Sunday, January 29, 2006
Taanya’s Taxi
01/29/2006
Wonderful weather greets the year of the pickled herring or somesuch in China, by which I mean that we get the good weather and China gets the year of the pickled herring. I have been told that this is to be a particularly favourable year, so I am already looking forward to reaping the benefits.
The first of these might be that my Burns Supper was not quite as unpleasant as I had feared. My taxi appeared driven by Taanya from Poland via Fort William, dressed in a stirring black mini suit and driving a tidy, if high mileage Mercedes. Taanya told me that there is now a major problem between the “local community” in Fort William and the several thousand Poles who have arrived in the area to benefit from the jobs that are available because the “local community” are all on disability benefit. Taanya and her mother and father have now moved to Oban for the quiet life, where the locals are so self centred that one million Turks could move in before they were noticed. The second pleasant surprise was that the committee of the Lodge No69 had cocked-up their Burns Supper arrangements, so that at the eleventh hour their tea was combined with the all-together more noble affair hosted in the revamped Argyllshire Gathering Hall. At this supper most of the great and the good were in attendance as well as real women, they even allowed girls to serve the meal, which was exceptional for the side servings of Stornoway black pudding, a particular favourite of yours truly. I had to give way in my toast to that unspeakable, corrupt “Mac” Armstrong. However, the organisers kindly gave me a few minutes in which to vilify the Scottish Parliament for its lilly livered lack of decision-making. I was able to make a rather witty play on the fact that their last two failures were “bottling out” on legalising euthanasia and their inability to come to a decision of offering free drug prescriptions to all. I did fear that my irony might be lost on the good citizens of Oban; however, I was delighted to see at least one of the MSP’s present quivering with indignation, what utter prats. The organisers very kindly presented me with a bottle of Ardbeg for my troubles, a generous, personal touch, then Taanya swept me home to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh. Everyone was abed, so Taanya gently made sure that I was safely indoors before driving off with a handsome tip. Taanya’s card is now firmly pinned to my notice board and she will be having all my taxi business in the future. Perhaps not too bad a start to the year of the pickled herring. Good night to one and all, Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Bad Burns Night
01/25/2006
Our weather continues fair, as forecast and after a clear frosty night, we enjoy Alpine blue skies with the Tower of Glen Trollaigh bathed in sunlight from 11.30 til 4.00 with the sunset afterglow beautifully clear until after 6.00. However, the snows have retreated to the highest corries and our burns and the River Trollaigh have dropped to a low level. The good weather means that the heavy plant is operating at last, with the Chelsea Gold Medal Winner faxing revised plans on the hour every hour, although we are now beginning to see this great enterprise taking shape.
Tonight is Burns Night and I shudder has I prepare for my traditional toast to the lassies at the Lodge No69 dinner in Oban. I hate this duty as apart from anything else, being a Masonic Lodge there are no lassies, and further I am expected to make a few topical comments. As all this happens twenty four hours after what I am told is the most depressing day of the year, I am not in good humour, particularly as I have to pay for my own taxi and will be bored shitless by some old fool of a driver from Taynuilt or somesuch.
I ponder a couple of topics for my speech and I have to admit that this week has handed a few to me on a plate. 1. The Dunfermline by-election where New Labour have reigned supreme in this ex-mining community for eons, might just prove to be an upset if the SNP can pull their finger out taking advantage of some major gaffs by the Beastly Brown, and as the only other runner, the Liberals have once again shot themselves in the privates. They schemed to sack dear Charlie Kennedy, the Fort William crofter and hugely popular party leader, for admitting to having the odd tipple, then replacing him with an absolutely ancient athlete followed by some idiot who did all sorts of unspeakable things with a rent boy in London. 2. Dear Ronnie Armstrong has tipped me the story behind New Labour’s announcement that they intend to reduce the number of Disability Benefit claimants by one million. Apparently the whole thing comes from the pea brain of John Prescott as he cannot park anywhere within two miles of his constituency offices because every space is taken by a car displaying a disabled driver free parking permit, Ronnie says that fat John has been screaming down the phone to Tony Blair to get something done.
Come to think of it, humorous political tales may not go down too well at Lodge No69, as the entire committee will have been in receipt of Disability Benefit since it was introduced and if they vote at all, they would vote for a monkey in a suite if it stood on a labour ticket. Yea gods, even the grog will be undrinkable. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.