]

Keep meenin tae say , good photo o' Wal, Chuckie. You must know somebody
wi access tae the Bayview Archives.
Now, Humphlock, as you well know, jeest aboot everybody in Carradale is related----- maybe even you and me, you jeest niver know !!!
Efter Wal's interest in sculpture waned, he made himsel a wag--at--wa' clock. The face was made from an old jeely pan bottom As he niver had a wireless, he had a wild job visiting relatives tae get the wan o'clock pips to make sure the clock wis keeping the right time

[Humphlock]

I'm earlier on the go the night. We rejoin Ian jist as he's leaving Inveraray. Will he get back to Carradale, as he vowed, within twenty-four hours?

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And now Loch Fyne's cool breezes fan
The hot cheeks of the running man
The sinking sun, with lessening ray
Bespeaks the closing of the day
Through twilight hour, twix light and dark
He steers by some familiar mark
But soon the Moon's bright silvery light
Dispells the darkness of the night
This lunar aid his strength renews
He, faster still, his way persues.

Natives in villages and farms
With memories green of war alarms
In terror hear his running feet
With bolt and bar make safe retreat
Then, from the windows, eager scan
But scarce can tell if beast or man
By lonely cot, his footstep goes
The inmates wrapped in sweet repose
Each rustic slave, in sleep profound
Forgets his dreary mortal round
By foaming burn, by rippling rill
By paths on moor and heather hill
By fertile glen, by stoney brae
He presses on his homeward way
The lunar orb, at greatest height
Illumes his path in radiant light
His feet now trace familiar ground
His eyes behold Kilbrannan Sound.

With swelling heart and joyful smile
He runs the last remaining mile
From Grianan hill views with delight
His native village, bathed in light
Home, as he vowed, before the sun
Her great diurnal course had run
A reel he steps, all cares forgot
Then quietly seeks his humble Cot.

Now, Children, hide the sceptic smiles
T'was but a paltry eighty miles
This tale, my children, was told to me
When a little lad at my Grandad's knee
And you, in honour, will pass it on
To the younger set, when your Grandad's gone
As a chain of remembrance, to him who ran
Our fleet-footed kinsman - Ian Bahn.

Thus, we can keep his memory green
Perpetuate his fame
And Children, yet unborn, may learn
To lisp his honoured name.

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[morenish]

thanks again humphlock, i do like rhyming poetry especially when it tells a tale.
an reminds me of "bree" wan of the best thirst quenching drinks you can take on a hot summers day!
far better by far than anything provided by science nowadays.
it was always available at the fank when i was young, for the refreshment of the clippers, nobody seemed to bother too much about the poor soul that was crogging to them!

now bochan its no often im right but im wrong again, angus macdonald was the painter, iain was the man i knew, me bein only a young fla.
but my old fla got it in a present from somebody that knew somebody with "connections" to the area.

i was speakin to a wummin who lives next door to you and she was wonderin if you'd like to contribute to her next electricity bill seein as how she needs the light on all day now.
i heard gerry swearing most eloquently on the sabath too, when he was trying to get the starcase to match up, how many steps is it?
can you see campbeltown from the roof?
has trumptons finest got a ladder that hight if theres an emergency?
can you get insurance for terrorist attack on something that hight nowadays?
ach when you think of the wee low hoosie iain bhán would have had.....................................

[Bochan Mor]

Aye Morenish, your right, its not often you are right, but you're just the man I was thinking of. I'm needing an extra door for a fire escape and somebody reminded me that your shed was awash with doors, I don't suppose you've got a couple of 'Spare' ones.

As for the woman next door telling you that she was lacking in light, I have it in good authority that she was plagued with radiation coming through her walls from the furnace further along the road. She says that she doesn't mind hot water, but when that's all that will come out the cold taps, its a poor show!

You need to close the draught off a bit and decrease the insertion rate of the combustables before the metal frames of the whole Cruden Row buckle out of shape!

