Havers | blethersnhavers

On Monday mornings. Nov. 23

Morning y'all and hello to another Monday morning. I take it you all left the house this morning whistling Heigh-ho Heigh-ho it's off to.... etc. Smiled at the antics of the little scamps who cut you up on the road in. Warmly greeted the boss/foreman/traffic manager at your workplace and plunged into the days duties with passion and a happy heart. What's that...? You didn't!!! Well there's a ferk'n surprise... Stay safe and keep the faith y'all and always remember... If you can't see the elephant in front of you. It's hiding in a cherry tree with it's toenails painted red.

On Resolutions after two decades Dec. 19

Morning folks and hello to the last day of the second decade of the 20s. A day for reflection and a day for looking ahead. Would you look at that, I've managed to make two days already, so here's a third. A day for making resolutions. Stuff like I'm gonna stop eating brussell sprouts while hanging upside down from an elephant smoking a cuban cigar. Yes the elephant smokes the cigars. Nothing wrong with that. so don't be calling the SSPCA.

My own particular resolution is to stop unicycling backwards up Ben Nevis while juggling two haggis, a turnip and a bag of tatties. I reckon it shouldn't be too difficult to keep this resolution as I've never actually been on a unicycle, let alone gone backwards up a mountain on one.

So there you go.... look forward, look backward and don't hang off unicycling elephants smoking cigars, cuban or otherwise. That's my message to you all for 2020. Have a very good one folks...

On feelings. Mar. 22

Good afternoon y'all. Are we all just apple pie and ice cream, or are we semolina and prunes? One or two of you appear to be apple pie and prunes.... not exactly the best combination, so please accept my sympathies. We are of course over here in the wild and woolly Hebrides. Not particularly wild, or woolly, at the moment, but it usually is. We did the tourist bitty yesterday and went shopping. Life on the edge, or what? Probably or what..... But heigh-ho what else can you do, When you need food you go shopping, when you're tired you sleep and when you're feeling a shade amorous you have a cold shower, or two, or three even. Whatever it takes. We trust however your feeling you'll take the appropriate action. So enjoy your meal, have sweet dreams, or make sure there's at least three warm towels on the radiator. Have a good one y'all...

On squirrels Nov. 17

Afternoon y'all. Isn't this weather fair to middlin' hellish? Sleat, rain, hailstones, sunshine and a lazy wind all over a couple of hours and even all at the same time. You'd think we were in the Highlands of Scotland in November, or something. Are we downhearted? Of course we are, it's ferk'n freezin'. Think I'll make like a squirrel (a red one that is, not one of these interloping American grey fellows), store away my nuts and hibernate for the winter. Maybe a beautiful princess will come along and kiss me while I sleep. Then SHAZAAM! there'll be a cloud of fairy dust and I'll turn into a frog...

Crepuscular rays over The Ord

On mornings we'd like. Jan 24

Morning ladies and gents... I trust y'all threw back the covers this morning, dived into the shower singing like a wee linnty, danced down the stairs and into the kitchen, (bungalow dwellers you danced down the hall,) kissed the other half passionately, savoured the sausage egg bacon and beans, two rounds of toast and cuppa tea lovingly placed on the table in front of you, got out of your chair and with a gentle squeeze of their left/right bum cheek, kissed the other half passionately again. Then cheerfully threw on your coat and finally sauntered out the door happily whistling 'heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go'. No!!! Well there's a ferk'n surprise. Stay safe and remember the elephant folks...

