A personal tale of Aberdeenshire's great fiddler, James Scott Skinner.
Who... I'd not even heard of until I decided i was going to learn to play the fiddle! Which some people find rather shocking - but then my parents didn't listen to that sort of music when i was a kid.
I'm not very good at the fiddle... Still just beginning. But back in spring, I was learning to play Music Of Spey.
So, what with the good weather coming in and all, I decided that I'd walk home not through the Duthie Park (like usual) but through the Allen Vale Cemetary - which was all coming out in cherry blossom. I had my personal stereo and it had just come to the end of the album. After the music had stopped I continued walking, and started humming "Music Of Spey" (which Scott Skinner wrote). Then for no apparent reason, I stopped. I stopped walking. Not something I often do, because when I'm walking home from work I usually thunder on and nothing gets in my way!
I wondered why I had stopped, such a very odd thing.
Now I'd never been through the cemetary before and don't know anything about it's, ummmm, "occupants." So imagine my surprise when I found I'd stopped just at the grave of... James Scott Skinner!
My fiddle teacher reckoned he was trying to tell me something... That my fiddle playing (and humming of his music) is "Bloody Awful"
Be prepared ye listeners for an unbridled, fully unrestrained RANT about the substitution in our traditional scottish culture of the beautifully imperfect, purpley/whitey/green, lumpy root vegetable that is THE NOBLE TURNIP for the heinous orange blight on a scottish tradition that is THE PUMPKIN.
Jesus wept.
The reason for my rant was today's visit to Tescos. Yes Tescos... I'm addressing YOU! You have lovely adverts and Yes! We much admire the efforts of the talented Prunella Scales to increase your sales of bargain curries and delicious deli foods... but for GOD'S SAKE!!!
Pumpkins!?!?!
Pumpkins as FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE! And it's not even as if I can rant on and go "pumpkins in all shapes and sizes!" for they are ALL THE SAME SHAPE and ALL THE SAME SIZE! Totally identical! UNIFORM!
But could I find one neep? One beautiful... hairy... knobbly neep? Could I hell. There was a couple of sliced up (butchered! murdered! weeping!) "swedes" in the section labelled "winter vegetables." Swedes my arse! But in the space where in the past my dad and I would have spent ages rummaging for the neep going for the winning vegetable in the "most-astoundingly-full-of-character-and-personality-in-show" section, there was what? Pumpkins. SODDING PUMPKINS! Clean, smooth, utterly personality-free PUMPKINS.
Bloody Americans!
Now don't get me wrong... I love Americans. Truly I do! Some of my best friends are Americans!
And I really LOVE they way they have embraced Hallowe'en and made it their own. But for FECKS sake! Scotland! Can't we just keep our own, home grown neeps?
Why should the bland uniform pumpkin be given the honour of replacing the noble neeps which have been carved for centuries by small children hoping to scare off ghosties, ghoulies, ghoblins and other such things beginning with gh? (ghoulash?)
Like gaelic, storytelling, folk singing and sheep shagging, the humble turnip is being OUSTED in favour of this hideous orange newcomer. And why? "Because it is easier to carve"
EASIER TO CARVE!?!?!? Did the monks of Tibet make their giant Buddahs out of CHEESE because it was EASIER TO CARVE!? NO!
Did the inhabitants of Easter Island cobble together their giant statues out of PLASTICENE because they were a touch on the LAZY SIDE!? NO!
Did the ancient builders of Stonehenge grab the nearest heap of Salisbury clay because Wales was too far away and they COULDN'T BE ARSED!? NO!
Was the fantastically proportioned Cerne Abbas Giant fashioned out of CHALK because it was EASIER TO CARVE!? (Um. well ok he was... but that's not my point)
Think back to your childhood and remember the beautiful smell of burning turnip as you stepped out for the first time with your friends to go Guizing! Remember the turnip soup you ate for the 3 nights after the carving because "it was a waste not to use it" !
Remember taking part in the Hallowe'en Neep Contest! What you could make from them!
Laurel and Hardy Neeps (aged 8. prize: One packed of cigarette sweeties - now named something else so as not to encourage kiddies to smoke)
"Dick Turnip!" complete with 3 cornered hat and missing tooth...
And where would Baldrick be? If not for the Noble Turnip!!!?
So listeners... I am begging of you today to join my fight! My fight against the characterless bulbous newcomer "the Pumpkin"!
Campaign for the Removal Of Pumpkins from Samhain! (CROPS)
Fighting the good fight since October 2004!
Join Me!
"Beautiful! "
"Character!"
"Keech"
Jesus wept.
The reason for my rant was today's visit to Tescos. Yes Tescos... I'm addressing YOU! You have lovely adverts and Yes! We much admire the efforts of the talented Prunella Scales to increase your sales of bargain curries and delicious deli foods... but for GOD'S SAKE!!!
