The Selkie's Tales

I'm Not Saying Mum Had Favourites, But...

2009-06-20T15:16:00.002+01:00

we always knew when my oldest brother was coming home for a visit, because suddenly there would be real butter and Nescafé coffee in the house!

And then she'd bake oven scones... which, if any of the rest of us tried to nick when they were hot and fresh out of the oven, we'd get our fingers walloped and told to "Get the hell out of those!"... but The Golden Child could waltz in, go off with 6, and Mum would half-jokingly say "Leave those alone", before going back to her mixing.

Don't get me wrong... I love my brother... but it was funny!

The Incredible Hulk

2008-09-18T14:00:00.000+01:00

My brothers were incredibly evil to their peedie sister when I was a kid (let's face it, sometimes they still are)...

When I was small, we used to sit watch "The Incredible Hulk", and I was okay with it... until he started to go green and transform! At that point I had to dash out of the room and hide out at the bottom of the stairs, asking "Is he changed back yet?"

At this point my brothers would go, "Yes, you can come back in."

And back in I would come, to see him still larger than life, and scary green (I think we had a coloured tv by then) - causing me to squeal and run out again!

G & D will probably deny this ever happened, but I'm sure I remember it...

A Daddy's Girl

2008-08-02T15:00:00.000+01:00

Me aged about 6 months with my dad.

My Introduction To Snuff...

2008-07-29T17:13:00.004+01:00

No, not the movies! This stuff: Wikipedia: Snuff

When I was wee, I would see my Dad take out this little tin of stuff that he kept in his pocket, take the lid off and take a pinch of whatever was inside... which he'd then put to his nostril and sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiff, before putting the lid back on, and the tin returned to his pooch.

Well, this fascinated a wee selkie, so one day roughly the following conversation was carried out:

Ally: Daddy?
Dad: Yes?
A: What's that stuff?
D: It's snuff
A: Can I have a smell?
D: Okay, but take ca...

He never got to finish his sentence, because I had stuck my nose above the tin he was holding out, and taken a HUGE sniff in!

Now, snuff in those days didn't come in all those faffy fruit flavours that Wikipedia lists - It was good old-fashioned menthol & camphor!

Dad says the sun was shining just right, and he saw this stream of brown particles travelling between the tin and my nose... and seconds later I was coughing, sneezing, and my eyes were watering like mad!

I NEVER asked to try his snuff again!

Aw, Nuts!

2008-07-25T17:16:00.005+01:00

I'd wiped this one from my memory, but was reminded about it last night.

Myself and probably all of my brothers and sisters have suffered this one when we were young...

We'd come in, and my late Mum would offer us a wee handful of nuts - usually hazelnuts - which we would happily take and munch away on... hardly giving a passing thought as to why the nuts were warm...

But then, as we each got a bit older, we would discover the truth.

See, Mum had a lump on her gum when she was comparatively young, and she had to have all her teeth out - and this lump meant that she couldn't wear false teeth (can you see where I'm going with this?)...

So, she would have a bar of chocolate with nuts in... (yep... you're getting there... I can tell) suck all the chocolate off... and spit out the nuts as a "treat" for her children! (Ewwww!)

Why she didn't just buy chocolate without nuts, I'll never know!

Snow Joke...

2008-05-13T17:34:00.003+01:00

I missed this one, but Mum often used to laugh about it...

Apparently, one day in the dead of winter, all ice & snow, Mum & Dad had walked me to school (not sure what age I would have been... probably about 6 or so), and were returning home again.

Mum was walking a few steps ahead of Dad, who kept saying to her "Watch your feet, D... It's really slippy, and you might fall".

She says the next thing she was aware of, was a pencil went scudding past her feet where she was walking - so she turned round... to see my Dad sat on his erse on the road where he'd slid and fallen!

She said she couldn't help him up for laughing... but I don't think he was so amused!

