Scots wurd o' the day

Well there are three ackshully.

First off - "Shallmillens" n. meaning fragments. "I seem to have sat on a packet of Hobnobs and now I'm afraid they're in shallmillens. Gutted. Serve me right for keeping them in my back pocket."

(Blimey I'm a bit tense today - post just dropped through the letterbox and I about jumped out of my skin.)

Secondly - "Strang-pig" - n. a vessel for preserving urine as a lye. "I'm off down to Ikea to get another Strang-pig - thon one's no' hauf sprung a leak."

Thirdly - everyone knows this one but I'm putting it in as it's one of my favourites - "Stravaig" v. to saunter, stroll; to go about aimlessly and idly. "I've spent my whole life stravaiging about and whit's wrang wi' that? You got a problem wi' me?" *nut*

Scots wurd o' the day

Well there are three ackshully.

First off - "Shallmillens" n. meaning fragments. "I seem to have sat on a packet of Hobnobs and now I'm afraid they're in shallmillens. Gutted. Serve me right for keeping them in my back pocket."

(Blimey I'm a bit tense today - post just dropped through the letterbox and I about jumped out of my skin.)

Secondly - "Strang-pig" - n. a vessel for preserving urine as a lye. "I'm off down to Ikea to get another Strang-pig - thon one's no' hauf sprung a leak."

Thirdly - everyone knows this one but I'm putting it in as it's one of my favourites - "Stravaig" v. to saunter, stroll; to go about aimlessly and idly. "I've spent my whole life stravaiging about and whit's wrang wi' that? You got a problem wi' me?" *nut*

Face in a tree

Seen earlier today....

Talisker Bay, Isle of Skye

Digressing for a minute - I took these years ago - found them and scanned them into the computer hence quality's not brilliant. Talisker Bay - wonderful place.

Some mornings I wake up and...

Some mornings I wake up and...

"Do you want...?"

"No."

Why did I say no, straight out like that? Sometimes it's better that way.

Scots wurd o' the Day

Leafing through Chambers's Scots Dictionary again.

Today's wurd - well, I can't decide.

I'll have two.

"Dementit". Duz wot it sez on the tin. But I think it sounds way better than "demented".

'Ye're drivin' me fair dementit wi' yer sprauchlin''.

Second wurd - "Demellit", which means hurt, or injured. A new one on me. 'Ah'm fair demellit efter thon barney we hud so ah am.'

Isn't life strange................

"....aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The noise of Geoffrey's blood-curdling screams echoed round my skull like a...

Oh I can't be bothered.

If truth be told, we're still sitting by the fire as per usual, drinking tea and musing over life's strange vagaries while the rain drums off the windowpane.

Life is very odd, isn't it? but that's what makes it interesting. Most of its oddity - I find - comes from two sources. One, that we're mortal, and all this - whatever it is - comes to an end - and we've no clue as to how, or when. That can make life feel quite pointless at times - what's it all for? I haven't the foggiest. I tend to think that as we're interconnected, organic creatures - everything is organic, when you think about it - we must be an essential part of the general warp and weft of the universe. And so it's a mistake to feel that anyone's life is pointless and ineffectual.
The second interesting oddity is human relationships. Can. Of. Worms. Can. Of. Worms. An endless source of oddness and fascination. Crashing around like bulls in china shops. Blooming heck. Not even going to GO there.

"Biscuit?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"Stopped raining yet?"

"Dunno."

Photos from last day of the year

Happy New Year Everyone!

Erm...that's it I think...

Kriss-mass-time, etc.

"Kriss-mass-tahm, don' let the belzend..kriss-mass-tahm, don' let the belzend..."

Spockfingers is giving it plenty welly this morning. We had a marathon festive lock-in at the Puff Inn last night, and I don't mind telling you I feel like death warmed up...might tell you all about it later...

