Soaking Tweeds And Heady Drams

08/23/2005

As I sit in Glen Trollaigh this Tuesday watching the rain tip down and listening to the forecast of worse to come I can spend a while in peaceful reflection rather than the planned arduous day on the hill stalking with Lachie and two chums, which only fools or poachers would consider in this weather. I can remember many long days crawling around assorted Scottish mountains in soaking tweeds searching for the perfect shot. Twenty years ago, I yearned for the September camaraderie of fellow stalkers and the smooth, oiled efficiency of the faithful Mauser when the momment came, afterwards the pagan ritual of the Gralloch with the great beast still twitching, followed by many a tale of the dram, or several drams as body heat warmed the rainwater sloshing from neck to boot. Before the sacred momment of the offer of a quaich from the Laird’s favourite flask, many a seasoned stalker will tie up his earflaps, even in the most appalling weather, to avoid the slightest chance that he might miss the well-earned traditional invitation. Now I prefer rough walking and a chance shot in reasonable conditions, or better still my favourite river pools after a few days of heavy rain. I seek the wild gullies, swirling torrents twisted by huge boulders, the peat brown spate water with just a chance of an encounter with “The” fish. Thank God, I have all these pleasures on my doorstep. Rural life presents many problems and we are often misunderstood when we complain of the lack of services demanded by urban couch potatoes who, in turn abuse our rural hospitality with bad manners, rudeness and litter. However, this mutual mistrust pales when I see the blindingly obvious hidden agenda of President Blair to become President of Europe. Only now do a few has-been politicos swing behind the campaign to stop the disbanding of the Scottish Regiments, surely even these fools must realise that the reduction of the Army strength is simply to fit the new Euro-Army of 6000 man units. Will someone please explain to me why have we placed the last shipbuilding contract in Scotland with a Polish yard? sacrificing yet another of our traditional industries to a region of arrivist Europe, which is as we speak under investigation for illegal support of their shipbuilding industry? The only amusing news is watching that poof Lord “Mike” Watson, a Blairite toadie, squirming in the dock accused of setting fire to the curtains at some Scottish Executive piss up in Uphall. I sincerely hope he is shipped off to the Bar-L without delay. Unfortunately, Watson has friends at the highest level, this influence will trigger President Blair’s laughable double standards, and the poof will doubtless avoid detention and the automatic loss of his title and parliamentary seat. On the other hand, might they be brave enough to drop him right in the shit? I do hope so. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.

PS. What a pleasant surprise to hear from Doc Findlay who made me cough on many a bitter day in Tannochbrae. May I reassure you, kind Doctor that I have been following your advise of gentle exercise and moderation in all things. In fact my tum, horizontal or vertical is greatly reduced, particularly since my fortuitous marriage, as conselled by you, to a much younger bride. Please do give us the honour of your company at the Tower of Glen Trollaigh in the near future. Trollaigh.