Carradale

[Bitter End]

Dorian --thet wis grand aye mind as weel
Ayr , thers nae a toon surpassess fur puuullin tails oaf hoarses arses!

[Bobbie En Tejas]

Okay, where'd ya'll go? Is there a party somewhere? Did you all fall into a cave? Blink twice if you can hear me.

[Bitter End]

when the Bochan goes quiet it is time for wise folk tae git ther heids richt doon!! He cuild be thinkin aboot yon hole the back o the golf course wher the shoal o rid fellas ended ther days thet naeone his mentioned yit--- or wurse he cuild be havin a wee wurd wi morenish an plottin the doonfaall o aall the rest o us LET SLEEPIN Bochans FESTER in ther own wey!!

[bubbly jock]

Bochan mor

Did you miss the entertainment the last day? I was hoping you would have given us your slant on the antics. Decided to come in mashelf with the wee turn of events.

Watched a Seabird and the Baker moving tae a new oven. Cookery books and household articles strewn aboot the street. Must have fallen from under the wing on the flight from 37 tae 26. I've never seen such a wide selection of cookery books, are we naw lucky tae have such a quality purveyor in oor midst? It was better than any pantomime in the big smoke. Ach nae doot the extra space will be the icing on the cake for them.

Hope you caught the wee snippet in the Arran Banner. Set me up for the day I laughed 'till I cried and bubbly jean laid an egg when she read it.

The wee story goes that an article of clothing was washed up on the shore at Pirnmill and on inspection it turned out to be a pair of drawers.

One of the labels on the garment said 3% cotton 6% nylon and 91% keech.

Other labels identified the manufacturer as "What Every Woman Doesn't Want" but a personal label "Always Argyll" has got the polis baffled. Valerie Dunbar and the keech collector are helping the polis wae their enquiries.

The wind and tidal experts have identified that this garment could have floated over from Waterfoot. I'll naw be eating any broon troot oot of that burn the year.

bubbly

[Bitter End]

Wis thet whit wis up wi yon whale --choked oan an ould perr o drawers?

[Bochan Mor]

Bochan mor

Did you miss the entertainment the last day? I was hoping you would have given us your slant on the antics. Decided to come in mashelf with the wee turn of events.

Watched a Seabird and the Baker moving tae a new oven. Cookery books and household articles strewn aboot the street. Must have fallen from under the wing on the flight from 37 tae 26. I've never seen such a wide selection of cookery books, are we naw lucky tae have such a quality purveyor in oor midst? It was better than any pantomime in the big smoke. Ach nae doot the extra space will be the icing on the cake for them.

Hope you caught the wee snippet in the Arran Banner. Set me up for the day I laughed 'till I cried and bubbly jean laid an egg when she read it.

The wee story goes that an article of clothing was washed up on the shore at Pirnmill and on inspection it turned out to be a pair of drawers.

One of the labels on the garment said 3% cotton 6% nylon and 91% keech.

Other labels identified the manufacturer as "What Every Woman Doesn't Want" but a personal label "Always Argyll" has got the polis baffled. Valerie Dunbar and the keech collector are helping the polis wae their enquiries.

The wind and tidal experts have identified that this garment could have floated over from Waterfoot. I'll naw be eating any broon troot oot of that burn the year.

bubbly

There you are now, a new century and a new 'Boss' at number 26.

One that cooks, bakes, hoovers and does the dishes, but oh ma boy, he'd better look after the gerden or the real boss will maybe reach him.

It'll be a boon for the neighbours as well, with the confectioner being able to pass unsold pancakes, scones etc over the fence at the gable end.

The fence is low there as well, with years of first footing and all that kind of sociable nonsense.

However, this will be the first year that the first footers needn't bother bringing the black bun, as he'll already be installed in his chair at the side of the fireplace.

The Hall committee and the fishermen will be more than 'RELIEVED' that a spate finally removed the said garments from the paddles on the wheel, and that they cleared the sound without being 'Fouled' in anyones net. It would have been just like the thing, if the boogans had to tow the drawers into the shallow water and get one of the spoot divers to cut them out. They might even have been responsible for the downturn in the spoot fishing in the bay.