Thanks and a very happy Solstice to all my readers

I'd just like to say a big thank you to those who have contacted me over the past day or two to say they're reading and enjoying this blog. And of course, massive thanks to those who have kept hanging in there over the past couple of years. It goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway - you're all Very Much Appreciated. Indeed.
Blogging can be kind of like screaming into a void, so getting that kind of encouragement means a lot - especially on this, the darkest day of the year!!!

#duh duh DUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH!# (dramatic music)

I have already posted the promo video for Jethro Tull's Solstice Bells. [As mentioned on my musical tastes page, despite all my better instincts I do have a weakness for "the mighty Tull", possibly after getting Ian Anderson's autograph in 1976. His auntie was our local chemist.]

Later on, Geoffrey and I will be putting on our jester's hats and our slippers with the pointy curled up toes and bells on the end, getting blind drunk, expanding our brains with strange herbs we've foraged from the moors, lighting a roaring driftwood fire and hunting down and roasting the first sentient being we can find in a ghastly low budget re-enactment of the final scene from the Wicker Man. I'll tell you all about it later.

Black Bun - the scourge of Scotland

Geoffrey and I have been arguing over which special comestibles to get in over the Festive.

As long-term readers will know, the "Big Day" Hereabouts is the Solstice rather than December 25th which we see as mere southern jiggerypokery and up-their-ain-bumness.

Yes, we celebrate the sun's nadir and the total dearth of sunlight and warmth and cheer with as much glee as we can muster - which isn't that much if I'm totally honest.

Geoffrey reckons we should try to obtain some "Black Bun".

"I really fancy a slice of Black Bun," he said. He sounded enthusiastic enough but I could still sense an element of doubt in his tone.

"I haven't laid eyes on a Black Bun since 1978," I countered. "And I can't say I'm all that sorry. As I remember, I burst a filling on the last slice I attempted. It seemed to be full of low grade gravel. And it tasted like something that came out of a dog's behind. So I can't see the attraction, quite frankly."

"I don't care," he pouted." I'm going out to search for some right now."

"Knock yourself out," I said, reaching for my pipe. "I'll keep an eye on your online Heartache Removal Service till you get back..."

My new dentures

It's amazing what modern dentistry can achieve. My orthodentist-style person has managed to craft a set of teeth identical to the ones he extracted from my mouth, just last week. Nobody would guess they're fake, and cost twenty grand.

They're a lovely fit as well. Thanks Dr. Will I. Kilmore!

Meanwhile - back on the boat....

More sing-a-longs in the sea

We've only spent the entire night in an open frigging life raft.

"Come on chaps. We must keep our spirits up," urged the T-G, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh I'd love to keep my frigging spirits up. I'd kill for a brandy."

"No need for that kind of attitude Tuppy. We have to work with what we've got. We're all intelligent creatures - well, kind of. Think of Captain Scott."

"He died of starvation."

"And possibly of the cold, and scurvy as well. But that's NOT going to happen to us," he replied firmly. "Look at Spockfingers. He's an example to us all."

Yes, Spockfingers was still there, swimming around the boat.

"Ah'm running oot o' fuel lads," he gasped. "Youz'll huff tae let me intae the boat. Ah cannae stay afloat. Ah cannae tak' much more o' this."

And he plonked his front hooves on the edge of the life raft, making it dip alarmingly.

"No Spockfingers! You'll sink us!" we shouted.

"Poke him with an oar T-G," I begged. "Get rid of him. Shoot him if you have to. He'll take us all down with him."

Spockfingers glared at me balefully. "Duly noted ye yeller wee get. Duly noted. Ah'll get ma revenge yoo mark ma wurds. Noo let me suggest an alternative. Let's all hae anuther wee sing-sang an' ah'll gulp doon lotsa air while ah'm daein' that, and try tae manyoufaktyure sum mare wind. Mebbes ah'll manyoufaktyure enuff tae power us hame. Noo whatsit tae be?"

"How about Row Row Row your Boat," suggested Geoffrey.

"NO!" we all replied. "That's far too twee. Let's go for Sweet Child in Time by Deep Purple."

