.
I suppose I should destroy my login . . . been a member for over eight years, I can't quite bring myself to do that yet. However, the signal to noise ratio has become ridiculous and as Claymore rightly points out my arteries aren't getting any younger.
I have removed the quicklink from my home page menu, which is a start. Actually typing the URL into a browser involves a bit more premeditated effort.
JackJ wrote:
I've been worrying about that since you first wrote it.
How about we write in Latin or in Gaelic? Doubt they've got those languages.
It's all Greek to me -
I' VE όντας ανησυχητικός για αυτό δεδομένου ότι το γράψατε αρχικά. Πόσο περίπου γράφουμε σε λατινικά ή στο γαελικό; Αμφιβολία they' το VE πήρε εκείνες τις γλώσσες.
BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO ARE CRACKED,
FOR THEY ARE THE ONES WHO LET IN THE LIGHT
Nick wrote:.
I suppose I should destroy my login . . . been a member for over eight years, I can't quite bring myself to do that yet. .
Well, could be you've been preempted on that count. I just checked over there to see what's been said over the last few days on the Chandlers thread and found the following:
1. Your Chandlers Poll has been deleted (couldn't find a reason; presumably security ie the pirates were probably reading it).
2. Your Climate Change thread has been deleted (for abusive language).
3. Certain posters are speculating that you've been banned.
4. One poster has started a "Free the Webby One" campaign.
It all seems rather childish to me.
Quite a nice forecast for the weekend. Is it still wet and windy up north?
I've been almost moved to tears by this. I've sought solace, and found it in the works of one of your own, the great William Topaz mcGonagall.
This is for Nick, I think it sums up how we are all feeling at this sad time.
FRIENDS of humanity, of high and low degree,
I pray ye all come listen to me;
And truly I will relate to ye,
The tragic fate of the Rev. Alexander Heriot Mackonochie.
Who was on a visit to the Bishop of Argyle,
For the good of his health, for a short while;
Because for the last three years his memory had been affected,
Which prevented him from getting his thoughts collected.
'Twas on Thursday, the 15th of December, in the year of 1887,
He left the Bishop's house to go and see Loch Leven;
And he was accompanied by a little skye terrier and a deerhound,
Besides the Bishop's two dogs, that knew well the ground.
And as he had taken the same walk the day before,
The Bishop's mind was undisturbed and easy on that score;
Besides the Bishop had been told by some men,
That they saw him making his way up a glen.
From which a river flows down with a mighty roar,
From the great mountains of the Mamore;
And this route led him towards trackless wastes eastward,
And no doubt to save his life he had struggled very hard.
And as Mr Mackonochie had not returned at dinner time,
The Bishop ordered two men to search for him, which they didn't decline;
Then they searched for him along the road he should have returned,
But when they found him not, they sadly mourned.
And when the Bishop heard it, he procured a carriage and pair,
While his heart was full of woe, and in a state of despair;
He organised three search parties without delay,
And headed one of the parties in person without dismay.
And each party searched in a different way,
But to their regret at the end of the day;
Most unfortunately no discovery had been made,
Then they lost hope of finding him, and began to be afraid.
And as a last hope, two night searches were planned,
And each party with well lighted lamps in hand
Started on their perilous mission, Mr Mackonochie to try and find,
In the midst of driving hail, and the howling wind.
One party searched a distant sporting lodge with right good will,
Besides through brier, and bush, and snow, on the hill;
And the Bishop's party explored the Devil's Staircase with hearts full of woe,
A steep pass between the Kinloch hills, and the hills of Glencoe.
Oh! it was a pitch dark and tempestuous night,
And the searchers would have lost their way without lamp light;
But the brave searchers stumbled along for hours, but slow,
Over rocks, and ice, and sometimes through deep snow.
And as the Bishop's party were searching they met a third party from Glencoe side,
Who had searched bracken and burn, and the country wide;
And sorrow was depicted in each one's face,
Because of the Rev. Mr Mackonochie they could get no trace.
But on Saturday morning the Bishop set off again,
Hoping that the last search wouldn't prove in vain;
Accompanied with a crowd of men and dogs,
All resolved to search the forest and the bogs.
