I embarrass myself, and the medical chest runs low

...c-c-c-c-l-l-l-l-i-i-i-i-f-f-f-f-s-s-s-s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
In my excitement over winning the rice pudding challenge, I forgot myself, and toppled backwards over the cliffs.
I'm SO annoyed with myself. I've spent most of my life here on the Outcrop, and even when I've over-indulged down at the Puff Inn, I'm so well aware of the dangers that I've never embarrassed myself like this. (Especially since I've pushed a few others Over the Top myself. Or so the tittle tattlers would have you believe. But that's all documented in previous posts.)
Fortunately, Ranald and Sandy Wand'ring Albatrosse were flying lower than usual, in search of some cave or other which they were scheduled to refurbish. They swooped underneath me and attempted to push me back up to the top of the cliff. However...
"Ow! For pity's sake, Tuppy! not being rude or anything, but how much do you weigh, exactly?"
"Let's not get into specifics, Ranald. This isn't doing my back any good. I'll simply have to let him go."
"No, don't! don't!" I cried, glancing down to the Bay, where a very familiar fin was circling ominously.
"Well help us out here Tuppy! do some work!"
And with that they heaved me as close to the clifftop as they could manage. I seized hold of a tuft of grass with my teeth (thank goodness they are my own) while the T-G gripped my fore legs and pulled me up.
"Blimey, that was close. I thought we'd have to get the winch," sniggered Tuppence, who had been watching the whole proceedings with folded arms.
Ranald and Sandy collapsed on the grass beside me, demanding hot stones and a Swedish massage.
"Swedish massage? Hereabouts? Hardly. The best we can do is some embrocation. I think there's some left in the medical chest..."
"No Tuppy. You drank it last Saturday after the madeira ran out, remember? to wash down your Ginster?"
"Oh yes. Fetch the medical chest, anyway Geoffrey! I feel a bit bilious..."
"Tuppy - I'm sorry to say this, but the medical chest is running low. We're out of mostly everything. Sal volatile. Opium. Morphine. Junior Aspirin. Rennies. Senokot. Japps. The lot. We'll have to go over to Speedispend and stock up. Do they still do opium tabloids in a multipack?"

slaughterhouse fifty five

Party party party! those were the words which greeted us as we arrived at the newly refurbished Old Rectory last weekend. No, not that weekend just gone past - the one BEFORE.
Yes, it's taken us that long to recover. Apsley and Cherry had really gone to town with a BBQ, patio heaters, outdoor jacuzzi, Dansette record player plugged in to an extension cable, mirror ball and flashing disco lights. Ranald and Sandy (Wand'ring Albatrosse) were guests of honour, as they redesigned the place of course. They've gone for a "retro" 70s look, very rustic, with dried flowers and gourds everywhere, and really uncomfortable orange moquette furniture. The wallpaper was the same as Jack Regan's in The Sweeney - sort of large, intersecting greenish and cream squares, specially chosen to clash horribly with the orange moquette.
The drinks (purple peril, natch) were served in olde style pint mugs, the ones you don't get any more in pubs (except in the Puff Inn, of course).
The food was to die for (more of that later!) Cherry had excelled herself as usual. Not only did we have our fave korn bif and pineapple chunk kebabs, there were weird things on sticks, jammed into upside down oranges covered with foil, such as sausages (my fave!!) cheese kubes (Hmmm....) pickled onions (better) and maraschino cherries (take them or leave them, personally).
And the guests!! first, the more savoury ones. Me and Geoffrey, of course, The Tupfinder General (Mrs T-G did not appear, as per), Stormy (appeared after closing time with a welcome couple of crates of meths), Razor Bill, and of course Ranald and Sandy. We all wore fancy dress by the way - the theme was 70s, to match the decor. Ranald and Sandy rather boringly wore denims and long wigs, and came as "The Sutherland Brothers" - very disappointing and out of character. Razor Bill wore moon boots (goodness knows where he dug them up from - but more of that later!) and came as David Cassidy - Stormy came as Robert Plant, which we thought doesn't really count as apart from wrinkles he looks pretty much the same regardless of decade - the T-G came as Sherlock Holmes, and nobody had the nerve to tell him he'd got it badly wrong (he thought theme was the 1870s).
I got my wool tightly permed and dyed black, wore blue satin flares, platform soles and a sequinned jacket and came as Billy Ocean. Geoffrey was mortified and almost refused to go to the party at all. In the end, he wore a long white cape and a blond wig, and went as Rick Wakeman.
Now for the UNsavoury guests. True to form, Tuppence arrived mob-handed with his gang of rats, and proceeded to "diss" the entire party, saying the music was "crap" (Apsley's Top of the Pops album 1972 with not the right singers on it, was playing at the time, so maybe he had a point...)and the food inedible (well, I suppose he had a point there too - some of it definitely was...and coming from me, that's saying a lot...) He then plugged in his moog, to Apsley and Cherry's generator, shouting "I'LL give you 70s" and started blasting out the opening bit from Deep Purple's Sweet Child in Time.
As the song progressed, and Tuppence's screeching and screaming reached a ghastly crescendo, the generator began to overheat and smoke began to pour from the electric socket.
Before we knew it, a raging fire had started - AGAIN!!!!
more later....

