Rabbie Burns, George Bush, and Church Bells

As it was the 250^th anniversary of Rabbie Burns’ birthday last Sunday, I thought I would give the great man a mention in my ramblings. Having been taught in Scottish schools in the 50s and 60s, I was one of those unfortunates who weren’t given lessons in Scottish history, literature, or culture –we were only colonists in this great British Empire after all, and should be indoctrinated in all things English.

The Scottish media carried innumerable stories about the Bard last week, and all that coverage reminded me of a story I’d heard back in 2005. The G8 Summit was being held in Gleneagles, Scotland, and George W. Bush, quite a man with words himself, went to visit patients in a nearby hospital. In one of the wards, he went round greeting the patients, asked them how they were getting on etc, and was answered by each one with such snippets as:-

“Fair fa your honest sonsie face, Great chieftain o the puddin race”, “Some hae meat an canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But we hae meat an we can eat, So let the Lord be thankit.”, and “Wee sleekit, cowerin, timorous beasty”.

What he thought of it all was not mentioned, but I do know that he didn’t go around the White House saying that he’d been to the Serious Burns Unit.

Back to the present time, or maybe not. It was reported a couple of days ago that the timepiece at All Saints Church in Sudbury, Suffolk, which is nearly 130-years-old, recently began striking 13 times. George Orwell's famous parable on fascism and the erosion of freedom famously begins, of course, with Big Brother time striking 13. Could this be a sign of what our government is doing nowadays, with any privacy we had slowly being eroded?

Anyway, the report continues, “Neither the vicar or clock builders can get to the bottom of the inauspicious chime.” Well, I can understand the vicar trying to sort things, but the clock builders? I’m not sure that it would be safe for them to climb up there, given the amount of time that they seem to have been drawing their Old Age Pensions.

Coffee, Ghosts, Bush, and Birds

After a year of being told that just about everything that we eat is bad for us, I see that coffee has now been added to the list of dangerous substances. A new study suggests that people who take in the caffeine equivalent of three cups of brewed coffee (or seven cups of instant) are more likely to hallucinate. I usually have about twenty cups of instant a day, so, assuming that I’m supposed to see a ghost, or something similar, after eight cups, I should be in contact with two and a half of those spectres per day. I’ve already had my daily chat with two of them, and I think I saw the half disappearing into a bedroom — I’m not sure if it was the upper or lower half, as I was so confused. Of course, maybe this study sheds some light on what George W. Bush was drinking when he saw the weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

No hallucinations with my next gripe, though. A year last summer, I painted my garden wall coping slabs a nice brick red colour, and by the time May 2008 had arrived, they were in a mess with bird droppings of a white hue. I thought that this could easily be remedied, so last summer I was in Picasso mode again, and painted them white. However, they are in a mess again, this time with mostly black deposits. I feed those birds really well throughout the winter, and this is how they repay me! In spite of that, I am very fond of our feathered friends, and there is no truth in the rumour that I’m about to buy a couple of snakes in order to solve the problem, as happened on an island in the western Pacific. 

In the mid-1940s, the brown tree snake was accidentally introduced to what was then snake-free Guam. This snake became Guam's new top predator and ate its way through a buffet of the island's bird community. As a result, 10 of the island's 12 forest bird species are now extinct on Guam and the two surviving forest bird species remain only in tiny, localized populations where snakes are controlled. Guam's now silent forests currently hold about 13,000 snakes per square mile.

I vaguely recall that there are sayings about "a bird in the hand is worth two in the Bush", and "a snake in the grass", but I cannot seem to make a connection at the moment. Confusion reigns – I really do have to cut down on the caffeine.

Freddie Goodwin, Banks, Birds, and Stripper

Airdrie Bank and Sir Freddie Goodwin

The good folk of Airdrie in Scotland must be scratching their heads in bewilderment this week. After all, it’s only very recently, 2002 in fact, that Airdrieonians FC, their football team founded in 1878, had to fold due to bankruptcy, with debts approaching £3 million. Fortunately a local man, Jim Ballantyne, bought out the ailing side Clydebank, relocated the club to Airdrie, and a new club was born, with the name Airdrie United.