On mornings we get. Jan 24

Morning folkses... I trust some of you raised a bleary eyelid and peered at the alarm clock this morning. Then thought... FECK! I've slept in... You tumble out of bed thinking, I haven't time for a bloody shower and begin pulling on your clothes and stumble down the stairs trying to get your left arm into the right armhole of your shirt, finally arriving in the kitchen (bungalow dwellers you stumbled up the hall). Grumping a slightly less than cheery good morning to your other half you sit down to tie your shoes muttering a series of unintelligable curses when the ferk'n shoelace snaps. That done, you grab a mouthful of the toast and the tea your beloved had actually made for themselves, Checking your watch you rise and pull your coat off the hook, pulling the hook off at the same time. Muttering another series of expletives you kiss himself/herself, leaving a smear of toast crumbs, butter and marmalade on their cheek and charge out the door grunting something that could have been "love you". Sheepishly returning to get the car keys... You're back out the door again and into the car thinking to yourself "what's that bloody elephant doing in my cherry tree". Making your way into work you curse every unfortunate, not away from the lights, or turning right, with the alacrity you'ld like them to, this last despite the fact you yourself were in the wrong lane, eventually reaching the workplace with seconds to spare. What!!! Some of you did.. Well there's a ferk'n surprise. Stay safe and remember the elephants folks...

On halves. Nov. 23

Morning folks, Well we're halfway through the weekend and I'm half asleep which also implies I'm half awake. Interesting how when you feel half asleep you don't actually feel half awake. Whichever way you look at it you feel half asleep.

In football half time's just that, half time. Back in the day half a crown was exactly, half a crown, Then there's the perennial question is a glass half empty or half full. Not to mention being halfway there or halfway home on a road trip. Also, if a brick falls on your head will dropping two half bricks on your head do less damage? If you see a halfway house where do you find the other-half way house. If two people are doing a job half-heartedly does the fact there are two of them mean they're doing the job whole-heartedly. On that note I'll leave you half convinced I'm half crazy...

Existentialism? Well maybe not. Apr. 23

Afternoon y'all. Not a bad day up here on the wee hill, a gentle breeze blowing, birdies a-tweeting and a-twittering, the grass slowly turning from winter's sickly yellow to a spring-like healthy green and weans playing happily in the street. It occurred I should give some serious thought to it all. Maybe.. given a bitty time I'd find myself at a life confirming, existential crossroads. But no! It was too much for my wee brain as all I got was a painful release of much smoke and many, many sparks. So I concluded, ferk that for a game of soldiers and went back to watching motorcycling on the telly...

On what to do at weekends. Jan 23

Morning y'all. I trust you're all up and about and ready for a weekend filled with shopping/car washing/dog walking, with the occasional game of finding the weans shoe/where's the ferk'n car keys/do we have to go to your mothers and other such mind titivating practices. Never mind.... there's always the possibility of a wee bit libation/wee bit takeaway/wee bit slap and tickle of an evening. Me? I'm going to stay in the scratcher and watch whatever small part of the world passes my bedroom window. So far we've had a Hyundai estate and a Highland Haulage delivery wagon. Bet you can't beat that for excitement. Have a good one folks...

Uilebheist Clachan Shanda (The Beast of Clachan Sands)

On Easter pastimes. Apr. 19

Morning folks, I trust we're all planning a bit of a traditional Easter Sunday. Egg hunting, lamb lofting, bunny bouncing, chickie chucking, etc. We don't really chuck chickies I'm not a monster altogether. Chickie chucking just involves passing the soft little fluffy chicks gently from hand to hand into a box of feathers. In the old days it was a lot less gentle, but so's not to offend anybody's sensibilities I won't go into too much detail. Suffice to say it did involve a badminton racquet and the chuckers would start by standing at least twenty yards apart. The distance increasing by five yards every round. Please note entering the event was not compulsory but you know how cruel up for anything chickies can be to other less adventurous ones. It also has to be noted that some of the little chuckees were reluctant chuckees and weren't overly happy about being a chuckee in the first place and would chirp most vociferously to their usually anti-chucking mammy chickens before the chucking began. Of course daddy chickens would actively encourage their offspring to take part. Especially if they had been a chuckee when they were chicks. It was a well known fact that back in the day the sport of chickie chucking made for some really hardy chicks. Even the farm cat and the local fox would give these brave birdies a wide berth. But eventually, as with everything character building. Health and Safety and the Liberals got in on the act and changed the rules so that even soft, fluffy wussie, chickies could take part.

Happy Easter folks, enjoy your eggs. I'll be having mine fried on a roll with a couple of rashers of bacon...