the Fulmars invite us to a party/do

Great news! Ranald and Sandy (Wand'ring Albatrosse) have finished remodelling the Old Rectory (which people are rather churlishly blaming ME for burning down! see previous posts as to why this ridiculous accusation was made - as if it was MY fault the meths got spilt over the BBQ) and Apsley and Cherry are all set to move back in. They're fed up living in the caravan - it would do Geoffrey and me quite nicely as a holiday home/weekend retreat-style dwelling, but Cherry does like her comforts.
A large Speedispend van arrived at the Old Rectory this afternoon, stuffed full of every electrical appliance and mod con under the sun. (Cherry says the stuff's not costing her a penny, as she's put it on plastic and in any case will be getting a load of Speedispend kloobkahd money-back-style vouchers just in time for Christmas - personally I'm not quite sure she's got that right but time will tell) Chief item of interest alongside the foot spas, plug in back massagers etc. was a replacement 62 inch telly, and an invite arrived via Razor Bill this morning to an X Factor/housewarming-style party/do, this Saturday evening!
Let's just hope the house doesn't get TOO warm - like it did last time when it burnt down!

oh dear oh dear

Oh dear oh dear. I'm afraid we've had a bit of a week. On Monday last, Ranald and Sandy took a break from their labours trying to rebuild the Old Rectory, and went for a stretch of the wings. They headed north west, where Baby Orca (BO) was spotted patrolling the outer reaches of The Minch. He seemed to be building himself up into a frenzy, swimming round in tighter and tighter circles, while moving south east, i.e. towards US.
Bad enough - but directly in his path, they spotted Tuppence, sculling away for dear life.
Fortunately, the two of them managed to heave the coracle into the air, Tuppence safely on board but screaming the most foul abuse imaginable.
He likes to think he can handle any situation, hence his wrath. Hurt pride, plain and simple. But Ranald and Sandy were having none of it.
"Out you go, ungrateful brat!" they said, and tipped the coracle over. Tuppence hurtled to the ground - well, sea - where he had to swim like billy be jiggered while the orca powered his way towards him with a very determined look on his face. He made it to land, give him his due, but we're not sure where he is at the moment. Possibly hiding out in one of the tunnels, plotting his next exploit...
Meanwhile, the Fulmars are getting short shrift at Tupfinder Towers. Mrs T-G says they are eating her out of house and home, and using up all the hot water. The Tupfinder general is spending all his spare time here at the Outcrop, puffing away on his pipe in a very agitated manner and drinking all our madeira, saying he's desperate for some peace and quiet...
The sooner Ranald and Sandy get the Old Rectory up and running, the better.

the old rectory burns to the ground, and I get the blame

Geoffrey and I are having a quiet day today, huddled by the fireside with our kneerugs and steaming mugs of hot madeira as the rain pours down outside. Mind you, even if the rain wasn't pouring down, we'd both be pretty incapable of movement.
"Great to be back home again, Geoffrey."
"Indeed, Tuppy. Just wish we hadn't overindulged at the Fulmars' on Friday. Have you got any more Bisodal by the way?"
We were all invited to BBQ at the Fulmars' on Friday night, in honour of Ranald and Sandy's forthcoming re-modelling of the Old Rectory. Cherry had made up some of her famous korn bif and pineapple kebabs, and I'm sorry to say it and risk seeming ungrateful, but Apsley undercooked them. Geoffrey spotted that the gas jets on the barbeque were burning with a sinister yellow, not blue, flame, and pointed this out to Apsley, emphasizing the risk to us all of carbon monoxide poisoning, not to mention some sort of ghastly improperly-heated-through-food-style poisoning, as well.
"Rubbish! relax and have another drink, Geoff!" said Apsley in his fulsome way, slapping Geoffrey on the shoulder and pouring him another brimming glass of purple peril (meths based drink - see previous posts for recipe). Geoffrey hates being slapped on the shoulder, and he hates being called "Geoff" as well, but he was much too polite to say so. I therefore felt obliged to step in and say something.
Unfortunately, as I stepped forwards, my foot caught in the trailing string of Apsley's special plastic BBQ apron (ghastly - female Fulmar in black underwear on front), and I tripped, banging in to Geoffrey, and knocking his glassful of Purple Peril all over the BBQ, which consequently was set ablaze in no uncertain manner.
Some fool attempted to stem the flames by pouring more meths over, and you can imagine the result.
The Old Rectory was burnt to the ground, jacuzzi, 62" telly, Cherry's Burt Bacharach albums, decking, the lot. We all had to run for our lives!!!
We offered the Fulmars the sanctuary of our settee here at the Outcrop, which they declined rather sniffily, partly because they blame ME for the fire!! and partly because the Outcrop falls a tad short of their usual requirements viz a viz accommodation i.e. we have no "mod cons".
So they are now ensconced in the East Wing of Tupfinder Towers, which has ensuite facilities and gives a lovely view of the sea, so they imagine. (I think the ensuite facilities likely consist of a hole in the floor of the bedroom, with a "drop" on to the seaweed covered rocks below (East Wing is on the fourth floor) - not sure how Cherry will cope with that, but I'm sure we'll hear all about it - I'll bet there is no soft bog roll, either)
No sign of Tuppence yet - Geoffrey flew a mile or two out for a recce but saw nothing.
We can only hope that the Orca is still away visiting his family in the Southern Ocean...