It now seems that the Chief Executive of Airdrie Savings Bank, Britain’s smallest, is to open a new branch in South Lanarkshire, and is considering disgraced Sir Freddie Goodwin for the manager’s post. This is the guy who was forced to quit the Royal Bank of Scotland last year, when the Government stepped in with an emergency bailout. RBS revealed earlier this week that Sir Fred’s acquisition of Dutch rival ABN AMRO would cause record losses of £28 billion for 2008. Compare this to the £790,000 profit that the Airdrie bank made for that year.

Surely the 60,000 customers and 103 staff of this small but successful bank, must be hoping that Jim Lindsay, the Chief Executive, is talking tongue in cheek. Otherwise, they might as well splash out on bigger mattresses sooner rather than later.

Stripper’s Shoe

A nightspot is being sued for £18,000 by a man who was hit on the nose by a stripper’s platform shoe. The lawsuit alleges that the XTC nightclub management allowed the dancers to wear “improper attire”, and asked strippers to perform dances that made the stage a “hazardous area”. Yusuf Evans, from Ohio, claims that he has had difficulty in breathing since then. Given the nature of the entertainment, methinks that he had difficulty in breathing even before the shoe made contact.

Bird Count

The annual bird count is now upon us. I wonder if I should include the blond neighbour on my left, and the brunette who resides on my right?

Presidents, Geese, and Nicknames

On Tuesday, as George W. Bush made his way to Texas and hunting pastures new, it's good to know that the new President was tucking into pheasant and duck, part of his first meal since taking office. Goose was missing from the menu, as it seems that the birds destined for the Presidential table were prematurely cooked after being sucked into the engines of Airbus A320 on the previous Thursday.   

The Captain of the plane has rightly been praised for his skill and enterprise in bringing it down safely on the Hudson River, with no loss of life involved. Something to be expected, I guess, from a guy whose IQ was deemed high enough for him to join Mensa International at the age of 12, and who graduated from Denison High School, Texas, near the top of his class of about 350.

His name intrigues me -- it is one of those with numbers included, which is a very American thing; Chesley Burnett Sullenberger III, presumably to distinguish him from older members of the clan with the same name. I think it would have been an excellent idea in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland over the past couple of centuries, as there were so many members of each family with the same moniker. Instead of using that simple system of numbers, and sounding rather grand, we invented nicknames.  

Men, Mars, and Methane

"What can you conceive more silly and extravagant than to suppose a man racking his brains, and studying night and day how to fly?" This was said by English author William Law, in a Senior Call to a Devout and Holy Life, 1728.

Well, although it seemed inconceivable at that time, it has happened, as well as man making it to the moon. However, Mars is a different proposition, and yet there are folk out there racking their brains in order to find out if it can sustain life etc. Only last week, the boffins at NASA were excited because they reckon they've found large quantities of methane gas on the planet. 

Whilst most countries in the Western World are in recession, or heading that way, surely no sane government would sanction spending billions to be wasted on a doomed mission. After all, they obviously don't like us out there anyway. Beagle 2 was launched from Mars Express on 19th December 2003, and the good folk of Mars allowed it to land on the 25th. Presumably they were delighted with their Christmas present. Some POSSIBLE signals were picked up from it until 12th January 2004, then Zilch! They obviously started to take the toy apart. Some scientists, it seems, had thought of building and sending a Retriever 1 to find it, but fortunately, reason prevailed.

I did happen to meet two of the planet's inhabitants once (in a pub on Glasgow's Kelvingrove Street), and I can verify that they weren't impressed with our way of life, and especially our football. Mind you, it was a Saturday afternoon, and they had just left a Partick Thistle game.

Anyway, if those bods are so keen to get a hold of some methane, surely it would be faster and cheaper to pay a visit to the nearest dairy farm.

 

Useless and Costly Surveys

A recent survey found that as much as 6% of the world’s population may experience sleep paralysis, the inability to move and speak for several minutes after awakening. I think maybe that quite a few of that 6% are probably MPs, senators etc. worldwide, the only difference being that some of them seem to experience the phenomenon 24/7. 

It seems that forty percent of American adults cannot fill out a bank deposit slip correctly. Now we know the real cause of this credit crunch. It couldn’t have been the dodgy fatcat bankers after all.

 

66% of men wear briefs, 22% wear boxers, and 6% prefer to toddle about without wearing any. From those results, I can only assume that the person who carried out the survey was not an accountant, or the missing 6% were admiring themselves in front of a mirror, sporting their wives’ smalls.

