A Scottish Storyteller

Some time ago, I took up another whim! I have many of these whims... Learn to play the fiddle... Learn to draw anime... tabletweaving... the list is endless. The latest one (we shall see if Blogging is just a whim or more permanent) was to learn to play the Bodhran! For those of you that dinnae ken, it's one of those Irish drums - the Scottish Culture and Traditions Association aka SCAT do nightclasses on a monday night, and so I took it up with great enthusiasm. My mum and dad gave me a splendid drum for my birthday last year and I'm really getting into it. Now I was in Ireland last weekend for the wedding of two university friends (more on that later perhaps) and saw this as an excuse for an extra couple of days in Ireland - why not! And here I tell you the exciting story of my new drum. So. I was dropped off and dumped my bags in my hotel and then... headed off to SHOP FOR DRUMS! The confusing way the Dublin streets are laid out had me lost for quite ...

Of course, dad chose just after Christmas Dinner (2000) to tell this story. Just the time of year when you’re eager to hear stories of “Poo.” Dad used to work down at the ship yards, and he tells stories very similar to those of Billy Connelly’s about the toilets there. These were basically cubicles with a trough that run down the line of cubicles. (see B. Connelly for details of lighting little paper boats. Now I come to think of it, dad mentioned this too. Many heads would rise, praire dog style, as the flame warmed their nether reigions”) Anyways, there would come a time in the day in the cold weather when the toilets would be full of unscrupulous gentlemen who would skive the hours away on the lavvies highlighting the horses that would be likely to win any races that day. As a result of this, those who “genuinely needed to use the humble conveniences” would have to nip round the back of the building into the discreet yard behind. Equipped, of course, with some quality bog...

This is a true story that happened to a friend of mine. I'm sure he won't mind me putting it down in writing... Well he'd had a night out in Edinburgh. A few hours and a few drinks later (this part I don't believe, it's much more likely to have been a few buckets) and he and his friends were in the Grassmarket making their way home. Whereupon they come across a stag night. Not your average bunch of pissed-up chavs on their way out of some strip club though - no! These ones are dressed up - not in Burberry, but as cuddly fuzzy furry animals. Awwwww. So my friend gets chatting to this elephant. Great idea for a stag night and all that. Bet you've been getting quite a reaction and all that. So the elephant takes his head off for a bit of a breather and a bit of a chat and my friend asks if he can try it on... He tries the said head on, capers about a bit, and is just handing the elephant it's head back when Blammm! He gets punched in the face! He is kn...

I was reading with great delight in the Fortean Times about a "naked, yeti-like" man that has been spotted near Portsoy. According to FT 189 (Nov 2004), "A woman motorist spotted a naked, yeti -like man on a quiet tree-lined stretch of the B9022 at Brodiesord, about three miles south of Portsoy in Grampian at 9.30 am on 9 August. "The man, described as a muscular six-footer in his late 40's with "considerable" body hair, twice walked in front of her car ahs she drove to work and then calmly strolled into the trees and disappeared. "The woman alerted nearby forestry workers, but despite a search of the woods by them and police officers, who also made enquiries at local farms, no trace of the man was found." The Press and Journal manages to somehow dull it down a bit. See their report here . So either we have our very own yeti! Or one of my ex boyfriends has been out on the lash and had problems getting home... The ...

This is one of my dad's stories which I love begging him to tell me! This one goes back to the 50's/60's when Dad was joinering in Glasgow. His company provided accommodation complete with breakfast and dinner. However his landlady was a bit stingy and used to make them porridge sandwiches which was made from the porridge drawer.* Now, this wasn’t too impressive considering as he was supposed to get the usual meat and veg type diet that joiners and yard workers should be entitled to… (I'm sure you've heard of the legendary scottish diet!) Also her wee dog was what my dad called "a yappy little bugger in need of a good kick" (Not that he would - he likes dogs, my dad does!) There also seems to have been a bit of bad blood between the lodgers and the landlady (perhaps in addition to the porridge sandwiches and yappy dog) so when dad left the establishment, he nailed a kipper under the table! A couple of years later, dad met an old mate of his that ha...

There are many stories in my head about Ghosts in this area... Just don't get me started on Fyvie. I might break into song! I love going on ghost walks. In fact my friend, Jack, and I went all the way to Edinburgh to go on one! - This is the one we were planning on going on - City of the Dead Tours... which covers the Mackenzie Poltergeist and the Covenanters Graveyard (within Greyfriars). but sadly when it got to about 6.30pm, it was BUCKETING down! So we decided not to go. The best thing to read about this site is the testimonies from those who have been on the tours - people faint, freak out, get thrown about or sometimes they simply get home and when they remove their clothes, they're covered in inexplicable bruises and scratch marks! You can access the most recent happenings and past incidents here. We went back the next day and got terrified when a tramp came out of a crypt yawning and stretching :P While we were in Edinburgh, we went to Mary Kings Close - a tour ...

