General Chat

a nook, (and cranny) to take a rest and recover from the horrors which he had forseen and forsooth.

Then an idea sprang to mind, he would not go to Scotland,land of the brave , he would venture down south to Cornwall to hone his newly found skills in tarrot readings. Along came a

soothsayer who had

just returned from Cornwall and advised him to stay away - keep going to Scotland my man - it's in yer blood!!! so on her trudged feeling he was getting near to home and Nanny - would she be there with some haggis soup and a crouton or two - please let's hope so he thought as night descended - he found a cosy spot beneath a tree on the edge of the forest and

slept the night away and dreamt of the days when he was

a carefree young man with

a full set of neeps. How many young maidens had swooned at his feet, only to awaken as women.

These reminiscences caused a stirring in his sporran. Opening it he found that the squirrel from the oak tree had taken up residence.

With his newly aquired pet (which he could always bbq later, if the need arose) he again turned north and

ran in the direction of the wonderful aroma ,oh possoms ,slowly cooking on the bbq,-------

The smell brought back memories of time spent in the American wilderness. For a fleeting moment he thought of returning there but decided not to as he didn't want to be neepless in Seattle

So pausing only to consume a possum or two, cooked by Dame Edna, he once again

went upon his way,very snail like,he was so weary,his onions were becoming quite heavy again and causing him some considerable agony-----

and his tatties were in turmoil.

He was beginning to think that his quest would never end. For how much longer would he have to carry this burden?

Feeling very sorry for himself he

he stopped at the first pub he came to and had pint of John Smiths that warmed the cockles of his heart and planned his next

move over a counter meal of Black pudding and chips, with a side serving of tripe and onions

At least the food in these northern climes could warm the cockles of your heart.

having satisfied his hunger he

foray. Suddenly it came to him in a quick flash. 'Begorra, I've got it', he exclaimed with excitement. 'I shall head off to the land of the Leprechauns - The Emerald Isle!!' Me old sparring partner, Seamus, will put me up to be sure, to be sure! He dribbled at the thought of the pints of black liquid gold they would share together. 'It'll be just like old times, it will, it will'!!

He hummed to himself, as he set about searching for a fallen tree branch to fashion a shellelagh (a stout knotty stick with a large knob on the end) to protect himself during the long journey and, with that, set off westwards.

'Maybe I'll find that beautiful colleen I met when I was last there, he mused happily as he strode along, swinging his shellelagh - 'now what was her name? Ah yes, I remember - it was Allanah!' All his aches and pains now gone, he started to run . . . . .

and he hadn't done that in a long time so pretty soon he was

flat on his face - he just couldn't run - being neepless had upset his equilibrium, so how could he make it to the emerald isle - not possible he thought so he carried on North to bonnie Scotland - nannie would knit him some new neeps hopefully and all would be calm once more - with this in mind he forged ahead and reached the first loch - he could smell the heather now and

cow pats and thought "ee by ekky thump. This is not Scottish heather, nah lad its irish heather." He had fallen into a portel and found himself in the greenest land this side of Watford, yes he was on a bar stool with a pint of the Irish nectre and a small gang of

leprechauns who were eyeing his onions with envy -----

He glared at them and pointing his shellelagh menacingly, growled 'Keep away from my onions or you'll feel the end of this round your little chops.' They took a step backwards and . . . . .

he thought - what's going on FGS - leprechauns? in Scotland?

it must be one of my senior moments,I get them some times when \i'm