Darn it! I missed the Sinko d’ Mayo celebrations.You see, Big Maggie Ann called at the croft this morning. (An easterly wind was blowing in off the Minch and I swear Big Maggie Ann could smell our food cooking from over her side of the hill.)
Mother stirred the cast iron pot on the range. “Have you eaten yet, Big Maggie Ann?” she asked politely, as all mothers do when visitors call.
Judging by the amount of chocolate smeared around Big Maggie Ann’s pudding face, I reckoned she'd eaten plenty.
“Oh, thank you, No,” said Big Maggie. “Are you making a wee strupach, then?” She moistened around her wind-chapped lips with a large, dirty, brown tongue and thundered her arse onto the upright chair by the hearth. The wooden legs squeaked and strained under her weight.
I threw some more peat on the fire, and sighed. Aye, Big Maggie Ann was to be there for the day, so I’d just have to accept it.
What a cheek that big woman has. A “wee strupach” indeed! In my day “strupach” meant a cup of tea and maybe a home-baked scone with butter. Big Maggie Ann arrived at 11 o’clock and after consuming a couple of lightly poached deer, she asked for some dental floss to clean her tooth. “Cleanliness in next to Godliness,” she said, with venison gravy now caked into the remaining chocolate on her hairy chin. I itched to comb it out but I was able to distract myself for a minute or two, reading a short article about Clachnabruich Shinty Team on the sport’s page of the paper.
Big Maggie Ann then devoured two oatcakes with crowdie, four pieces of shortbread, six pancakes dripping in strawberry jam and half a loaf of bread, toasted then spread with dripping. She burped, loudly, and asked me to pass the box of matches, so that she could light up her pipe.
Now I could’ve just left Big Maggie Ann with Mother, and joined Willie and Cyril for a wee drop of cooking whisky down at the Sinko d’ Mayo celebrations, but Mother would’ve given me one of her “looks.” I might be a bachelor but I know that when a woman gives a man the “look” only a foolish idiot would ignore it.
Tell me about the celebrations, Cyril, will you? Did I miss anything spectacular?
3 comments:
You missed the fight, Torquil. An awful stramash, so it was.
Well a wonderful morning was had by all. It was risky cos, people were staring at the drink behind the Bar but wee Polly from Ardbroath couldn't serve any until after 11.30am - so we all talked about what we would like to have drank instead. The Ensemble kicked off with a wee Take That ya Swine song which was warmly received. Polly spoke to evryone about her forthcoming Piano exam and Woodworm Willie thought about another marketing idea...Piano shaped coffins for musicians, but, wee Sammy said that we couldn't bury someone that deep cos we'd hit the Auchtepiddlemosh Pipeline.
There was a bit of an arguement about which Bull fathered the two wee toffee coloured calfs in the big field and there was almost a fight because someone said that one Bull was brought to the island in August and August only, because of restrictions. Anton the Chef says he definitely saw the bull "servicing" several cows in the field earlier in the year. Thats when the fight started cos, Anton was accused of trying to inflate the price of beef and wee Polly was having none of it cos she was a vegetarian - so she came from behind the bar and kneed him - Anton despite being hurt lit a cigarette and was arrested for breaking the smoking ban. Polly closed the bar as the function ended at 11.30am and told everyone to drink up but as there was nothing to drink up everyone left.
The price of beef has not been inflated at all. I'm chust scunnered with you lot complaining aboot the price o beef. A woman has to earn a living now, so she does (especially since that Woodworm Willie buried my Murdo prematurely and me chust a por lonely widdow now.) Any more complaints aboot inflated beef and I'll be contacting the law! You've been warned.
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