heading for home

What luck! turns out Ranald and Sandy had stopped off at Flannan Isle for a breather on their way to "Hereabouts..." ( see gazetteer for info.) , where they've been invited to give Apsley and Cherry's abode, The Old Rectory, a makeover.
"But WHY? Only last year they got it stonecladded and decked and goodness knows what all else." we asked.
"That's precisely why," replied Ranald. "They want all that stripped down now. They're sick of it. They want a different look for the autumn. More rustic, I think, wasn't it Sandy? Log fires and sheaves of dried this and that? Gourds and twig-type stuff, in earthenware pots? Textured fabrics, in natural tones?"
Sandy shrugged. "No earthly idea and frankly I could not care one jot. They're SO tacky, and they won't listen to advice. It's their way, or no way. Frankly I'd rather it was no way, as I've NO interest in working for them, but what with the recession we need the money. Anyway - can we offer the two of you a lift back to the Outcrop?"
"Yes!!" we chorused, clambering on to their enormous backs.
"Hang on!" they shouted, as they unfurled their beautiful white wings, took off into the westering wind and soared homewards.
As we soared skywards, we glimpsed some wreckage. It looked very much like a pile of rusting tin cans - rusting korn bif tins, to be precise. In fact, we deduced that it was Tuppence's latest TTD (time travelling device - see previous posts), which must have crash-landed on Flannan Isle, hence his mysterious presence on the island. As we flew over the Minch, we glimpsed a tiny white woolly figure clad in yellow oilskins, sculling valiantly away, heading for...well, hard to tell really. But I'm sure it was Tuppence.

welcome visitors

We slithered over the rocks towards the cave where we'd stashed the coracle, closely followed by Tuppence, still firing off the odd shot.
"You're on a hiding to nothing, uncle Tuppy," he shrieked above the gale. "Look!"
We turned and glanced quickly over our shoulders, to see Tuppence brandishing something small in his hand.
"Oh no. It's the bung." Geoffrey's shoulders dropped in despair.
"What?"
"The bung. From the coracle. Without it, it'll sink like a stone."
With that, Tuppence scurried past us, bung in hand, and proceeded to retrieve the coracle.
"Bye, uncle Tuppy!" he screamed as he sculled out into thirty foot waves. "Happy landings!"
"He's gone completely off his rocker," I said. "But we still don't know how he got here in the first place. He must have had a craft of some sort. We'd better have a look round once the gale dies down."
"Yes," said Geoffrey. "Perhaps there's something we can salvage."
"Geoffrey, " I said, "I need to say something at this juncture. Please don't worry about me. You have wings. You can fly away whenever you like. Please don't stay here and starve with me. I'll be all right on my own. Please don't worry about me, being left here to die alone on the rocks, with no-one to comfort me. Don't worry in the least. Just you go, and save yourself. I'll be fine. Honestly."
"Nonsense, Tuppy!" cried Goeffrey, with tears in his eyes. "If I DO fly away..."
"Oh!" a small cry escaped my lips.
"If I DO fly away, " he continued, with a smile, "It will only be to fetch help. Don't worry, Tuppy. I'd never leave you to die."
Suddenly the gale died down, and we felt another breeze - as enormous wings flapped around our heads...
"Ranald and Sandy! how lovely of you to stop by!" cried Geoffrey. It was the Wand'ring Albatrosse's. What luck!

dead flying pig source of horrible pong

We found the source of the horrible pong - there was a dead pig behind the oven. Geoffrey says that his cousin Ranald (Ranald Wand'ring Albatrosse) has seen pigs flying about willy nilly all over the shop, and we can only think that one of them passed away and plummeted to earth, via our holey roof, and landed behind our oven, whilst we were in Weatherfield visiting our friends in Coronation Street. When I say "passed away", there is a bullet hole in the pig's skull. The only guns Hereabouts belong to the Tupfinder general - and of course Tuppence stole the Tupfinder's old service revolver from the vitrine some while back ( see previous posts)
The Tupfinder still has a brace of pistols, but I can't really see him firing them at pigs. We can only hope that Tuppence does not come looking for his "bag". Well, if he does, he will get more than he bargained for (I say bravely). We've dug a deadfall outside the front door, just in case.
He won't be expecting that! neither will anyone else, of course - which could be a problem...