"Okay doke," said Spockfingers, wriggling his shoulders. "Ah jist gang mare or less strait intae the climax."

"SWEET CHAHLD IN TAH-AH-M
YOO'LL SEE THE LAH-AH-T

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."

His falsetto echoed ear-splittingly round the Bay.

"For heaven's sake, " said the T-G as we all exchanged worried glances. "He's going to do us a damage screaming like that. We'd better try something tamer and hope that he joins in. Anybody got any ideas?"

"I rather like Daughter of Darkness by Tom Jones," suggested Geoffrey shyly. "I'll start it off."

"AH'LL start it aff," Spockfingers interrupted. "Heer we ging."

#" Dodder of dah-ahrkniss

Stay oot o' mah life mah life

You nicked ma chips an' you et the flamin' lot

Yoo dodder of dah-ah-rkniss..."

"Oh that's not right," scoffed the T-G. "It goes like THIS. #Woman, I can remember a woman... warm were her...#"

"Is that Mrs T-G you're singing about T-G," Geoffrey butted in eagerly. "Is she a woman? can I meet her? I've not met one before you see, and I'd love to."

"Geoffrey!" I frowned."I've warned you about this type of thing before. You can't have truck with women."

"Why can't I have truck with women Tuppy?"

"I explained all that already."

"No you didn't. I don't understand, at all."

"You're getting uppitty now Geoffrey."

"Oh I don't know why I'm even sitting here freezing my nuts off and being bossed around and sneered at! After all, I'm a gull, and I've got wings. BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

And with that, Geoffrey flew high into the lowering grey sky, and headed who knows where.

Meanwhile, back on the boat...

"Ye've goat room fur wan mare noo ah see."

Frigging hell.

A Tom Jones sing-a-long in the sea

Well here we are waiting to be rescued. Apsley said he's sending for help - god only knows how long that will take. Meanwhile to keep our spirits up we're having a wee sing-a-long.

#"Well sheez all yood ever wan' sheez god stahl sheez god grace sheez a winner"# I began, clicking my fingers and standing up in the liferaft.

"Stop it Tuppy!" commanded the T-G. "You'll capsize us. Sit the frig DOWN. Besides, you're doing it all wrong. It goes like THIS.

(he coughed)

#Well sheez all yood evva wan' sheez the kahnd yood lahk to flaunt an' take to DINner#"

"NO NO NO NO NO!" boomed a voice from nearby. "YOU'VE got it wrong an' all."

"Who the frig's that?" I muttered. "Oh my God. It's Spockfingers. He must have..."

"Yes! I've survived the blast and here I am large as life and twice as nasty. You lot are pants at Tom Jones. Here's how it SHOULD be sung." Spockfingers approached the boat at an impressive rate of knots. Apparently, he was still passing wind, and it was acting like a kind of crude but highly effective and convenient form of jet propulsion, enabling him to not only stay afloat but to travel about in the water at will. He began to circle the boat, singing as only he can sing (see post about me and Spockfingers in the belly of the beast, to find out just how powerful his voice is...)

#"Well sheez all yood evva wan' sheez the kahnd o' burd they'd lahk tae flaunt an' tak' fur CHI-ips

Sheez the kahnd o' burd whit likes her plaice

sheez got salt sheez got broon soss...

Sheez a winner..."#

"Frigging hell. Make him shut up, someone."

#" Shee kin tak' whit ah dish oot an' that's no eezy

She's fine an' breezy...

Her feet R cheezy..."#

"Oh - an' by the way - yooz lot didnae contribute SHIT fur the sick and poorly weans in Africa. Yeez are a bunch o' stingy bastards. Ah'll deal wi yooz la'er. Noo piss aff an' let em feenish ma sang.

#Oh she et ma fish an chips an' removed ma orange pips

Sheez a lady...

wo wo wo

She's...#"

I think that's QUITE enuff of that jist fur the noo. I'll go and shampoo my sporran now.