And the party searched with might and main,
Until they began to think their search would prove in vain;
When the Bishop's faithful dogs raised a pitiful cry,
Which was heard by the searchers near by.
Then the party pressed on right manfully,
And sure enough there were the dogs guarding the body of Mackonochie;
And the corpse was cold and stiff, having been long dead,
Alas! almost frozen, and a wreath of snow around the head.
And as the searchers gathered round the body in pity they did stare,
Because his right foot was stained with blood, and bare;
But when the Bishop o'er the corpse had offered up a prayer,
He ordered his party to'carry the corpse to his house on a bier.
So a bier of sticks was most willingly and quickly made,
Then the body was most tenderly upon it laid;
And they bore the corpse and laid inside the Bishop's private chapel,
Then the party took one sorrowful look and bade the corpse, farewell.
.
Erm . . . thanks for that Alcyone - I think . . .
Actually I am a big fan of William Topaz McG - we once had a McGonagall Supper in the village hall at Abriachan, a wee crofting community above Loch Ness where my parents used to live. There was a competition for a poem with a local theme in the style of WTMcG, and I am delighted to say I won first prize. I rarely find an excuse to inflict it on people, but I reckon you have asked for it so:
Abriachan (in the style of William Topaz McGonagall)
TO the rustic community of Abriachan
Myself and my wife repair whenever we can
From our home in the west near the town known as Oban
(Which means small bay as I am sure you know)
And so today was one of those days when we did go
Across the land of Scotland from coast to coast
(Well, not quite, but almost)
To visit the good folks of Abriachan in this their humble hall
And eat their food and speak and drink with all.
Although normally at this time the bard of Ayrshire would have his works read
While eating sheep’s lights and breaking bread
The Abriachan folk have decided this year instead
(Good folk one and all, to a man well bred)
To celebrate the famous Bard of Dundee
McGonagall – for indeed it is he
The man who immortalised the Tay Bridge Disaster
And of epic poetry there is no doubt was the master
(A statue has been erected, and not in plaster)
And so good folk of Abriachan I say to you
For doing this thing there is no doubt it is true
You will be remembered by more than this rhyme
For several hundred years, which is a very long time.
Although McGonagall, that trusty Wight
Along Loch Ness once did travel so bright
And composed an ode to that water so deep and right
Sadly he did not attain this great height
Of Abriachan, community of crofters and commuters to Inverness
Where the wheelie bins prevent any untidy mess
But the people of Abriachan think of him no less
And only say to him on this day that is not his birthday
That they wish him joy although he did not come up that brae
From Loch Ness to visit us that day
We know that if he had
William Topaz McGonagall would have been exceedingly glad.
(Sorry, you started it)
And now I propose - a grand competition for yachting poems in the style of William Topaz McGonagall, with the winning entries to be read out and lavish prizes presented on the Chentleman's Cruise 2010.
the metre is wrong, it doesn't rhyme, nor scan and the subject is boring.
It's perfect!
It could have been written by the man himself.
I too have been an admirer for some time. I was delighted to pick up a copy of his collected poems in Fort William some years back. His poetry genuinely gives me so much pleasure, something not shared by the people I was on holiday with who looked at me strangely for thw whole fortnight. We were at the campsite at Gallanach, diving, very bad weather, the time Boscastle flooded, anyway, I digress.
I will respond with a poem of my own, but it may take some weeks.
I 've completely given up on TOP, used to be that one learnt a lot from informed debate there, its now just dominated by "yes it is" "no it is'nt" arguments.
BTW the post on the kdnap was probably the daftest thing I've ever seen Webbie write!
This looks as if it could be fun
for ages could this thread run and run and run
For the outpouring of deathless prose
I cannot wait from those and such as those.
Naw, too much rhyme, sorry
As for TOP, I feel I have to go there as we don't get such a wide response to techhie things here ( or is it just me?)
http://trooncruisingclub.org/ 20' - 30' Berths available, Clyde.
Cruising, racing, maintenance facilities. Go take a look, you know you want to.