[Bochan Mor]

dear spangles,
thanks for the update on the caboodle,
but i have to clear something up, i'm wanting a bit of a ceilidh dance and a wee glass of wine to be sure, but i have never mentioned a cuddle and him indoors (but also across the road or up the hill somewhere- if you know who i am you will know what i mean) is very concerned about this cuddle malarky, and nearly threatened to take back my valentine pressies (which was going to be uncomfortable considering one of them was a box of chocolates!!! )
so for the sake of my poor wee heart please refrain from mentioning cuddles and my name in the same sentence in future.
thank you x
anyone know when the opening night of the caboodle is to be? i hear there is a big pole in the middle of it, which had me and mrs morenish giggling yesterday, i've got out my special dancing dress to air, in preparation for the big night, just need to find the appropriate dead insects, plants, mud etc to get my glow in the dark makeup bubbling in the cauldron, (this needs a couple of days brewing) and then we will be ready to go.
x

Witchnettle, there is no need to wait on any caboodle being finished. Besides it is going to be a haven to be accessed by invitation only and these invitaions will be like 'the feathers'.

However, I have it on good authority that your postman is up for a bit of pole dancing out on your back green. He confided in me that he wouldn't mind seeing you throwing yourself round the clothes poles in your back garden (Is that not right Spangles?). Morenish can dig out some of Sanyanya's homebrew and an instant ceilidh will ensue.

Anyway, enough of those frivolities, anymore yarns from Humphlock, SARID or Chuckie Bay. Malky should be selling advertising for this thread, the rate it is being viewed at.

The Courier and Antler better watch out! If 'Wee Athur' could create this, he would bottle it!!!!!

[Humphlock]

Well, it's no so much yarns as an old old phota o whit must hiv been the Carradale football team at wan time. I came on it when I wiz lookin to see if I could find wan o Wal and them. This is wan for the old fl'as but maybe some o yeez'll recognise yer grampas or great grampas. I think I can put a name on everybody except the fellas in collars and ties at either end. Any idea of a date on this yin?

[chuckiebay]

Cood the fella front left be a young Dunnis Tosh and maybe back right nixt tae collar an'tie be a Galbraith and he cood maybe have a bruther in the team. Ah doot ye'll hae tae help us oot Humph ma sowel.

[general jack o'niell]

no idea when it was taken but that could be my young brother (no, not sweltered, the other one) in the front row, keeping my posts short in case i slip into a local dialect, bitter end got me into trouble on another forum already today for using the word wid instead of would and hale coontin instead whole that would not count. see these bloody east coast lot, its probably revenge for me making a reference to "are you seekin a pint" when mentioning a certain hopeman seiner.

[SARID]

Reading aboot the Skipness dancing, fair pit me in the notion fur a wee "getthegither " in ma hoose, up Airds Wid, naw far from Dan's Midden ( all contributers to "chit chat " welcome ) However, A think A'll leave it till the nights are clear---- am no wanting any o' yooz gettin entangled wi brambles at the Caff Hole if ye go off the path coming up from Airds in the dark. Did yeez know that the right name is the " Chaff Hole"--its where the chaff wis emptied from the mattresses wance a year, and then restuffed wi fresh stuff.
We could start wi a game o' 500. Ah canna mind the rules, but Chuckie seems tomind and am sure will be happy tae instruct us in the finer points o' the game
Efter that A'll arrange fur a wee purvey to be sent up from the Bakers, and wance thats demolished, the settee etc can be pushed back, and the dancin commence ( av a fine big livin room )
However in view o' ma age (not in the first flush, but not yet over the hill ) am no that keen on Eightsome Reels or Strip the Willow. Something more sedate suits me, lake The St Bernards Waltz At times al jist have tae sit oot.
There is bound to be a singer amungst us, and we could feenish off the evening wi a rendition o' Carradale Glen. A bet their wont be a dry eye in the hoose