Carradale

[SARID]

Yir becomin a bit o' a "hoolet " Chuckiebay----- why can ye no sleep lake uther folk ? Ah hope yir na suffering wae a guilty conscience aboot something or uther!
Anyway i've at last got roond tae consulting the Ordinance Survey Map wi regard tae yir guery aboot the hillock nixt door tae Tor Mhor. OS calls it "Cnoc nan Gabhar" ( has the Trig Point oan it ) A don't mind bein called anything masel
Nixt yir query about the name o' the picnic area up the Glen. Yir quite right, it should be called" Kirnashee" ",na Grianain" The misnomer his annoyed me for years, and a wis threatening tae"reach" the Forrestry Commision on more than wan occasion, but niver got round tae it. A might pit a petition yet in the Bakers fur folk tae sign , an then send it on tae the heedquarters in Edinburgh
Now a warning, wance the new rod signs are "up and running" a have it on good authority that ther's tae be a right crackdoon on speeding----- no fines------ straight tae the jail. Carradil could very easily become a Ghost Village in a metter o'days. So take heed. A've heard there's even talk o' policemen disguised as bushes wae zappers in thur hans
Take care folks --especially ma many sacond an third cussins

[jdcarra]

Yir becomin a bit o' a "hoolet " Chuckiebay----- why can ye no sleep lake uther folk ? Ah hope yir na suffering wae a guilty conscience aboot something or uther!
Anyway i've at last got roond tae consulting the Ordinance Survey Map wi regard tae yir guery aboot the hillock nixt door tae Tor Mhor. OS calls it "Cnoc nan Gabhar" ( has the Trig Point oan it ) A don't mind bein called anything masel
Nixt yir query about the name o' the picnic area up the Glen. Yir quite right, it should be called" Kirnashee" ",na Grianain" The misnomer his annoyed me for years, and a wis threatening tae"reach" the Forrestry Commision on more than wan occasion, but niver got round tae it. A might pit a petition yet in the Bakers fur folk tae sign , an then send it on tae the heedquarters in Edinburgh

Sarid, a bit more description for Chuckiebay, your trig point on Cnoc nan Gabhar, Grid ref NR802396 part of the Deer Hill walk. Photo courtesy of my friend Steve Partridge.



The picnic area at Kirnashie NR 795413. Its actually in between Kirnashie Hill and Kirnashie Wood, more part of Carnation Wood which is to the left as you look from the main road, but alas we call it Kirnashie and what a lovely place to stop for a picnic .

[chuckiebay]

Ah'm gled ah'm right aboot sumthin but ah still think Croc dhone must be up there sumwher. santa claus used tae fly directly o'er it on'is wiy tae torrisd'le before headin' back tae oor hoose wi hes goodies. Can yez naw ask sum o' the ancients before they're subjected tae Carridle Glen the dirge vershun?

Ah wush yez wid stop menshoning that Deer Hill. It's enythin but dear tae me. It jeest sounds a prissy name fur an English Hill. Ah bet Humphlock agrees wi me. Maybe Sarid hid the rite idea o' reaching the folk in Edinbra. Shoorly we're naw gonny gie up oor wee bit heritage wi'oot even a token geschur.

Ah'm off tae bed erly thi nite fur ah've been playin' fitba a' efternoon an ah'm dun.

[Humphlock]

Ah wush yez wid stop menshoning that Deer Hill. It's enythin but dear tae me. It jeest sounds a prissy name fur an English Hill. Ah bet Humphlock agrees wi me.

Aye, chuckiebay, it's me that's allergic to this denged "Deer Hill" too. Sure Cnoc nan Gabhar means the Hill of the Goat so how the divil could they no haive called it that?

Ah'm fair enjoyin readin all yer yarns from the last couple of weeks. Ah mind fine o Hughie Sticks and Clockie and them - embdy else mind o' Tobermory Jock? He wiz a chentleman o' the rod an' he used to frighten the life oot o me as a wee fla.

Anyway, the muse wiz upon me for a while there and ah kinna went intae hibernation, but ah've finally finished ma poem aboot the Torrisdale Toads. It's jeest kinna doggerel and it gets dafter as it goes on. It's too long tae pit on here in the wan go, though. Ah'll stert it the night and then pit a wee bit more on tomorra.

