Reflections - Willie, Myself and Cyril Nosecone - Part One

I feel like writing tonight, Willie.

Perhaps, I thought, we need to take some time to stop and reflect on what has happened on the island this past last year, Willie.

Sit down on yer bunk and let me refresh your memory. It’s all been a bit hectic, 2005, hasn’t it?

Remember back around October 2004, when we were on Douglas MacLean’s web site and I told everyone about you and me…“Woodworm Willie, the local undertaker, and my good self are awfie fond of a large dram and a blether while we build the coffins and invent innovative ways to steal the local salmon, an occupation that the law on the mainland often calls ‘poaching’. Here we call it ‘fishing’.”

Ach eye, Woodworm Willie, those were the days. Then I think I said “Apart from a good trade blending local whisky, myself and Woodworm also own the only illicit supply of fuel on the island, since we don’t have any of your fancy gas stations here on The Island. A good dram poured into Willie’s bottomless tankard will often buy you enough petrol to take you at least to the ferry terminal and back again. I might also mention, though, that if you frequent the ferry terminal on The Island then you might want to keep a watchful eye out for ‘Daft Uisdean’ who is prone to exposing himself there.”

Aye, our Daft Uisdean can be a handful, so he can, Willie. So, I continued, “Woodworm and myself thought that Uisdean was exposing himself due to the little b#@tard having a complex because he had no dad. But, low and behold, right here on Douglas MacLean’s web site, last Christmas we found Daft Uisdean a father. Cyril Nosecone stepped up to the plate and claimed Daft Uisdean as his own boy, during a recent trip to the island. However, despite Cyril’s introduction to his daft boy, Uisdean, the lad still walks the jetty wall, laughing, with his tadger hanging oot.”

And wasn’t it chist from that point on that you, me and Cyril Nosecone became such good friends, Willie?

Well, it’s late here on the Island, Willie, and it will be lights out for you, too, in the prison, so I’ll continue the reminiscences tomorrow for you.

Goodnight Willie!