A Scottish Storyteller

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!

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 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...

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 ...