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!

an unexpected holiday

Spockfingers threw himself on to the settee and promptly fell sound asleep. The snoring was so unbelievably loud that the walls and roof of the outcrop began to shake alarmingly. We decided we'd have to wake him up - no easy task - and instantly regretted it, because he then burst into song. Awful renditions of various "numbers" he remembered from T in the Park. We tried to find out how long he intended to stay with us, but he refused to say.
Eventually, we decided that if HE wasn't moving, WE would have to. So, we got out the old coracle, packed a few belongings and supplies into a couple of teachests and set off into the blue. We sculled and sculled with a following wind, past the time-space continuum anomaly, and the Infra Inn, and the Hulks, (now rusting and empty, thankfully - see last years posts if you want to know how we rescued all the poor sheep who were awaiting slaughter) until we cleared the headland of "Over There".
Eventually, we reached the archipelago of St Kilda, but the seas were against us and we had to scull away again through mountainous waves. After sailing through the night, we ended up at the old lighthouse on the Flannan Isles.
We're still there...

phew - a near death experience

Well, here I am, back at the outcrop - and I couldn't be more relieved. There was I, breathing my last, the strength draining out of my exhausted limbs, when Geoffrey appeared as I knew he would - sculling along in the coracle. I was alarmed to see that Tuppence was with him - as readers will know, Tuppence went right off the rails after his ghastly prog rock phase. But I needn't have worried.

"Grab an oar uncle Tuppy," he piped, and in a trice I was hauled on board and a flask of brandy was at my lips - but it was too late for brandy - I fell into a deep swoon - the last words I heard were,"Oh-oh - we're losing him - fetch the medical case, Geoffrey," as Tuppence snapped into his "officer in charge" mode.

I awoke to find Tuppence's concerned eyes peering anxiously into mine. "I think the adrenalin's working, Geoffrey. You can stop pumping now. Fetch the sal volatile, will you?"

Pumping? Indeed, I could feel the steady rhythm of Geoffrey's webbed feet beating out a one-two-one-two directly over my heart. Next, he snapped open a vial of sal volatile and waved it under my nose. I felt like my old self in no time at all, after that.

Later on, we sat by a roaring driftwood fire at the Outcrop, slippers on, enjoying a glass or two of madeira, a pipeful of Black Bogey and a bowl of savoury bacon flavour snax, and I was so glad to be home once more and among friends. Tuppence apologised for his past - quite frankly vile - behaviour, and I agreed to let bygones be bygones - for now anyway...

Word had also arrived, while I was "away", from Mr Spockfingers - he sent a photo of himself enjoying life on his health farm.

return of B.O.

You won't believe the week I've had. Or where I am. I'm back in the belly of the frigging beast! What happened is this. In my last post I described how Nippy Grimshaw floated off the cliff edge and over the sea, due to his sandwich boards being caught by a gust of wind.
We thought little of it until Geoffrey pointed out that there was an orca in the bay - none other than B.O. - Baby Orca - readers will recall - see previous posts if not - that B.O. arrived here some months back seeking revenge for the death of his mother, which he blamed on ME. Wrongly! (okay, I lit the match, but, as readers may also recall, it was really none other than mr spockfingers who caused the explosion inside the orca's cavernous belly - in which I was incarcerated - ergo, spockfingers is the true culprit.)
Anyway, I tried to press the point with B.O. - Spockfingers is presently in a clinic, recovering from the stresses of performing in BGT, and is not due back till tomorrow, so I didn't feel in the least bad about putting all the blame on him - via a megaphone, but with no effect - if anything he become more enraged and began breaching and snapping his massive jaws and blowing spouts of water up in the air in a most aggressive and alarming fashion.
Meanwhile poor Nippy was slowly heading downwards, the sandwich boards having lost their "lift". Geoffrey decided that we had to help him. Naturally I was horrified, but he said that he'd never speak to me again unless I helped too. So, I'd no choice but to get the old coracle out of the attic and drag it down to the shore, and sail off, taking the Tupfinder's brace of pistols with us, to fend off the orca.
Need I say more? We were swallowed up in a trice, and here we frigging are, sitting on his back molars and bored out of our skulls. Do we have a plan? of course! it is this: next time the orca opens his gob - which shouldn't be long - Geoffrey will fly out and get help. I trust Geoffrey implicitly - I know he won't let me down...

duck island

"Duck freakin' island? Duck FREAKIN' island???!!!" I'm afraid Geoffrey and I were awakened VERY rudely by Apsley and Cherry Fulmar's less than dulcet tones. What happened is this.

Apsley and Cherry are very nice in their own way - BUT - they are prone to petty jealousies. Hereabouts, we don't "keep up with the Jones's", we keep up with the Fulmars. Or would, if we gave a toss about keeping up with anybody - as readers will know only too well, we don't.

The Fulmars discovered that "someone" has built a floating island for ducks, half way between Hereabouts and ...Over there. It's not ideally situated, actually, as the sea gets terribly rough and there's a whirlpool and everything, (please see previous posts re. my travels to see the oracle in my coracle) so my guess is it won't last long. Nevertheless, the Fulmars are black affronted as they can see the freakin' thing from their patio. They're determined to either demolish it or build their own.

what an insult

It gets worse and worse. I'm starting to feel paranoid and defensive again, and not without good reason. Readers will remember that I was voted "most unpopular" in the solstice poll - though I managed to survive the resulting solstice seige unscathed - physically unscathed, that is, as it will take aeons for the mental scars to heal, if ever - well, I was only just managing to sleep nights after that debacle, when I was informed that baby orca has put a bounty on my head - as mentioned in my last post. I assumed that "bounty" meant "price" or "reward" i.e. a very large sum of money for my head on a plate. But no. Apparently he really is offering a Bounty, as in bar. I can only hope it's the full double bar, not just the half, and that it's a real Bounty, not the supermarket own brand coconut-style bar. Though if he was offering a multi-pack I might be tempted myself.
I'm now attempting to do a review of the year. It's been fairly eventful. Highlights include: time travelling to "over there"; setting sail in my old coracle; being swallowed up by a whale, and escaping by being belched out; being swallowed up again by same whale, and escaping by blowing whale up by setting light to anal emission from Highland cow; wandering as an outcast through the mist; being locked in the dungeon of the chateau d'If with the man in the iron mask; being attacked in my own home by Dr "I hate him" Wilson and my own nephew, Tuppence; seeeing my own home being blown to smithereens; being voted least popular; and now, I've got a bounty on my head.
On the up side, Geoffrey has been a staunch friend most of the time - although his loyalty was sorely tested after I ate Captain Scott's last biscuit - as has the Tupfinder general, and we have enjoyed the Fulmar's hospitality/BBQs/Xmas fare more often than we deserve, given how much we slag them off behind their backs. I also salvaged my wooly socks and non-slip soled slippers after Tuppence robbed Sanity Claws. So, I must be thankful for small mercies.
Some snowdrops are beginning to raise their little heads in the outcrop garden - what will the coming Springtime bring, and will I last that long?