Here goes with the first ten verses:

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

"The Torrisdale toads came over the road to see the puddocks dancing"

So goes the rhyme that you might have heard
At yer granny's knee,
But if you would like to find oot a bit more,
Then listen closely to me.

The Torrisdale toad population decreases
By half, as all o' the males o' the species
Gether together from far and from near,
On a particular night in the spring o' the year.

From Lepincorrach and the heid o' the Glen,
From Lepinbeg and Sooth Dippen,
They embark on a journey, come rain, snow or hail,
To visit the puddocks of Carradale.

There is wan year the toads of today still can mind,
It has entered the annals of amphibian-kind.
So if ye'll allow me the tale to recite,
Ye'll find oot exactly whit heppened that night.

There were young blades and bodachs and wee fellas too,
Each in his best Sunday kilt or trews,
In command wis the toad who had them all scared,
Tam McToad-Hall, the wee Toad Laird.

A bumptious wee character, in full highland get-up
For a ceilidh he was very well set-up,
Under one oxter were his dancing shoes,
He had a ukelele with him too.

He marshalled them all roond Torrisdale Square,
Lecturing them till they all were aware
That puddocks are pongal, and how they should dance,
Then on to the highway he let them advance.

The racket they made wis jeest like thunder,
As they blethered and yarned goin' along the road.
They must have numbered aboot a hunder,
Oh, a great night oot if ye were a toad.

They were screchin' and croakin', some craturs were boakin',
So foonert were they at the top o' the brae,
But they dived in a dub, for a sploonge and a soakin',
And then cerried on upon their way.

Jeest like linties, they were skippin',
As doon they came to the bridge at Dippen.
But they never crossed over the watter yit,
For they turned doon the road to Watterfit.

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

With apologies to David Attenborough (no' that he wid understand the half o' it)

Ah'm afraid there's forty-odd more verses laik that tae go. Ah'll put another ten or so on tomorra.

[SARID]

Enjoyed "Torrisdale Toads " an look forward tae the next instalment. Watch yersel an no overdo it wi the RSI,as am no wantin tae see ye drivin in the village wi yir erm in a sling, Humphlock.
Great photos J D Carra! The one at the "Trig Point" was right atmospheric, looking doon tae a kinda dreich quay, and ower tae Arran. There wis a nice wee bit o' sun at Kirnashie.
Now then Chuckiebay,Ave had the OS map oot again. A've discovered "Croc Donn " ( wi variations in spelling ) is a common name fir a hill. The first yin is nixt door tae Beinnan Turc above Torrisdil.
Then a spotted anither wan directly above Grogport. There no mention o' anything called anything lake "Croc Donn " roond aboot "Tor Mhor "
Kirnashie Wid starts opposite the Kilmichael rodend, and turns intae the Coronation Wid at the Kirnashie Picnic area ( thats whit am callin it from now on ) The wid goes all the way along the rod, and dips doon towards the shore, and feenishes jeest above the Old Manse at Grogport. Kirnashie Hill is in the Coronation Wid North o' the aforementioned picnic area.
Talkin aboot changin place names brings tae ma mind the Mains Rod (as it wis when a wis wee ) runnin from the Hall tae Portrigh. Its now named in honour o' Naomi. No disrespect
tae her, but a much prefer the old traditional names.

[Humphlock]

Here's the second instalment of the Ballad of the Torrisdale Toads. We left them turnin doon the Waterfitt rod.

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

Past the Knowe, the abode o' the Semples,
They were headed for wan o' their favourite temples.
Ye should have heard their delighted groans,
As they skited aboot on the stepping stones.

In silence they tiptoed past the kennels,
Because toads are hellish frightened from doags.
A wild sarach then, though accidental,
The ghillie squashed two o' them under his brogues.

In a nice wee service, conducted at speed,
The toad padre spoke very well o' the deid.
How they were held in such high regard,
Then they buried them in the doags' graveyard.

The ghost rock held no fear for oor freens,
Well, maybe the odd wan gave a wee breenge,
As they hopped through the gate they call the Chains,
And paid their respects to the pigs at the Mains.

There wis a good breeze o' wind, so then they all,
Stopped to listen to the sugh o the bay,
But there must have been something on in the hall,
So they moved on quick to keep oot o' the way.

The toads were terrible bothered wi' midges,
But worse than that wis suddenly at stake.
Jeest as they came to the Wee Bridges,
Along came the Mitchisons' shooting-break.