Pumpkins!?!?!
Pumpkins as FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE! And it's not even as if I can rant on and go "pumpkins in all shapes and sizes!" for they are ALL THE SAME SHAPE and ALL THE SAME SIZE! Totally identical! UNIFORM!
But could I find one neep? One beautiful... hairy... knobbly neep? Could I hell. There was a couple of sliced up (butchered! murdered! weeping!) "swedes" in the section labelled "winter vegetables." Swedes my arse! But in the space where in the past my dad and I would have spent ages rummaging for the neep going for the winning vegetable in the "most-astoundingly-full-of-character-and-personality-in-show" section, there was what? Pumpkins. SODDING PUMPKINS! Clean, smooth, utterly personality-free PUMPKINS.
Bloody Americans!
Now don't get me wrong... I love Americans. Truly I do! Some of my best friends are Americans!
And I really LOVE they way they have embraced Hallowe'en and made it their own. But for FECKS sake! Scotland! Can't we just keep our own, home grown neeps?
Why should the bland uniform pumpkin be given the honour of replacing the noble neeps which have been carved for centuries by small children hoping to scare off ghosties, ghoulies, ghoblins and other such things beginning with gh? (ghoulash?)
Like gaelic, storytelling, folk singing and sheep shagging, the humble turnip is being OUSTED in favour of this hideous orange newcomer. And why? "Because it is easier to carve"
EASIER TO CARVE!?!?!? Did the monks of Tibet make their giant Buddahs out of CHEESE because it was EASIER TO CARVE!? NO!
Did the inhabitants of Easter Island cobble together their giant statues out of PLASTICENE because they were a touch on the LAZY SIDE!? NO!
Did the ancient builders of Stonehenge grab the nearest heap of Salisbury clay because Wales was too far away and they COULDN'T BE ARSED!? NO!
Was the fantastically proportioned Cerne Abbas Giant fashioned out of CHALK because it was EASIER TO CARVE!? (Um. well ok he was... but that's not my point)
Think back to your childhood and remember the beautiful smell of burning turnip as you stepped out for the first time with your friends to go Guizing! Remember the turnip soup you ate for the 3 nights after the carving because "it was a waste not to use it" !
Remember taking part in the Hallowe'en Neep Contest! What you could make from them!
Laurel and Hardy Neeps (aged 8. prize: One packed of cigarette sweeties - now named something else so as not to encourage kiddies to smoke)
"Dick Turnip!" complete with 3 cornered hat and missing tooth...
And where would Baldrick be? If not for the Noble Turnip!!!?
So listeners... I am begging of you today to join my fight! My fight against the characterless bulbous newcomer "the Pumpkin"!
Campaign for the Removal Of Pumpkins from Samhain! (CROPS)
Fighting the good fight since October 2004!
Join Me!
"Beautiful! "
"Character!"
"Keech"
Labels: folklore
Is it too early to be thinking about going to the Glastonbury Festival next year?
You see I had this idea that I'd like to be performing there... Although I have to admit I have NO idea how to go about it...
I visited the storytelling tent in the Healing Fields in 2003 and bloody loved it.
Pondering...
Edit: July 2007 - Well, my wish finally came true! :D http://greenfuturesfestivals.org.uk/storytellers.html - here's the link to my performing! :)
You see I had this idea that I'd like to be performing there... Although I have to admit I have NO idea how to go about it...
I visited the storytelling tent in the Healing Fields in 2003 and bloody loved it.
Pondering...
Edit: July 2007 - Well, my wish finally came true! :D http://greenfuturesfestivals.org.uk/storytellers.html - here's the link to my performing! :)
I have to put in a link to this... Bloody brilliant!
I was looking for some stuff on scottish ghosties and myths and a' that and stumbled upon this. 's hilarious!
If I'd known about this site when I was doing my bit on the Greeeey Man of Ben MacDhui... I'd have linked to this instead! :)
http://www.firstfoot.com/scotchmyth/mythframemain.htm
I was looking for some stuff on scottish ghosties and myths and a' that and stumbled upon this. 's hilarious!
If I'd known about this site when I was doing my bit on the Greeeey Man of Ben MacDhui... I'd have linked to this instead! :)
http://www.firstfoot.com/scotchmyth/mythframemain.htm
And just to round off the evening - another one of my dad's stories :D
0 Comments Published by Poz on Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 8:01 pm.
Now then... Dad was an apprentice aged about 21 when he was working at a farm with a couple of other joiners.
They were given a room at the top of the farmhouse and told (by the rather moody farmer's wife) that after a (very early) hour that they were to try not to make much noise as the farmer needed his sleep to get up early to feed cows etc.
But of course... having spent the night drinking (fine farm ale) they went up to their room for the night, one of the other joiners needed a pee!
But the stairs were very squeaky and it was a long way downstairs to the outside privy.
