TURDS And The Kingdom Of God
12/10/2005
Our period of cold, clear weather ends in a mild, windy, dreich night. This morning the burns are high and our poor Dry Stane Dyker is wading in a muddy goo surrounded by piles of stone delivered by dump trucks from elsewhere in the glen, which have cut parts of the garden into a three dimensional model of the battle of the Somme. Dearest Dottie is surprisingly philosophical about this devastation because firstly, she is secretly delighted to see at least a few of her landscaping plans started, and secondly a mud spattered Lachie has assured her that “the ground always heals”. When I look at the chaotic seas of destruction, I am not entirely sure which generation of Trollaighs will enjoy the benefits! One person who is decidedly unhappy about all the construction work is Mhairi who is forever washing down the kitchen flagstones as several pairs of muddy wellies constantly crisscross the surface and the boot room is hung with dripping foul weather gear, all this added to the continual demands for hot drinks, soup and sustenance. Of course, the seasonal pressure of preparing for the family Christmas bash is also on Mhairi’s mind, you know; puddings, cakes, and things. However, I have warned the girls to keep the numbers down this year, but they always seem to find an inexhaustible supply of frail distant relatives who need fed, watered and sheltered for days, without doing a hands turn at the domestic chores. I have decreed that I must be shown a guest list, and I will be employing a couple of bouncers from Markie Dan’s to expel those “not on the list”.
For some years, the Trollaighs have reluctantly sponsored the Lornvale Junior Football Teams, and a few players have climbed to a satisfactory level of stardom. I am always amazed on the odd occasion that I catch sight of such paragons being interviewed on TV, how these bright, strong lads from Appin, Balvicar or Benderloch seem to have suffered fast track tutoring in the repetitive grunts, groans and unintelligible phrases of Helen Street, Gorgie or Easter Road, to say nothing of stubble, tattoos and body piercing. Imagine my surprise when I received a rather highhanded note from the club committee, advising me that they would be removing the diamond “T” logo from the strips instanter, as The Universal Religious Divinity Symposium, a mini multicultural quango have decreed that our company flag which continues to fly over every ocean, is a Christian Symbol and might offend Muslims. After a couple of Young Ardbegs to steady me, I have penned a calm reply that the club can sing for the £20,000 annual Trollaigh Shipping donation to their funds, unless the headscarves favoured by Scottish Muslim women are banned, as it offends me and several hundred thousand church going Scots. Spin on that Lornvale JFC, say NO to TURDS. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.