I wonder what the man himself would have thought if they had come to the surface in one of the spoot bags?


P.S. There's a big wasps nest at the back of the shed at 26, waiting to buzz back to life in the spring. The 'Boss' used to feed them with marmalde and condensed milk.

[Right Pongal]

.......but oh ma boy, he'd better look after the gerden or the real boss will maybe reach him..................................

.........The Hall committee and the fishermen will be more than 'RELIEVED' that a spate finally removed the said garments from the paddles on the wheel, and that they cleared the sound without being 'Fouled' in anyones net. It would have been just like the thing, if the boogans had to tow the drawers into the shallow water and get one of the spoot divers to cut them out. They might even have been responsible for the downturn in the spoot fishing in the bay.

I wonder what the man himself would have thought if they had come to the surface in one of the spoot bags?


P.S. There's a big wasps nest at the back of the shed at 26, waiting to buzz back to life in the spring. The 'Boss' used to feed them with marmalde and condensed milk.

There's jeest no question about it, he'll need to keep it tidy. The Boss shouldna need to tell him. The wasps shouldna be hermed, they will keep any unwanted intruders from the shed.

However, all this filth arriving on the shores of Arran from the Village as well, it's a damn disgrace. Was it really in the Arran Banner, and did they have a photo? Surely not on the front page.

My goodness they took some time to hit their mark. Was it naw the night of thon Huge Trousers that the sh*t dinna hit the pan. You would hardly credit a chain of events like thon. Someone follows through between the Crubhan and the Village Hall, and 2 months later, some poor reporter is sent doon with his pencil, pad & freezer bag to the shores of the opposite side of the Kilbrannan Sound, generating editorial in an island newspaper, which is probably edited in Oban and printed in Hong Kong, before being parachuted back into Arran.

That Easterly wind must have blown one of the parachutes off course when bubbly managed to get one at the quay. Aye, it's an ill wind that blaws no good.

Naw there's no excuse for making a mess, and lack of self respect. Thankfully some of us still have high standards in the village. Take young Glesga Poogie for example. Away doon to thon Class of 77 re-union, dressed like a tailors dummy, in the trendiest of atire, and completely baffled at all of those old grannies who were swamping him. In the end, he had to go and ask Davie's Jean, who's mothers they were. He was the only one there that had the energy to move too fast for the camera.

Aye, still full of nonsense, but you have to say: 'Right Pongal'

[Bochan Mor]

Glesga Poogie was Aye Right Pongal, wae a shine off his hair & skin. The auld yins doon the Shore Road used to always be admiring the style of him. Even playing knifey on the Spoot Wood swing, his Kickers would remain absolutely spotless.

Infact, is that you Donald?

I know it's naw the other Donald, he's still living the high life out in Hong Kong!

[Bitter End]

Well well now Bochan hae ye changed frae a qwerty keyboard or hae the mists o Bochan Lore cummin baack tae sort ye oot. Niver niver hae the Quays bin hit in sich a random fashion by a master keyboard pleyer!

[Bochan Mor]

Well well now Bochan hae ye changed frae a qwerty keyboard or hae the mists o Bochan Lore cummin baack tae sort ye oot. Niver niver hae the Quays bin hit in sich a random fashion by a master keyboard pleyer!

Damn me Bitter Friend, I was never any use with Brahms or Chopin. I was frying the ham & cracking eggs wae one hand and typing on my laptop wae the other. Not only that, I had one ear on the fermer's forecast and the other trying desperately to avoid hearing what Mrs Bochan was rattling on aboot, as she mixed the spices and treacle into this year's Christmas cake. She found the recipe in two halfs blowing around between Woodside & Tormhor. It was written on an old bit of parchment wae a quill pen. There was a recipe for rolls on the reverse side, but nobody would want it, as it was all in lbs and stones.

Not forgetting the young bochan tribe running amok round aboot me, stealing my carpet slippers and hiding my hair brush. It's a wonder that I can string two worsd togehter!!