 

This one takes some beating. After careful research, it’s been discovered that most humans can guess someone’s sex with 95% accuracy just by smelling their breath. After all those years, now I know why doctors can confidently shout, “It’s a boy!” so soon after a birth takes place.

Numbers, Odd and Sensible

I’ve always watched “Countdown” on Channel 4 whenever I’ve had the chance. Carol Vorderman was simply a whizzkid with the figures, and I was curious as to how the new girl, Oxford maths graduate Rachel Riley, would do this week.  It’s early days yet, and the jury’s still out.  I’m sure that she’d have managed to work out the following equation faster than I did, anyway. As there hasn’t been any solar power around for the past few days, I couldn’t use my calculator, so had to use a page of my precious A4 paper:--  111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

 

Still on numbers, but I think the following quote, told to me by a friend from Texas, is easier to take on board.
”There's two theories to arguin' with a woman, but neither one works.”

Derek Riordan Loses Sweetie Money

Derek Riordan, the Hibs footballer, is in the news again. He’s scored another hat-trick? Unfortunately not. Only last November, he was caught trying to get into an Edinburgh nightclub for the fourth time, whilst having a 2 year ban imposed on him to stay out of all the ones in the city.

 

Today, he’s appeared in court charged with breaking the 70 mile an hour speed limit, whilst driving an “extremely high performance” BMW6 series car. After pleading guilty, he had 3 penalty points added to his licence, and fined the astronomical sum of £300.

His defence agent had argued that “the footballer needs his licence to drive to the Hibs stadium at Easter Road in Edinburgh, and to the club's training ground.

It is also important that he be able to drive for his personal safety, she said, as he is a relatively high profile figure in Edinburgh.

It is far more desirable that he be able to travel in his own car than suffer taunts by travelling on public transport.”

If he’s so worried about being taunted by the public, or, as is more likely, public transport is not good enough for him, why doesn’t he use taxis? I’m sure there’s enough loose change in his pockets to cover it.

More importantly, why don’t those JPs, Sheriffs, and Magistrates get a grip, and deal with so called celebrities in the same manner as they deal with us lesser mortals?  

2009 -- Bliadhna Mhath Ur!

You will have noticed that most of my blog posts for last year are missing--this is due to the fact that my kitchen table is full of suits. Unfortunately, they are not of the type that one can wear; they are, in fact, of the legal variety. Men in dark glasses (I'm not sure if I'm allowed to write "dark") have warned of dire consequences if I didn't delete some scribblings that seemed to offend folk with gentle dispositions. Being a nine stone weakling, naturally I simply had to comply with their wishes. However, some juicy morsels are bound to appear throughout this year again. In the meantime, I wish you all the traditional Scottish toast, "Slainte Mhath!"

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Windfarms and Birds

About a year ago, news broke that The Scottish Government was set to refuse the Lewis Wind Power windfarm. In a letter to developers AMEC, Scottish ministers had confirmed that they are minded not to grant planning permission for the massive development. Of course, many islanders were against the proposals, as was shown in various surveys. However, those views were not taken into consideration, it seems. In fact, they came to this decision after being lobbied by environmental bodies, who seem determined to block just about everything  In fact, the government are going to refuse it, not because of any consideration for the lovely, long legged type of bird, but for the feathered kind.

Junk Mail and Helicopters

Well, that's the New Year festivities over for another year. It's now back to the never ending round of bills arriving, by email, telephone, snail mail, and even via some guy with a balaclava pulled over his head, if I happen to be a couple of days late with a payment. Talking of ordinary post, although the bills are bad enough, I notice that unwanted mail is making a comeback in a big way. I think every insurance company in the UK, and beyond, seem to know me well all of a sudden.

A few months ago, my age changed, and a couple of weeks before that momentous event, I received a letter offering congratulations, and in the next paragraph asking me to cough up a measly £37 a month for a Life Insurance policy. It was pointed out to me how great I would feel, knowing that a cash sum would be available for my loved ones,  or to help towards the funeral costs. I suddenly felt that I didn't really feel like getting any older.

