Re: The Highlander confesses...


"The Highlander" <micheil@xxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:jn3sa3hfciuul7svinhi8nqgs3va3le3lq@xxxxxxxxxx
On Mon, 30 Jul 2007 14:01:52 GMT, "Conway Caine"
<ccaine@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:


"The Highlander" <micheil@xxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:uinpa3t0i9eiqvhdqdg3bvuf2fuq0vu84e@xxxxxxxxxx
On Sun, 29 Jul 2007 16:33:11 GMT, "Conway Caine"
<ccaine@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:


"The Highlander" <micheil@xxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:195na3h4kah7vfcujmfsdr07hir0r6que6@xxxxxxxxxx
On Sat, 28 Jul 2007 14:43:01 GMT, "Conway Caine"
<ccaine@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:


"Jane Margaret Laight" <jml27515@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:1185578781.340839.215730@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
On Jul 27, 3:01 pm, The Highlander <mich...@xxxxxxx> wrote:
On Fri, 27 Jul 2007 11:17:39 -0700, Jane Margaret Laight





<jml27...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
On Jul 26, 3:46 pm, The Highlander <mich...@xxxxxxx> wrote:
Yesterday, being thoroughly fed up with sitting home looking at
my
leg
raised above my head, I decided to get some exercise.

During a four mile spin on my bike, I ran over a rock I hadn't
noticed
and am now the proud owner of two sprained wrists, a scraped shin
on
the other leg, a skinned knee, a broken nail, and multiple
scrapes
and
bruises.

Do you need glasses? Do pedestrians leap into the roadway whenever
you
appear? Do the local police avert their eyes and tremble until
after
you pedal off into the distance? Maybe you just need to change your
mode of locomotion. How about one of those scooters, the ones that
putt-putt along at well under the speed limit? Or one of those
motorized wheelchair--if you have access to a competent mechanic
and
a
strong battery, you might be able to cruise along at about 30 mph.

What? I am a very healthy, athletic male who has seen a doctor twice
in the last 20 years - the current one being because I felt my leg
was
not getting better. One was for a check-up that my daughter insisted
I
have when I turned 65 - and on both occasions I was told not to
bother
coming back unless I thought something was wrong.

The check-up doctor told me he hated people like me because he was
20
years younger than me and my blood pressure and cholesterol levels
were half his!

And not only that - I have been told by two heart specialists that,
barring accident, I should live to be 120. I can still run fast - I
caught up with the thief pedalling away on my bicycle last year and
got into some trouble because of it - "If you ever do anything again
like that, you're going to jail!" a Mountie sergeant told me after
inspecting the thief's remains.

People think I'm in my forties or fifties - one of the markers for
people who live long lives. I cycle to make sure that I DON'T become
one of those people on walkers or in wheel chairs!

I cycle at high speed through the worst traffic and have not had a
crash for years - and that was caused by a car which knocked me down
by passing me too closely and hitting me with its mirror!

I am wondering if its anything to do with the Cephalexin antibiotic
tablets I have to take four times a day. Or perhaps because I've
been
working hard to protect my business from the upcoming financial
crash
in the US..

I look after my body - it's the only one I have and it has served me
very well through the past decades and I mean to keep it that way so
I
can at least creep over the 100 mark and not besmirch the family
record for a long life!



Being Canada, people stood off at a distance, shouting, "Are you
all
right?" - the usual attempt to offer any assistance short of
actual
help - while cars slowly navigated around the wreckage,
children's
laughing faces pressed against the windows and tiny fingers
making
obscene gestures.

you evidentally are well known in your community--("Amy dear, don't
look at that man fallen off his bicycle")

Actually, you're right - I am well-known, and spend a lot of time
waving back at people I don't know who apparently know me!







I slunk home and repaired my injuries by myself, not wishing to
be
the
target of my doctor's wagging finger and tongue.

that was undoubtedly very wise.

Best wishes, Lagavulin, money and gifts of teenage daughters may
be
sent to:

Home for the Geriatric Half-Witted
Richmond, BC.
Canada.

I could probably supply you with a registered nurse, leaning toward
elderly, stiff, starchy, and efficient, who would insure that you
took
your medication on schedule, help you restrain those urges to
perambulate around the neighborhood, and otherwise keep a close eye
on
you until you either completely heal or not.

Not the best offer I've had to date... I've even got a lady driving
me
around to get some fresh air!



I called my daughter, the cop lady for sympathy. She leapt to the
task, saying, "Do you remember what Mum once said - "Highlanders;
nice-looking men; thick as two planks?"

wise daughter of a wise mother!

DO YOU MIND?







I have just finished adding her name to my will, typing with my
nose.