[morenish]

is there any chance o ye postin that recipe on here bochan, like it was a WRI thing?
i'm sure it's a good wan as it probably fed more than wan chenerashun o crofter, back in the days when all the bread was broon.

mind an add more treacle tho as that recipe was for the old water supply and the cake will look a bit pale if you dont darken it artifeeshaly!

[Bochan Mor]

is there any chance o ye postin that recipe on here bochan, like it was a WRI thing?
i'm sure it's a good wan as it probably fed more than wan chenerashun o crofter, back in the days when all the bread was broon.

mind an add more treacle tho as that recipe was for the old water supply and the cake will look a bit pale if you dont darken it artifeeshaly!

I'm damned if I know right enough! I'd no sooner posted the story on here and we heard the back door slam. Couldn't see a denged thing, but there was a trail of flour leading up around the Tormhor pavement, and into the darkness. Yes, you guessed it, the recipe, at least half of it, has been spirited away.

Mrs Bochan is trying to mind what was in the top half, but 1 stone of plain floor, a cup of baking powder, 2 dozen eggs, 1 stone of currants, 1 stone of sultanas, and half a stone of mixed peel and chopped glace cherries. 2lbs of ground almonds, a tin of condensed milk, 3 tins of treacle, a bottle & a half of Napolean, and mind Napolean, Brandy, was about the making of it.

All baked at 3 shovelfulls of anthracite for 3 hours 22 minutes.

What a bloody mess the hoose got into. Mrs Bochan started in her biggest baking bowl in the kitchen, but feenished up to her knees in the bath. Aye, you were right, the final mix was a bit pale, so with no treacle left in the village, she added two bottles of dark Soy sauce, which seemed to do the trick.

I don't know what size of a cake this was meant to be for, but our oven has been going flat out since Sunday afternoon, and you still cann't see the bottom of the bath. I half thought that you might have a spare compartment in that big stove of yours, that could have done a couple of dozen of these cakes.

As you can imagine, there's no need for Mrs Morenish to get this recipe, as I think we'll be doling it out to all and sundry in the coming weeks. As it is, there's no more room in the larder and Mrs Bochan is starting to tip my photos out onto the floor to free up boxes for despatching the wretched cakes.

It didn't say whether you had to put 3 shovels of the anthracite into each oven full, and I'm not even sure what effect this was meant to have. The young bochans are already decrying the taste, and that was just them picking the burnt bits off the edges of the greaseproof paper.

[Hugs Thistles]

Here, it's gey strange, but I've noticed that yir Carradale webcam regularly ceases to work - blacking out at around 3.30 in mid-efternoon - and only starts working again around 8 in the morning. It does remind me however of peering in the Kayster's many crevices. What is the reason for this phenomenon? It didn't happened lang syne in the summer months.

HT

[Bochan Mor]

I've still got a scatter of these to sell - I basically got rid of enough to cover my initial outlay but I have a scatter of them through in the back room and need to get rid of them...

Anyone?...EXTRACTED FROM THE 'FOR SALE' THREAD

Aye Davie, you've jeest inadvertantly given another clue to the family history. It's time you put the pump on the auld fla again. The word 'scatter' used in this context has its roots in the ring-net industry, and was probably used regularly in the home of a 'Crofter' herring fisherman.

Tell him it's time to spill the beans and show the genes!

The Crofters await with baited breath......

I've Here, it's gey strange, but I've noticed that yir Carradale webcam regularly ceases to work - blacking out at around 3.30 in mid-efternoon - and only starts working again around 8 in the morning. It does remind me however of peering in the Kayster's many crevices. What is the reason for this phenomenon? It didn't happened lang syne in the summer months.

HT

HT, It's Gary's neighbours that are to blame for this one. They've realised that you can remotely control this new camera of his, so as soon as dusk comes down, they point it skyward.

[GarySutherland]

I've noticed that yir Carradale webcam regularly ceases to work - blacking out at around 3.30 in mid-efternoon - and only starts working again around 8 in the morning.

There didn't seem to be much point in it uploading pictures of the darkness all night long so now it's scheduled to stop sending at around 4:30pm, resuming again at around 6am. The other camera's online 24/7.

Cheers
Gary