On what you don't see passing your window.. jan. 18

Morning y'all. as they say somewhere. Having a quiet Sunday, flying a 767 (flight simulator) from the Caribbean to Marseille, listening to country music and watching the world going by the window. In saying that there isn't a lot of the world passing by my window on a weekday let alone today. Here's hoping the view outside your windows are a shade more interesting. I mean there's nothing worse than a boring window, unless there's no window at all. Cos one thing is certain, there's nothing more tedious than looking through no window at all waiting for something to come by. There could be allsorts passing no window at all, a circus, a police chase, a couple of goblins, or even a unicorn. And don't tell me there are no goblins or unicorns, cos how would you know? That's right! If you can't see through your no window then you can't see what's going past it. And if you can't see what's going past, then you can't say it doesn't exist.

Another load of waffle from the Auld Eejit who really should know better...

On weather in the west and falling out of bed. Nov. 22

Morning y'all from the wild and woolly west. Was wild, wet and woolly last night, but only wild and woolly this morning. Concrete evidence, should it be needed, that the weather doesn't always stay the same in the He-brides. Having a wee rest day so won't be going far, Solas Co-op be the limit I think.

Well... we managed to do something last night that I can't remember doing before. Or, if I had done it before, I can't remember when. Get your minds oot o' the gutter, you lot thinking the mucky thoughts. It wasn't anything nice like that.

Somewhere around four o'clock this morning I fell out of bed. I woke up to find myself lying on the floor like ten pounds of mince, (okay twenty, [shakes head] there's always a pedant). Scaring the whotsit out of She Who Must.... etc. in the process. I'm lying there like a stunned gazelle (okay stunned buffalo.... that nitpicker again) wondering why myself and the floor have become such good buddies, not to mention my feeling, more than a little, pain. Turns out I managed to drag my stomach down and over the leg height adjuster of my computer table, leaving a bit of a mess behind. Looks worse than it probably is, but it stung a bit I can tell you. Got a few other bruises but heigh-ho, could have been worse. Anyway..... the moral of the story is don't be rolling off the side of the bed, sleeping or otherwise. When James Bond does it and comes up with the gun to make short work of the bad guy. It looks cool. When we lesser beings do it, with or without a gun. Not so much.....

On Scotch Mist. Jun. 24

Morning y'all welcome from a gie dreich North Uist. Where a serious case of Scotch Mist has cast it's moistness upon us. Everything's as wet as wet thing can get. In fact it's even wetter than that, It's wetter than a drookit cat after falling into the wettest river in the wettest country in the wettest part of the world. Which of course could occasionally be Scotland. So just in case you didn't get the message, it's WET!!! Have a dry one folks...

On the flap in your long johns. Apr. 20

Good afternoon y'all. Another day dawns up here on our wee hill in the Muir. A bitty cold this morning so presumably it was back out with the all-in-one long-johns, first making sure the exit flap hinges were well oiled. You can get into all sorts of trouble should the trap fail when you're trying to make a hasty exit. Could also be pretty embarrassing being found trying to leave via the wee trapdoor the wrong way round, up, or whatever. I mean what if somebody took a picture and posted it here on Facebook, or the newspapers, or Hello magazine even. You and your family would all have to grow beards and leave town. And hope upon hope nobody recognises you wherever you choose to make your next home.

So remember folks..... Always oil the hinges........ Failure to do so could result in your performing contortions far too ridiculous to sensibly comprehend. Not to mention the embarrassment resulting from the pictures...

Colours of Berneray

Observations on Mondays and what else to call them. Mar. 21

Well ferk me if it ain't another Monday. They really need to do something about all these Mondays in one year, I mean there's 52 of them and occasionally 53. Which to be honest is just taking the wee-wee. Maybe we should petition to give it another name. But that wouldn't really help as we'd end up complaining that it was just another another name day. So I'm afraid there's only one solution, live with all the ferk'n Mondays. In fact that's an ideal name for the first day following the weekend. Not only that, a lot of you are probably referring to today as Ferk'n Monday already. So have a good Ferk'n Monday folks and remember tomorrow's Ferk'n Tuesday.