So Dad had a bright idea. (As he often does in such stories.) If you unscrew the two bedknobs from the end of the bed, you can then remove the connecting bar and use it to pee out the window into the flower beds.
Well, you know what's coming, don't you? They did this just as the farmer was lighting his last pipe of the night, he got an unintended early shower and a cry went up into the night!
They were given a room at the top of the farmhouse and told (by the rather moody farmer's wife) that after a (very early) hour that they were to try not to make much noise as the farmer needed his sleep to get up early to feed cows etc.
But of course... having spent the night drinking (fine farm ale) they went up to their room for the night, one of the other joiners needed a pee!
But the stairs were very squeaky and it was a long way downstairs to the outside privy.
So Dad had a bright idea. (As he often does in such stories.) If you unscrew the two bedknobs from the end of the bed, you can then remove the connecting bar and use it to pee out the window into the flower beds.
Well, you know what's coming, don't you? They did this just as the farmer was lighting his last pipe of the night, he got an unintended early shower and a cry went up into the night!
Labels: dad's stories
Wow! What a great day for storytelling. I was off volunteering today at Archaeolink and wow! I am practically hoarse!
First of all there was a(n extended) family that came in. Now, it seems that a few weeks ago, I'd told them The Distressing Tale Of Skvoo The Shrew. A story inspired by a lovely Bavarian lassie called Sabina who spotted a shrew one day and named him "Deathscrew the Shrew" (Don't ask!)
The mum told me the kids were happy to see me and that she'd been woken early one morning with cries that Skvoo The Shrew was running round the house!!! I can't describe enough how delighted I am by this! :) I love it when kids REALLY pay attention...
So I told them The Tale of the Stupid Prince. The Stupid Prince is a character from another story my friends Miss Honey and Dannigan often tell. He turned out to be so obnoxious and hateful that he got his own story.
Then I told Brat And Garat (a tale of Iron Age sacrifice for the morbid kids) and Stanley Robertson's Silly Billy (Roman Style) and the story Nettle Soup (which stars my dad as Ceaoras Dubh Mor!) Then we were INVADED by VIKINGS!!! They demanded my jewels and I said I'd rather die than give them to them. So they settled for a story instead. BUT!!! It had to contain...
a) Poo
b) Pee
c) Blood
d) Guts (or it might have been a goat... I'm not sure)
e) Death
So they got Silly Billy again. THANK YOU STANLEY ROBERTSON!
Then... a reporter came round.
Now... we know our local reporters... The ones from the country papers. They're lovely! They know just what they're after. Facepaints, swords, a bit of fire! They really do turn out better-than-your-average-local-paper local interest stories.
But... This guy was from the People's Friend! What a nice guy! He took some photos... Scribbled down some notes about the iron age (I do tend to rabbit on a bit)... Photographed my Bog Shoes and then took my photo!
So. Does this mean couthy little old ladies (like the wifie that works in the shop in Chewing The Fat) will be reading their People's Friend and coming to Archaeolink for Couthy Chats?
We shall see ;)
First of all there was a(n extended) family that came in. Now, it seems that a few weeks ago, I'd told them The Distressing Tale Of Skvoo The Shrew. A story inspired by a lovely Bavarian lassie called Sabina who spotted a shrew one day and named him "Deathscrew the Shrew" (Don't ask!)
The mum told me the kids were happy to see me and that she'd been woken early one morning with cries that Skvoo The Shrew was running round the house!!! I can't describe enough how delighted I am by this! :) I love it when kids REALLY pay attention...
So I told them The Tale of the Stupid Prince. The Stupid Prince is a character from another story my friends Miss Honey and Dannigan often tell. He turned out to be so obnoxious and hateful that he got his own story.
Then I told Brat And Garat (a tale of Iron Age sacrifice for the morbid kids) and Stanley Robertson's Silly Billy (Roman Style) and the story Nettle Soup (which stars my dad as Ceaoras Dubh Mor!) Then we were INVADED by VIKINGS!!! They demanded my jewels and I said I'd rather die than give them to them. So they settled for a story instead. BUT!!! It had to contain...
a) Poo
b) Pee
c) Blood
d) Guts (or it might have been a goat... I'm not sure)
e) Death
So they got Silly Billy again. THANK YOU STANLEY ROBERTSON!
Then... a reporter came round.
Now... we know our local reporters... The ones from the country papers. They're lovely! They know just what they're after. Facepaints, swords, a bit of fire! They really do turn out better-than-your-average-local-paper local interest stories.
But... This guy was from the People's Friend! What a nice guy! He took some photos... Scribbled down some notes about the iron age (I do tend to rabbit on a bit)... Photographed my Bog Shoes and then took my photo!
So. Does this mean couthy little old ladies (like the wifie that works in the shop in Chewing The Fat) will be reading their People's Friend and coming to Archaeolink for Couthy Chats?
We shall see ;)