A Dhia, Dhia, they were surely doomed,
Under its tyres to be splattered.
Then “Scatter tae bleezes!” the Toad Laird boomed,
And they all lowped the dyke into the watter.

Up Burma Road, to settle their nerves,
They stopped for a snack, a rare delicacy.
The wee Laird himself went around and served,
Cock-a-bendies from the monkey-puzzle tree.

The Minister passed, doing his rounds,
He rubbed his eyes, “Well, I'll be bound!
Never before have I seen such squads,
Of "bufo bufo" at the crossroads”.

In better trim now, free from menace,
Past wee Scoom's and Macdonald's henhouse.
As happy as Larry, they were sookin' on toffees,
As they hopped past the Bakers and the Post Office.

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

More tomorra night, when they finally come thegither wi' the puddocks.

[SARID]

Well Humphlock, Ave no mind o'Tobermory Jock. The wan a hae mind off wis Bonnie Bella a hermless sowel who wis wan o' the "Travelling " folk, as they are called now. Fir some daft reason a wis terrified o' her when she came knocking at ma Granny's door.Am sure Bella winna have harmed a hair o' yir heed, the cratur.

[wizard&paradox]

The banter is brilliant!

[Humphlock]

Here we re-join the toads on their progress through Airds

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

Fornenst the monument, at the hotel,
Their snouts picked up a tempting smell.
The Laird said “Oh I near forgot, I'll
Need to go to the Cruban for a bottle.”

The other toads waited as they were bid,
Some beside the kiosk and some in the wid.
Half an oor later, oot Tam swerved,
“Ach, it took me all this time tae get served.”

Bonny Airds wis well behind them now,
The young yins craiked, but Tam winna allow
Them to stop at the tearoom or bungalow,
For they could hear hoochin' from doon a-below.

Like a burn, they went poorin' doon the Spoot Wid,
Some o' them hopped, but most o' them slid,
So eager were they all to reach
The festivities on the Sandy Beach.

Now for the climax of this story:
Perched on the Humphlock, in all his glory,
The King Puddock sat on a velvet pillow,
Watching his subjects dance a Strip the Willow.

The band wis givin' it heedarum hodarum,
A big long puddock wis playing the melodeon,
Wi' a piper and a drummer to beat the time,
The sound they made was jeest sublime.

The Queen Puddock, clad in tartan silks,
Was dining on crechans and a meal o' wilks.
The King chose gleshan and scouder tart,
And the rest had beastie cheese and skart.

They were gracious hosts and welcomed their guests,
Though the toads were hardly appropriately dressed.
The Toad Laird took the Puddock Queen's hand,
And ordered a Gaelic waltz from the band.

The King Puddock signalled approval, and then
The box player struck up wi' Carradale Glen.
All the toads rushed to take the floor,
They had plenty of partners, there were puddocks galore.

Cailin Mo Rhuinsa was next from the band,
Wee couples were waltzing all over the sand.
At the end o' the dance the bold Tam twice
Kissed the Queen Puddock, he wisn'a wise.

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

More tomorra night, if I'm spared.

[chuckiebay]

Ah've bin oot on the ran dan agen thi night. Ah've maybe no hid as good a time as the puddocks on the shore. There ur no youngflas that can dance like the auld yins. They knew how tae hold a lassie and whirl her roond the floor in a waltz. Thi young yins now havnae a clue. Ah'm thinkin it's a loast art. Thay dono whit thir missin.

Naow we've done the hills an ah've fallen flat on ma face wi CrocDonn but whit aboot the wids we played in whin we were wee. There wis the Shor wid where we picked hazelnuts in the autumn, muckle fours an muckle fives. Airds wid which wis great for chasin or buildin wee hooses. The nixt two ah canna mind which wis which - the Crow wid and Blackhill wid. They wir behind Tormore and Burma. Ah nearly forgot the Well wid but it wis that marshy we nivver played much in it. Ah hope the folk in the hooses ther don't wake up all milldewed of a morning. Lastly wis Portrigh wid which wis only played in by the wee ones in Portrigh when they wirna scramblin o'er the rocks on the Point.

Keep the verses cumin' Humphlock. Ye'll be replacin Wal as the bard.