Yesterday, it was the turn of one of the Motor Insurance giants, telling me of the advantages of switching my cover to their company as from next month, seeing my premium was due then. Well, I would probably have had a good look at their  terms, especially if  I  was in the position of owning a car. Unfortunately for them,  I gave that up some time ago, when  I decided to  install a  helicopter in my  extended  driveway.  I find it much easier for my island hopping, with no ferries or causeways to deal with. I'm just back from Rockall, to make sure that the Russians have not popped up there to plant their own flag on the island. Of course, Iceland, The Republic of Ireland, and Denmark all claim that it belongs to them as well. You haven't heard of it? Ah, just go to Google, then Wikipedia, and all will be revealed. If you're thinking of spending your holidays in an unusual location, it could be just the place you're looking for, although you'll have to hurry, as bookings are being snapped up fast, according to the main Rockall Tourist Office.

 

 

Gold in those Scottish hills!

Panning for gold is on the agenda in Scotland again, it seems. An Australian company has been selling shares to folk who are willing to open their sporrans in order to fund this enterprise. Back in 1818, of course, a nugget of gold was found in the Helmsdale River, and by 1869, there were around 600 prospectors in Strath Kildonan, based in Baile an Or (Village of Gold) and Carn na Buth (Cairn or Hill of the Tents). Numbers dwindled when the Duke started charging £1 per month for licences, plus a Royalty of 10% on all (declared) gold found. Diminishing levels of finds, plus the fact that the herring season was starting in August, meant that the number had dwindled to about 50 in the autumn. When the Duke realized that his coffers would get richer by fleecing those who came to his estate for fishing and shooting, he banned all prospecting as from 1st January 1870. You can carry out some recreational panning for the stuff nowadays free of charge, although you have to adhere to some strict rules. You'll find a note at the end of the rules stating that panning may be applied for in writing by anyone over 70, accompanied by a named female companion. Presumably, she cannot wait to hit the High Street to get her ring.

Now, to this present day venture by the Australians, and anyone else with some spare moolah. It seems that Scottish gold could be worth 5 times more than the rubbish to be obtained elsewhere. This is partly because it's easier to work, and partly because it's scarcer. Here we have the downside. Gold in Scotland is verry, verry rerr, as we say here. You probably have a better chance of sunbathing with Nessie or having a moonlit cuddle with the Yeti, than you have of finding the yellow stuff. Talking of the Yeti, I once thought that I'd come into contact with its Scottish counterpart in the hills above Loch Ness, but it turned out to be one of Lord Burton's gamekeepers. The bottle of Grouse in my pocket could have had something to do with it, but I blame the mist myself. 

Now, if any of you feel in the mood to do some prospecting, take some baked beans with you--at least, the pan will come in handy at the end of the day.

 

 

Fàilte! Welcome!

Boxing Day 2007

Fàilte gu sgriobhaidhean gòrach bho Donaidh--chaneil fhios cò air a bhios mi a-mach anns na seachdainnean tha romhainn, ach tha mi'n dòchas gun còrd e ruibh co-dhiù. Welcome to Donnie's ramblings--who knows what I'll be on about in the coming weeks, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

As yesterday was Christmas Day, we'd better remember that there are only 365 shopping days left till next Christmas -- not 364 as you might have thought, because next year happens to be one of those Leap ones. Imagine that -- just 365 days left in which to choose presents again, and to get stressed out into the bargain. Of course, in Scotland, we can relax over the next month by celebrating Hogmanay (New Year's Eve to the uninitiated), when those of the male species traditionally go first footing. If you're the first person across somebody's threshold in the New Year, and you have a lump of coal, a bit of cake, some liquid (edible, such as Johnnie Walker) with you, as well as being dark haired (like I am), then that house is supposed to have good fortune for the coming year, and of course, you will be made very welcome. If your genes haven't blessed you with the afore mentioned dark hair, do not fret -- you can always rub the lump of coal into those strands up top, or of course, buy a wig, which will have to be well glued on or stapled, because of the 80 miles per hour gales.

We then spend a couple of days visiting old friends, or being visited by them, or even meeting in the pub if there's one situated between our respective houses. I nearly wrote "respectable houses" -- a bit of a gaffe at this time of year. Normal service is resumed for a few days, that is until the 25th, when we tuck into our neeps and haggis in honour of our National Bard, Rabbie Burns. The above mentioned Johnnie Walker, or one of his associates, is always handy to have around on this date as well. Of course, you can eat haggis on any day of the year, but they taste better at this time, being in season and having been freshly caught. For us, therefore, that leaves only 11 months until Christmas, which is quite a relief. We used to have an Old New Year (if you can work that one out) on the 12th of January, but gave it up, as the other one carries on till then anyway.