sonofaslant wrote:So! Bochan Mor returns....... If it is really you (and I have my doubts) be in no dobut that The Crofters will hunt you and your cohorts through the heather to the ends of the earth and this time they will catch you. It will be a cage at the Network Centre and a documentary on some obscure satellite channel for you lot - how the mighty will have fallen.
As for your posting, I have chewed it over, and initially thought that it could not possilby be that the seemingly placid goat is indeed "The One" that turned dark hair snow white at the Narachan. However, I have been at the end of my tether since you planted this thought in my mind (but that is what Bochan's do is it not?) and now I'm just not sure at all.
Is the goat's cover blown or is this some misundersanding born of Bochan-induced paranoia?
Trouble is, the only one who can tell us definitively is The Goat himself and who is going to believe him now that the seeds of doubt are sown?
Yes Slanted one, Bochan Mor returns, not alone, indeed with more strength than ever. Recruitment levels have been high within the Bochan population, to such an extent that we are now a thriving clan.
If the truth be known, we were never really far away. You see the problem with the crofters has always been the same; they are always looking for a slant, never thinking on stemming the weather. They forget to look right under their noses. Now that I've secured more permanant accommodation, I may as well let the cat out the bag. The Bochans have been living among the long tails at the head of the Quay, not on the Quay, but under it. I can tell you it is damn sore on the hands & knees scrambling up their in the dark. It brought a whole new meaning to 'All Crooch'!
We've had wild work on the fishermen.: Who do you think has been untying the cod-end strings, loosening the shackles on the sweeps, loosening the springs on the dredges, deleting marks from their plotters and best yet, remarking their trawl wires and loosening trawl doors as the Slants sit like spatchcocks and puddocks, supping ale of hops in the Crubhan.
We've been at it for years: Sneaking doon below and swapping labels on the tinned food, drinking the condensed milk and Dunsade, even breaking the bakers hardest water biscuits into crumbs. Knocking the bottom out of the fish boxes was always good for a laugh, especially when you half sorted them and placed them neatly back in their pocket in the hold.
Mind you, sometimes somebody else has beaten us to it. We thought somebody was trying to get their own back on us by smearing all sorts on the brake and clutch handles of the winches. ................the aroma lingered for days afterwards! Could old beardie have had a hoof in this one?
One things for sure, it wasnay us that used to let Joey the sheep out of her field night after night and set up a home for her and her offspring in the bus shelter. The Bochans would never have wasted a Portnastorm clam supper on a hooved beast. Who could that have been then. I don't think that you would need to look too hard for clues!
It's been an easy life really, with the crofters leaving a plentiful supply of clams, prawns & fish within easy reach at the end of the quay. We're no so keen on the spoots that they have been leaving of late, but thank god they've given up the buckie whelks, because they were like pure poison to us Bochans. What ever happened to the beautiful herring. We had a right gloss on our skins when we used to gorge on them. Fuel hasn't been a problem either. Coal and diesel have always been readily available, but some of the posher Bochans have even got gas fires, now that coal is harder to come by.
We're hoping that the farmers of the sea will settle in the village, securing a source of good protein. We've noted that there's not many fishermen with the native cunning of the Slants left skippering boats from the village. At the risk of offending the cloven hooved fella from the Narachan Burn, this might not bode well for the long term viability of the harbour. Indeed, maybe the time has come to call in the yachts. Think of the scope the Bochans could have with the yachties.
The Goatee claims he's fond of a bit of mischief, maybe he would join in the devilment. He could pull the yacht halyards on a calm night and waken those Slants that dwell at the head of the quay. Just think of the crack, hiding a few spoots in amongs their sails, or even scutching a few old gleshans into their cockpits as they sleep. Are you nibbling at the rope yet?
I'm sure no one would notice. Who would tell? Besides, let he without sin, cast the first boulder! and another, then another!
braw