O'Level English Composition

2007-12-31T19:40:00.000Z

Character Study

The pub door opened and everyone turned to look at the figure that walked in. He staggered into the pub and draped himself over the bar. His beady, round eyes took in his surroundings and after a moment or two he raised his sweaty palm to summon the barmaid. She walked warily over to the stranger. He was smiling broadly, dribbles running down his stubbly chin.

“Pint o’ bitter an’ a nip o’ whisky please, darlin’”

She wished deep down that she had the bravery to order him out but, resigning herself to the fact that she was a coward, she set his drinks on the bar.

“That will be £2, please.”

“There you go, darlin’, keep the change.” He handed her a tenner and she returned with his eight pounds change.

“Look, darlin’… I telt you, keep the change,” he shouted loud enough for the whole bar to hear him. They all looked round at him and he shifted his bulk to return their stares. “Nosy twerps… can’t keep their noses oot o’ folks’ business…” he muttered.

The barmaid kept pressing his money into his hand and he suddenly flew into a rage, breaking glasses and sobbing…

“Nobody listens to Tom… nobody cares about Tom…” His round, pink face grew red and he seemed to settle, but a minute after he started talking to himself again…

“Old Tom’s wife died last year… Old Tom’s 63 and lonely, nobody cares about old Tom…”

By now the barmaid was worried, but the manager was out. He wouldn’t be back till tomorrow, she was on her own.

“Old Tom’s got no job, old Tom was sacked twenty years ago. Match factory didn’t want Tom… Didn’t want old Tom…”

He sat on the stool, his vast bulk balanced on the neat seat of the stool as though he was afraid he might fall off, but was determined to sit there and not to move.

“Would you like me to call a taxi to get you home, sir?”

The barmaid was trying to get rid of him – He knew it and she knew it, but she didn’t care. He was just another sad drunk… She had seen many of them in her time.

“You wants to get rid of old Tom. Old Tom came from Edinburgh to find his son because he ain’t got no home to go to. Old Tom’s lonely… Let me talk to you.”

The barmaid couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so she poured him a pint and smiled.

“On the house, Tom”

Tom looked at the pint, then the barmaid.

“I ain’t no charity case,” he said, then set the money on the bar, “… ain’t no charity…”

He downed the pint and the barmaid smiled as he clung to the remnants of his shattered pride. Then he picked himself up off the stool, shook the barmaid’s hand and walked out.

The barmaid was relieved to see the old atmosphere return to the pub now that the focal point of the evening had walked out the door.

Another Story

2007-12-31T19:32:00.000Z

Another of my compositions from O'Level English - This time we had to pick a proverb or saying and write a story to illustrate it. I chose:

Honesty Is The Best Policy

“Sitting here in my room at the hospital, I realise that honesty really is the best policy. Let me tell you my story…

It all started 5 years ago, when I started taking drugs – just a little to start off with, then it got more and more. Everyone noticed there was something wrong, but I got them to believe I was okay, eventually. If only I hadn’t, I could have got help – then I wouldn’t be feeling like this. Anyway, I started “borrowing” money from my mum or dad (I didn’t have a job, no one wanted me to work for them). Mum and dad noticed that money was disappearing, but no one suspected me. Soon my family was beginning to feel the strain. My mum and dad argued and finally divorced, and dad got custody of my sister. He started to knock her about and shortly after that she jumped out of their 14th floor window… She was dead when she hit the ground below, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t even go to the funeral because I was lying stoned in an alley at the time.

About a year ago I suffered a nervous breakdown. So now I’m in a mental ward suffering severe trauma and withdrawal symptoms.

So don’t anyone tell me that honesty isn’t the best policy.”

Feb ’87 – O’ Grade English Composition

2007-12-29T20:14:00.000Z

At The Hospital

Mary picked her bunch of roses off the table and smiled to herself. She really must stop being so stupid. It was only a hospital she was going to, after all, and she had no need to be afraid. She wasn’t even the patient.

