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.