1. It came to pass that a decree went out that all the Ooters should be gathered unto one place. And the gathering should be in the abode of Alan the Carpenter and his good wife Ann in the city of Kilmarnock. And the appointed time was in the first week of the sixty-first year of Allan of the Complicated Sums.
2. The Ooters came from all of their cities, from Killie and from Darvel, and from Irvine and Troon and Alloway yea, even from the distant places of Catrine and Cumnock. And a great multitude filled Alan’s conservatory even unto the bulging of the walls for they fed on the leavened fruitcake and the mince pies baked in the oven of Alan. And they fed well and were thankful.
3. Gifts were given according to the custom of the Ooters for this was the season of Yule. The discs with the digital symbols were offered and the cards with the sacred messages were given even unto all. And thanks were given each unto the other.
(Hey, enough o’ the King James stuff, jist get oan wi’ it! He hisnae been richt since he discovered that quote fae Isaiah a fortnicht ago. - Editor)
OK, Ed.
After the exchange of Christmas cards and the devouring of Alan’s baking, we took to the road, a full complement of us for the first time in weeks. Ian was returned from his cruise in the Caribbean and that he enjoyed it was evident from the way he told us about it. And told us about it. And told us about it. By the time he had told us the forty-first thing about the breakfast, dinner, supper and the snacks in between, we had wandered the streets of Killie and found ourselves on the Western Road, on the bridge over the old Irvine railway.
A sign on the bridge told us that the old railway was now part of the Sustrans National cycle network route 73 and that Irvine was eight miles away, Ardrossan, seventeen. We weren’t going as far as Ardrossan but we were going onto the cycleway, and to Irvine.
A cycleway it may be, but directly under the bridge the old railway is being given a new lease of life with new track being laid as this is written. A gang of workmen toiled at the end of the new-lay. We asked why they were reinstating the track here but, by the time the leader, obviously the joker in the pack, had joked and capered and threw his hard-hat to the ground in despair, we were none the wiser. ‘They don’t tell us, they jist send us tae drill holes’, said he, before they all lifted tools and walked back towards the station. So, in our ignorance, we walked on, towards Irvine.
The walking was easy for the old railway is level, tarmaced for bikes, reasonably straight and runs through the flat lands of the Ayrshire plain. The scenery was uninspiring, low bankings and shallow cuttings combining to keep the views short, but the birders were delighted for many of their feathered friends fluttered among the saughs and scrubby trees, possible Tree Sparrows – ‘these are getting scarce now’ – and a flock of fifty to seventy Whooper Swans being the highlights. And Ian told us about his cruise.
The cycleway took us through the gently undulating countryside of the Ayrshire plain, by Knockentiber, over the Carmel Water, under Crosshouse and past Springside. By the time we gained the outskirts of Dreghorn the time was approaching eleven. ‘Too early to make directly for the town’, said Johnny and turned us up the road Jimmy was already walking up. Somebody called for coffee but there was no real place to sit for the ground was damp and the roadside verges were far from clean. We walked on ignoring the hungry and thirsty. (Whatever happened to compassion?)
The tarmac took us by various directions, by minor roads, main roads and short-cuts to the walled garden of Annick Lodge. A dip in the road brought us down to a bridge on the Annick water. A stiff climb that brought comments like ‘Thought this was a flat walk’, took us back up to the level. And on the level, on a wee bridge over a sheugh we concede to the thirsty and stopped for coffee. And Ian told us about his cruise.
We were to be at Johnny’s for soup and beer around one. It was now just after half past eleven and only a lang Scots mile or twa to his house so, despite the dampness of our seats and the coolish air, we spent longer over coffee than we might otherwise have done. The rain was forecast to come around half past eleven and, right on cue, we felt the first spots. We walked on.
As we approached the outskirts of Irvine, a man of mature years walked towards us. The advanced group walked past the man but Alan recognised him as a former teaching colleague, long time retired, and stopped for a blether. By the time pleasantries had been exchanged, another few minutes towards the soup hour had gone and now appetites were being sharpened for the feast.
We came into Irvine via the Girdle Toll and arrived at Johnny’s around the appointed hour.