She closed the door of her flat and checked that it was locked then started off down the stairs. At the bottom, she checked her appearance in the mirror next to the unused coatstand. Then she opened the main door and stepped outside where a cool breeze seemed to calm her nerves a little. When she arrived at the bus stop she was almost looking forward to seeing her mother. The bus drew up and she got on. Just her luck, she didn’t have any change, only a tenner. Then she discovered that there were no seats left, so she had to stand squashed between a man with B.O. and a large, very busty woman, who coughed and wheezed all the way to the hospital. Mary got off the bus and realised that her pretty, sweet-smelling flowers were squashed and broken.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath and walked around the corner. There was the hospital, looming large and unnervingly white against the grey of the nearby houses. Her veneer of confidence was shattered in an instant, and she felt her knees go to jelly as she reached the door. She pushed it open and felt physically sick when the waft of disinfectant came to her nose.

Steeling herself, she stepped inside and started to walk up the corridor. It was very quiet, and she heard the echo of her heels clicking up to the flower shop. There she bought another bunch of roses and a few carnations. Those were her mother’s favourite flowers and always had been.

After leaving the flower shop she called at the reception desk and waited ‘til the nurse came to her assistance.

“Can I help you?”, the nurse smiled, and Mary thought what a stupid question. Of course she wanted help. She wouldn’t be there if she didn’t!

“Yes, I’m looking for Mrs Taylor. Could you tell me what ward she’s in, please?”

“Certainly. She’s in Ward 24a.”

“Um… could you tell me where that is, please?”

The nurse smiled at Mary’s stupidity.

“Yes. You go straight ahead for a bit then turn second left, first right and it’s the 4th door on the left.”

“Right… Um, thanks… Bye.” Mary went straight ahead – then got totally lost. Was it first left, second right or second left, first right? Eventually she found the right ward and settled herself down in a chair next to her mother’s bed.

“Hello, mum. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, dear. My neck’s playing me up again though.”

“Sorry to hear that. By the way, I got a letter from Mrs Smith today. She’s coming in to this hospital as well, and she’ll be in this ward beside you.”

“Oh, what’s happened to her then?”

“I don’t know, she wouldn’t say in the letter.” Mary was starting to feel queasy again. Hospitals and graveyards always made her feel funny, and she supposed that the one was a natural progression from the other. “Listen mum, I really must go.”

“Oh dear, must you? I do so look forward to your visits. The hours pass so slowly in here, and I get so bored on my own.”

Mary couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, so she decided to relent and stay ‘til the end of visiting time, however much it hurt.

“Okay, mum… I’ll stay with you for a little while. Just a little while, though. You know how much I hate hospitals. If only Susie hadn’t had to go to hospital, she wouldn’t be dead now.”

Susie had been Mary’s best friend. She was involved in a car crash when she was 18 and had been taken to the hospital with a broken back. By sheer incompetence on the part of the doctors, she had died.

“Don’t be silly, dear. That was only an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t! IT HAPPENED TO MY BEST FRIEND!”

“Ssh, dear. You’re shouting.”

“I’m sorry, mum. But it’s true.”

Just at that moment a doctor passed by.

“Doctor, could you come here, please?”

“Certainly, Mrs Taylor. What can I do for you?”

Mary’s mother whispered to the doctor and he smiled, then took Mary by the elbow and led her out of the ward.

“Wh – Where are you taking me?”

“To meet someone special.”

“Who?” Mary was puzzled and started to struggle.

The doctor led her into another ward and up to a little girl of about 10 years old.

“What’s wrong with her then?” asked Mary.

“She has a broken back. Isn’t that right, Katy?”

Katy replied very shyly, “Yes.”

The doctor went out quietly and left Mary and Katy talking.

About a quarter of an hour later Mary came into her mother’s ward again and told her mother all that Katy had told her.

“She made me see that the hospital doctors that treated Susie were unfortunate cases who couldn’t help her in time. You are in very good hands here, mum, and I have no need to worry about you at all. You’ll be just fine.”

Mary’s mum smiled.

“I really must go now and make my tea,” said Mary.

“Bye, darling. See you tomorrow?”

“You bet, mum.”

Mary walked out of the hospital as though she was walking on air. She was looking forward to seeing her mother the next day… and Katy too.