[witchnettle]

well chuckie, me and a friend and my kids and a couple of extra kids (i always seem to have a couple of extra kids) had a great game of hide and seek in the aird wids in the xmas holidays, we all wore green to add to the level of concealment. At one point one adult was half way up a tree and we were all standing underneath trying to decide where to look next. I'm proud to say i hid in a rhoddie at one point and had the whole gang walk past me and stop and look in the bush where i was and never saw me at all.
aye they are great wids for playing in, my kids love it in there, just wish there wasn't so much broken glass......
just to complete the image of non-sense that was around this festive season, we went for a swim at the bay on new years morning, and lovely it was too.... the kids want to make it a yearly event, so if anyone is feeling brave next year we'll see them there.....
x

[Bitter End]

well well we hiv reached portrigh an the bay near the only place thet Ah kin mind o the name Deer bein used -- the Deer Shed hoo abit thet yin?

[Humphlock]

Welcome back to the Puddocks' Ceilidh where things are hotting up.

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

The King then called for a Canadian Barn Dance
The Laird sat it oot – it was too bourgeois,
But he watched the Queen as if in a trance,
He couldn't take his eyes off her pas de bas.

A shout went up, “The bar is open!”
Tam croaked “Fine, that's whit I wis hopin'”
They had partan beer first, then a wee while later
They moved on to a drop o' the cratur.

The young frogs, even the very small
Were showing off and acting droll,
Eating sticky-willies that weren'a ripe
And leapfrogging over the sewage pipe.

Some teenage puddocks were smokin' dockans
Till they were feelin' seek and seein' bochans.
More responsible frogs were sent on patrols
To the nursery dubs to check the tadpoles.

On the wee bit o' grass across the road,
The pensioner puddocks and tired old toads
Sat doon on a dose o' wee toadstools,
To watch a game o' chuckie-stone bools.

The dancers were dancin', as if on fire,
A reel to The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre.
Tam, for a dare, ate a dozen spootfish,
Then wraxed his back in a Highland Schottische.

The Puddock Queen offered him some o' her wilks
They looked wild and good, they were done in milk.
Rid in the face, he said with a chuckle,
“Och, all right then, jeest a wee puckle”.

Then he chapped his tum'ler to call for wheesht
And made the most elegant speech, oh jeest!
The praise he came oot wi' coona have been higher,
It was the best dance ever seen in Kintyre.

He thanked the puddocks for the wonderful feast,
Thanks too to the band, last but not least.
Then he played a wee jig on his ukelele,
And so they continued with the ceilidh.

Long after most humans had gone to their bed
Amphibians were winchin' in Jamie's shed,
Puffin' on the doats o' cigarettes
And gettin' fankled in the nets.

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

Tune in tomorra night for the final installment.

[SARID]

Am oot wi the O S again tae help Chuckiebay get sorted oot wae the location o' all the wids roond aboot. The Century Wid sterts at Tor Mhor and goes sooth an becomes the Ballemenoch Wid an then turns intae the Crow Wid. which turns intae the Gorton Wid. The Sawmill Wid sterts at Gorton Cottage All these Wids are oan the right han-- side o' the main rod oot the village. The Blackhill Wid is the wan behind the new School , an runs doon tae the Mains rod. Ma Auntie ( a midwife ) once delivered a baby in a"traveller's " tent They used tae camp in the wee field tae the right o' the cross-- rods on the way tae Portrigh A hope yer no all in a wild state o' confusion efter all that, but a've done the best a can! It must hav been a wild sprachle for her, and the hot waater always needed, must hiv come oot the Ballemenoch Burn on its way tae the Bay.
Finally the Triangle Wid is the Wid between Portrigh and the Bay Gate.
By the way, am no meaning the Ballemenoch Burn is oot a thermal spring as a give the impression the midwife concerned wis gettin hot waater from the burn, only cauld waater tae heat! Am no wantin tae be meetin the Burma Rod folk tearing doon the Cross Rod fur a dip in hot waater tae save pittin on the immersion heater

[Right Pongal]

Well Humphlock, it was great that you reivived the word Creachan in one of yoor most recent posts, but I don't think you should have given away the secret of docken smoking. There's enough of us see bochans on a daily basis, without foisting him and his ilk on the younger generation as well.

Never mind, I am looking forward to the next instalment of your poem. Where did the toads finally settle? Was it down the quay???

Welcome back to the Puddocks' Ceilidh where things are hotting up......

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

Some teenage puddocks were smokin' dockans
Till they were feelin' seek and seein' bochans.
More responsible frogs were sent on patrols
To the nursery dubs to check the tadpoles.