4. And they feasted well of the warming soup and quaffed well of the ale. And each was satisfied and gave thanks unto Johnny even for this bounty he prepared before them.
Amen
2. The Ooters came from all of their cities, from Killie and from Darvel, and from Irvine and Troon and Alloway yea, even from the distant places of Catrine and Cumnock. And a great multitude filled Alan’s conservatory even unto the bulging of the walls for they fed on the leavened fruitcake and the mince pies baked in the oven of Alan. And they fed well and were thankful.
3. Gifts were given according to the custom of the Ooters for this was the season of Yule. The discs with the digital symbols were offered and the cards with the sacred messages were given even unto all. And thanks were given each unto the other.
(Hey, enough o’ the King James stuff, jist get oan wi’ it! He hisnae been richt since he discovered that quote fae Isaiah a fortnicht ago. - Editor)
OK, Ed.
After the exchange of Christmas cards and the devouring of Alan’s baking, we took to the road, a full complement of us for the first time in weeks. Ian was returned from his cruise in the Caribbean and that he enjoyed it was evident from the way he told us about it. And told us about it. And told us about it. By the time he had told us the forty-first thing about the breakfast, dinner, supper and the snacks in between, we had wandered the streets of Killie and found ourselves on the Western Road, on the bridge over the old Irvine railway.
A sign on the bridge told us that the old railway was now part of the Sustrans National cycle network route 73 and that Irvine was eight miles away, Ardrossan, seventeen. We weren’t going as far as Ardrossan but we were going onto the cycleway, and to Irvine.
A cycleway it may be, but directly under the bridge the old railway is being given a new lease of life with new track being laid as this is written. A gang of workmen toiled at the end of the new-lay. We asked why they were reinstating the track here but, by the time the leader, obviously the joker in the pack, had joked and capered and threw his hard-hat to the ground in despair, we were none the wiser. ‘They don’t tell us, they jist send us tae drill holes’, said he, before they all lifted tools and walked back towards the station. So, in our ignorance, we walked on, towards Irvine.
The walking was easy for the old railway is level, tarmaced for bikes, reasonably straight and runs through the flat lands of the Ayrshire plain. The scenery was uninspiring, low bankings and shallow cuttings combining to keep the views short, but the birders were delighted for many of their feathered friends fluttered among the saughs and scrubby trees, possible Tree Sparrows – ‘these are getting scarce now’ – and a flock of fifty to seventy Whooper Swans being the highlights. And Ian told us about his cruise.
The cycleway took us through the gently undulating countryside of the Ayrshire plain, by Knockentiber, over the Carmel Water, under Crosshouse and past Springside. By the time we gained the outskirts of Dreghorn the time was approaching eleven. ‘Too early to make directly for the town’, said Johnny and turned us up the road Jimmy was already walking up. Somebody called for coffee but there was no real place to sit for the ground was damp and the roadside verges were far from clean. We walked on ignoring the hungry and thirsty. (Whatever happened to compassion?)
The tarmac took us by various directions, by minor roads, main roads and short-cuts to the walled garden of Annick Lodge. A dip in the road brought us down to a bridge on the Annick water. A stiff climb that brought comments like ‘Thought this was a flat walk’, took us back up to the level. And on the level, on a wee bridge over a sheugh we concede to the thirsty and stopped for coffee. And Ian told us about his cruise.
We were to be at Johnny’s for soup and beer around one. It was now just after half past eleven and only a lang Scots mile or twa to his house so, despite the dampness of our seats and the coolish air, we spent longer over coffee than we might otherwise have done. The rain was forecast to come around half past eleven and, right on cue, we felt the first spots. We walked on.
As we approached the outskirts of Irvine, a man of mature years walked towards us. The advanced group walked past the man but Alan recognised him as a former teaching colleague, long time retired, and stopped for a blether. By the time pleasantries had been exchanged, another few minutes towards the soup hour had gone and now appetites were being sharpened for the feast.
We came into Irvine via the Girdle Toll and arrived at Johnny’s around the appointed hour.
4. And they feasted well of the warming soup and quaffed well of the ale. And each was satisfied and gave thanks unto Johnny even for this bounty he prepared before them.
Amen
1 comment:
Verily I say unto you - that was a good post!
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