A Dog's Tale 3

2007-05-15T13:31:00.000+01:00

And another scar, but our own dog this time.

When I was about 12 or so, we had a black lab/alsation cross called Lucky, who had one or two behaviour issues (he was okay with us, but we finally had to have him put down, because we couldn't risk him around people).

Well, one lovely sunny day, he was lying at the clothes line with a bone (but I didn't know that at the time). I wandered out and just stroked him on the top of the head and said "Hello, Lucky" - and with a growl, he wheeled round and sank his teeth into my arm.

I had a trip down to the hospital, some paper stitches, and I've got a half inch scar on my right forearm.

But the poor dog was so apologetic afterwards! And I guess it was partly my fault...

A Dog's Tale - 2

2007-05-15T13:25:00.000+01:00

The next doggy story involves my Auntie & Uncle's next dog, a black labrador called Trudy, which I'm in no way responsible for the death of!

But she is responsible for the small scar and bald bit (which you can't see) on my head.

When I was probably about 4 or 5, one summer we were out on holiday again, and I was playing with Trudy with her favourite toy, a burst football. Well, I held it up above my head, and she jumped up on me to get it - knocking me over, and I bashed my head off the jagged top of a drystone dyke!

It bled like a bugger, and there was some worry about if I was concussed or not (I don't remember much about the aftermath) - because we were on an island, and the hospital was on the mainland. Thankfully, though, I didn't need to be hospitalized.

A Dog's Tale - 1

2007-05-15T13:03:00.000+01:00

And one for which I've felt misplaced guilt for a looooooooooooooooong time:

The photo below is me, aged about 2, with my auntie & uncle's dog, Lassie. Well, when we were on holiday in Stronsay staying with them, Lassie apparently followed me around everywhere... to the point that Mum used to say that if you wanted to find me, you just had to look for the dog!

The guilt comes in after we went home again... Lassie spent ages going around the place looking for me, until (s)he (I can't remember what sex Lassie was) heard a kid's voice out at the front of their shop.

As a result, the poor dog raced out onto the road and was killed.

Duck!

2007-05-12T14:40:00.001+01:00

A story from my Dad that always "quacked" me up (sorry...)

When he was a young man, he invested in some ducks (alive), and was going to keep them in a run in the family yard.

Well, he arrived with his ducks in boxes, opened them up, got them in the run - and the ducks promptly flew away! They hadn't had their flight feathers trimmed!

Dad, his pal, and 2 of my aunties had to go duck hunting to get them back again!

Screams In A-bun-dance!

2007-05-12T10:20:00.000+01:00

I've got an evil brother...

When I was small, we were visiting my Auntie & Uncle in Stronsay. It was a meal time, and I was enjoying my pudding of a creamy cookie. "Yum, yum, yum" went Ally, until D decided it would be a good idea to nudge my arm.

*Splut* I got a nose-full of cream, and my cookie moment was ruined... apparently I just went ballistic, screaming and crying in fury.

He still thinks it was really funny, 30 years later!

Ally... Beauty Queen...

2007-05-11T13:20:00.000+01:00

Heh, you'd never believe it to look at me now, but when I was just about a year old, I won a baby contest!

It was part of a week long gala thing here.

Here I am with my prize of 2 pictures, which I've still got.

It's all been downhill since then!

On First Meeting Me...

2007-05-11T13:02:00.000+01:00

My Granny took one look at me and said "Who's her father? A Norwegian from down the pier?"

I had really curly, dark brown hair and brown eyes...

What kind of welcome is that for a poor wee baby? No fussing over me and saying "What a bonny peedie thing" - No, instead I get doubts over my parentage!

(And, no... it wasn't a Norwegian!)

What's a Blackening?

2007-05-09T19:19:00.000+01:00

And why they scare me.