On belting it out. Mar. 22

Morning y'all. Hopefully you're all out there whistling or singing along to whatever it is you listen to in the cab/house/any other workplace where there's just you. Even if you can't sing, belt it out, no fecker can hear you. So give it laldy ladies and gents. You know you want to. Me? I'm making relatively musical noises to a sixties compilation. Relatively being the operative word...

On window wipers and what you don't know about them. Nov. 19

Afternoon folks, Yet another dreich day in the heilans. Are we downhearted? Okay maybe a little.

We have a wee health warning to impart today. Not many know about this particular issue and the motor industry has been trying to keep it under wraps for years, but I've decided the world, well Scotland at least, needs to be told. You're travelling along the A9/A96/A82 or whatever, clouds of spray behind you and the rain spattering on the glass in front of you. You've got the headlights on and the wipers swishing left to right, or even right to left, over the windscreen. Now it's the wiper sweeps you've got to watch for, because with some folks windscreen wipers can cause psychological episodes.

There you are driving along quite happily, on comes the rain so it's on with the wipers. You're thinking about a nice warm house and looking forward to the plate of stovies the other half's doing for the dinner. When all of a sudden you find your eyes involuntarily following the wipers. Left/right left/right left/right and so on and so forth.

Now at this point most folks could just look away and all would be fine, but there are an unlucky few who now have the start of a major problem, that is, strangely enough, unique to Scotland.

Whilst their eyes follow the wipers they start to hum a tune or two. Subsequent, extensive tests on those afflicted have revealed the tunes to be 'Auntie Mary Had a Canary' with slow wipers and something about 'the whereabouts of Donald's troosers' with faster sweeps.

Anyway..... as the effects take hold. Our poor nutcase, sorry, affectee, switches from just humming to full blown singing, getting more and more raucous as their condition worsens. Till finally the patient is literally dancing in his/her seat offering ribald suggestions as to where Auntie Mary should put her canary and why Donald left his troosers at her hoose.

By this time any passengers in the car are more than a little concerned, breathing hard on the windows and writing help messages in the condensation. Words like 'get us oot o' here, and... the driver's a ferk'n daftie. Without the punctuation of course. Cos who uses punctuation when they're filling their breeks. If the occupants are lucky a canny polisman will spot them, realise what's going on, and break into a rendition of 'Sam the Skull' over the polis car's loudspeaker. This will calm the poor driver to the point where he/she halts their vehicle. After a wee bit stooshie, they are gently led away, by a puckle of cauld wee men in white coats, to a place of safety. They are placed, still gibbering a little, into a heavily padded cell with no windows. There they are fed on a diet of cold porridge, rolled herrings and stewed prunes with custard. In addition the smarty pants brigade have also found the dulcet tones of Andy Stewart singing 'A Scottish Soldier' and 'The Muckin' O' Geordie's Byre' go a long way towards restoring the patient to better fettle. And very soon they are returned to the bosom of their family with little in the way of long-lasting effects, other than a propensity for regularly attending ceilidhs.

The passengers? Ach they'd be fine after a wee wash, a couple of drams of single malt and clean undies. Not necessarily in that order.

Brought to you via the constantly confused mind of a happy auld eejit...

On the three Bs. Apr. 19

Morning folks, a fine day so it is, so it is, bejabers, bejasus and begorrah. As always we hope you all get through the day the day with as few bejabers, bejasus and begorrahs as possible. I don't know where this nonsense/waffle I occasionally spout comes from, it kinda just appears. Personally I blame the medication...

Clouds May 24

Morning folkses. I trust we're all fit as the flea on the butcher's dog. If you aren't today, then I hope you will be tomorrow. But, even if you aren't as fit as the flea on the butcher's dog today, tomorrow, or any other day, the trick is to think you are. So stay fit in your heads folks and bounce over them grey clouds. It fairly discumknockerates the minds of those feckwits who have nothing better to do than to try and harsh your mellow...

Vallay House. Former home of Scots photographer Erskine Beveridge,

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