Talking to people at work about coffins (like you do), I remembered a story that was possibly a story dad had told me, or an episode of Steptoe and Son. Of course, it turned out to be a dad-story… In the 70’s there was a big scandal locally where the coffin makers and the cremators at the local crematorium had a bit of a scam going... When a particularly expensive coffin had been commissioned, the body was burnt and the coffin resold. Now apparently this was a bit of a scandal, with lots of people being prosecuted. The fact that Aberdonians were already viewed as thrifty didn’t help. A couple of months after the scandal, dad visited a friend of his where he was led up to the attic where (lo and behold!) a pile of good walnut coffins were stored, away from the magistrates. Eager to get rid of the dodgy wood, his mate sold or gave him this wood, which ended up as a few coffee tables in upper class living rooms throughout Aberdeen. Dad made a high quality tool box from the scraps and ...

I thought I'd blog about one of the higlights of our recent trip to VEGAS! Not a story... but I feel I have to mention it. I wanted to see an Elvis impersonator. I think we felt it really was an essential part of the holiday. So when we passed a sign on the side of the Barbary Coast advertising "Big Elvis"... Well, hey! We were THERE! Wednesday arrived and we had our expectations of Big Elvis. So long as he was Big in some way and Elvis in some way and so long as there was alcohol, slots and a bit of "a humma humma" then by god we'd be impressed. I was never really an Elvis fan... not until my friend, Miss Honey, and I started driving round the scottish countryside looking for castles and stone circles and the like("gallivanting") with Elvis as our soundtrack. And of course it was wee skinny Elvis... But now! Now that Miss Honey and I have grown in our Elvis learnings, I have to say that there's nothing better than good old 197...

Mmmmm! I really want a curry right now. It put me in mind of the first time I went to my usual takeaway... Definitely nothing special to look at (she said, tactfully avoiding libel), but by god they do a good dahnsak. Anyway this first time I was there I was reading the menu while I was waiting for my usual. There on the menu sits a curry known as the "Mrs Baird Special." "Odd" thinks I. I wonder what it was with Mrs Baird? Well about 2 weeks later I was on holiday in America... and the one that ticked the box saying "Moral Terpitude" explained it to me as she'd been told it! The story goes that there's this wifie, Mrs Baird, who'd nivver hid a curry afore. Now this one day she thoucht she'd hae a wee lookie in the curry hoose and she ordered the aene that the mannie thoucht she'd be best startin aff wie. Now Mrs Baird came back a few days later and told them "Weeeelll now. It was awwwwfy fine, ken? Bit i...

My dad's father's folks were from Boddam, just south of Peterhead on the north-east coast of Scotland. Now I can't claim to be any sort of myth-historian but I do know that this story has become quite famous as originating in Hartlepool. Some research suggests that the Hartlepool myth comes from the Boddam version of the story, written in a song which pre-dates the Hartlepool story. A Geordie music hall performer called Ned Corvan is said to have come in to contact with the Boddam song whilst touring and then to have updated the story for his Hartlepool audience. The story goes that in days of old (during the Napoleonic Wars with France) you weren’t allowed to plunder a ship unless there was not a living soul aboard a ship…. The Boddamers used to light fires along the coast so the sailors would think they were light houses and the ships would crash on the rocks. If no living souls were on the boat, the locals were entitled to the plunder… However, there was on this o...

My good friend, the Yeti, was telling me the other day in the pub about one of his presents on his 5th birthday. It was a story book. A rather moral story book. I'm sure you've heard of Struwwelpeter. I had... vaguely... He apparently looks like a welsh friend of mine! :) You see? So he sat in the pub and told us all about how if you suck your thumb, the red-legged scissorman would come along and cut your thumbs off! Look at the pictures! And tell me that wouldn't give you nightmares... Then he told me about The Dreadful Story of Pauline and the Matches. Who set herself on fire and ended up as a bundle of ashes - well I'm bloody sure I'm never trying to light a fire again! Fair enough... for such a story to exist. But for a child to recieve this BOOK OF HORRORS for his 5th birthday? From now on I will stop complaining that my mum told me about the man that lived in the boiler and the woman that lived in the phone... (The man that lived ...

I thought I'd start a blog about one of my favourite things... Storytelling. I do a bit of it in my spare time in a voluntary capacity, but mainly I thought this would be a good way to have a nice wee rant in my spare time - Hah! Oh and perhaps I might write down a few stories I've heard - local, historical and fantastical while I'm at it! I've found a few really good links in the past and this would also be a good way to keep them. So! Gather yourselves round an imaginary fire with a nice hot drink/eye-watering alcoholic beverage of your choice and get yourselves comfortable! The stories will soon begin.