What happens during a blackening?:

www.orkneyjar.com/tradition/weddings/blacken.htm

What does one look like?:

www.orkneycommunities.co.uk/imagelibrary/picture/number2341.asp?st=blackening

And why does this scare me so? For many years I had no idea... I just knew if I so much as heard the noise of one, I couldn't go outside in case I met it... I used to dive down lanes, into shops, anything I could to not see one pass.

But then I was told this story...

Apparently, when I was just a baby... a year and a bit or so... I was sitting on a low dyke across the road from our house with Mum & Dad. Now, at this time, we lived across from the pier in Kirkwall, and firmly in the pub district. Well, a blackening drove past (it was a bride-to-be) and a woman on the back of the lorry knew my Dad. The lorry stopped, and she jumped down, drunk as a skunk, making a helluva racket and covered in molasses, feathers, flour and god knows what else... and grabbed my Dad.

Well, I must have thought that this vision from Hell was trying to take my Daddy away - because I screamed and started howling!

The woman was severely apologetic and so sorry she had upset me... but it appears the damage was done!

I still don't like blackenings, but I can actually look at one as it passes now.

My Earliest Memory...

2007-05-09T19:14:00.000+01:00

... was while we were visiting my grandparents and auntie & uncle in one of Orkney's North Isles, and I was only just 2.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and we'd all gone for a picnic to a beautiful beach. I don't know whether we'd been in a hurry when we left, or what, but I was giggling because my Granny was sitting on her bum on the sand with her slippers on!

"I Can Do 'At"

2007-05-09T18:10:00.000+01:00

Apparently, this is what an approximately 2-year-old Ally used to say while watching gymnastics and ice-skating on TV!

FORE!

2007-05-07T19:24:00.000+01:00

2 Golfing Tales - Both involving my brother!

First one... We were having a family picnic at a quiet Orkney beach a good few summers ago, and my brother D and nephew N were playing with a golf club and ball way down the shore near the water's edge, and Ally was sitting on a rock higher up the beach, with my walkman on, listening to some music... family dotted around in the near vicinity...

Suddenly, there was an almighty explosion of heat and pain across my forehead - my brother had hit the golf ball, which had gone up, up, up, up, up... and then down, down, down, down and hit me right on the top of the head! I still don't know if they had tried to warn me or not, since I was plugged in and in a world of my own!

Bloody hell... it hurt! And I had half the family laughing, and my Dad asking how many fingers I was holding up and worrying about concussion!

Second story takes place at my sister F's farm, on another lovely sunny summer's day... Brother D and nephew N were once again playing with golf club and ball, the length of a field away from my sister's big bay window, with its single wooden upright separating 2 great big panes of glass. D took a swing at the ball, and watched it fly through the air with the greatest of ease... directly towards the window!

D panicked, my sister panicked, everyone panicked...

And, believe it or not, the ball hit right on the wooden upright... and the window survived!

I think we all learned that day that relief is brown!

Goats Are EVIL...

2006-12-19T17:58:00.000Z

They simply are, and you will never persuade me otherwise.

Picture the scene... a young Ally is visiting her sister F on the farm, along with some of the rest of the family, and her elder brother G (who is really into photography at this stage) decides it would be a good idea to get a photo of Ally with F's goat, Daisy.

Ally is assured that Daisy is a good goat, and won't bite or anything, so Ally (in her fetching blue tartan trousers) stands beside Daisy - who is tethered by a length of rope - all ready to get her photo taken.

However, just as brother G has got the shot lined up perfectly and is about to press the shutter button to take the photo, Daisy quite leisurely walks round Ally, pulling the rope tight around her ankles, and then proceeds to walk away... leaving nature to take its course, and Ally lands on her erse in a muddy puddle - while brother G continues taking bloody photos!

I swear that goat laughed!

So, goats are evil in animal form...

ps. G still has the photos, but won't let me see them!

I Want To Tell You A Story....

2006-11-05T22:41:00.000Z

Hiya, and welcome to The Selkie's Tale... a place for me to bore you silly with anecdotes and silly stories from when I was young, and tales from my family that have made me laugh over the years.

So, come in, grab a cuppa and settle down...

Oh, and feel free to chip in yourself via comment.