BLUEMOMENT

The Laird flicked some goat horn muesli off the opened page of his engagements diary and pondered his predicament. "whit am ah tae dae, ahm fair strapped fer cash noo. the refit orra ma boat hus run away wi' ma life savings, ma penshuns gan efter the gov stuck ma cash whur the sun don't shine. ahm gang tae huv tae make some economees. but whit? ah've cancelled ma cruise, stapped the missus subscription tae the chippendales, put ra electrishity oan tae ra economy 7 wind turbine .. jings, whit mair can ah dae?"

Meanwhile, in the pantry, his two manservants were sifting through the laird's post. "git ra kettle oan, wee jamesie, thur's a missive here worth steaming". "Whae's it from, para?". His venerable companion sniffed the envelope. "Thur's a whiff orra perfoom aboot this. ah detect the handiwork orra ra brazen hussie, mandy". "Jings, she's good wi' her haunds, thur's nae doot aboot that." Kerchung, the power went off. "Damn and blast, the meter's run oot or its nae blawing ootside. ah'll get this aff tae the laird and get fifty pee fer ra meter"

"Yer lairdship, here's ra post and can ah huv some cash fer ra meter?" The laird lifted his sporran and poured the contents onto his lap. "Jings, tha's ma last fifty pee, make it last". "Ye tight auld git" muttered wee Jamesie as he shuffled off. The Laird spotted the letter from Mandy and ripped it open jist as he'd last ripped her bodice aff only tae get splinters in his niblick from her bone corset. "Ah, jings, she's coming tae ma party but hivvens hoo can i afford it noo?" There was a PTO on her letter and he turned it over. "hmm ... difficult times .. reposessed .. bailiff. Wull, the puir wee thing's in trouble. Hoo can ah help?". The Laird pondered for a moment. "Ah've goat it. jings, whit a master stroke .. jist whit ah wud huv been daeing if ah'd nae been speared by a kipper bone frae her corset. Ah'll telt they twa manservants tae sling thur hook and put Mandy in thur place." The Laird, energised with his plan, lifted himself up and vigorously rang the servant bell.

As scales falling from his ageing eyes - all became clear to the Laird. Whit ever had he been doing all these years retaining that scurrilous pair of brigands when the fair and lovely Mandy could have brought him delight and happiness on a daily basis - ach it wiz true - the afternoon brings knowledge the morning never knew - and here he was in the evening of his lifetime - anither birthday jest aroond the corner. His mind wandered further to a time which brought memories that could never be published and a wee lassie he met on the Royal Mile - Isla - Isla it was.....happiness flooded through his wrinkled scrotum

'Neffer mind', quoth the Laird, feeling gey pleased it rhymed with heiffer,' Ah'm oan ra case', and he tripped o'er his Ryanair-sized cabin luggage, catching his sporran on his sgian dubh.
And with tears in his e'en he sobbed, 'Its mah pairty and I'll cry if I want to....'

This was the very best day of his life; even better than the day he received the prestigious Tennent's Extra Strong Lager Award for New Fiction at the Cuan's Cash and Carry annual ball. Now, even the CCC award seemed pedestrian in comparison.

"Yes, Ma'am. I am greatly honoured to be receiving this, errrmm, great honour." He gazed lovingly at ERII's graceful signature on the illuminated scroll.

"Words cannot express, Ma'am, my admiration for your ........"

He awoke with a start, prodded in his by now recently fleshless ribs by his faithless and untrustworthy manservant Para Handy.

"Ach, ye silly auld fuil", hooted the factotum, "ye've bin bluidy daydreaming and slaverin' doon yer ganzie again."

"Award fae the Queen! Hah! Awa' an' tak a tumble tae yesel'. Thon's no award, that's yer auld age pass for furra Blackpool trams."

It was true; he been missed out on the List again. He looked down at the card in his hand. "Well", he thought aloud, "At least there's the Pleasure Beach to look forward to."