(For non-Scots; we leave our debts to our children; not our
possessions. which we sell in advance to ensure that our funerals
are
memorable drunken bashes. I had to work for those possesions -
let
my
kids do the same!)

I'm becoming aware that "He" up there may be getting ready to put
the
boot in and is experimenting with a suitable end to my life... I
don't
have many illusions about my next address; my coal shovel is by
the
door, along with my teddy bear....

(How am I doing so far? Jane? Sheila?)

I have no doubt that your time is not at hand--I'd bet that Old
Scratch himself is far from interested in taking you on anytime
soon--
so take better care of yourself, you old fart--shine up your coal
shovel and hug your teddy bear and heal up soon!

"Old Fart?" This is not the way to win my heart and get your claws
on
the millions I have managed to amass...

JML
not accident prone

Nor me, normally. I have superb reactions whenever danger looms - a
blur vanishing at high speed, screaming "Mommy!"

Bulletin: The sprained wrists have already healed and so have the
nicks and abrasions. The leg is now ready for public display and my
ankles are once again being envied by ladies. I have tested this
body
to destruction point and it is ready to go! Back to the traditional
overseas Highland diet of cigarettes, coffee and cheesecake, all
lightly bathed with whisky!

Here is a recipe to try. If you get it to work, you may resubmit
your
application to be my bride. I never can get the damned thing to
work!

Here's my wife's recipe for molasses (treacle) bread. It's the best
bread I've ever tasted and she made four loaves every Saturday
morning. It was usually gone by lunchtime, once the kids realized
what
was going on. I've tried several times to make it since she died,
but
I cannot get anything close to it... Maybe you'll have more of a
"feel" for it.

SIÀRON'S MOLASSES BREAD
This is a traditional family recipe from Nova Scotia.

Put in one large bowl:
1 cup rolled oats
1 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp melted butter
2 tsp salt

Boil one cup water, scald (don't boil) 1 cup milk and add to bowl
When cool, add a half cup molasses and one Tbsp yeast, risen
according
to package instructions.

Add 4 to 5 cups flour, according to your feeling about it (5 cups
are
good) and knead well in bowl until not runny.

Turn out on a floured surface and knead well.

Grease a large bowl, put dough in to raise in a warm place for 1.5
to
2 hours, covered with a cloth or tea towel.

Re-knead a little, put in greased baking pans to rise again. (When
finger pushed into dough leaves a dent, it is risen.

Put in pre-heated oven at 325°F for one hour, 20 minutes.

Good luck!

The Highlander
Tilgibh smucaid air do làmhan,
togaibh a' bhratach dhubh agus
toisichibh a' geàrradh na sgòrnanan!- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

that recipe sounds mighty tempting--you have a bet; as soon as I can
set aside some time to do it all justice, I'll give it a try or two.
I always like a culinary challenge, and I trust that I will do it
justice.

Lang may yer lum reek!

*************************

Is that "lum" or "bum"?
;=)

LUM. Scots for chimney.

BUM is Glenallan country.

I know I've worn out that joke but I still find it amusing.

(BTW, how does one go about repairing a reeky chimney?)

The universal solution is to make sure of two things:

The throat can be any size as long as the space behind and above it
(the scotchback) is larger to create a vacuum effect and draw the
smoke out.

The chimney should close down near the top to approximately the same
dimensions as the throat. The top dimensions can be a little larger
than the throat, but they should _never_ be smaller. If they are, the
chimney will be choked and smoke.

As long as these rules are followed, almost any design or elaboration
can be employed within the chimney. It can twist, slope, slant or
bulge inside; have a ledge or depression behind the throat to catch
ashes or water or other solid matter (like a bird's nest) that might
come down the chimney; anything as long as it isn't choked.

You could also employ the services of a chimney sweep and maybe save
yourself a bundle by not having to hire someone to rebuild the
chimney.

I now understand (I think).
A reeky chimney is a chimney that "draws".
That is, the smoke goes up the chimney and not out into the room.


A reeky chimney is a chimney that smokes. "Reek" is the Scots word for
smoke and the English word for smelling really bad and Edinburgh was
once known as "Auld Reekie" (Old Smokey) because the sky was always
dark with smoke from the many coal fires of that time.

London used to have the most appalling fogs, known by older people as
a "London particular", and by younger one's as a "pea souper" but
after a huge project to replace all coal fires with electric fires,
costing millions, there has never been a London Particular again. I
imagine it must have saved or at least extended thousands of lives.

It's hard to grasp the complete oblivion of a London fog of that time.
I once took a good half hour finding my way home. a distance of about
seventy yards from a main street, including walking into a lamp post
and giving myself a nose bleed. I was unable to make out the lamp post
even though standing against it.

I finally found my accommodation by feeling the numbers on the garden
gates, like a blind man reading Braille! The fog clung to one's
clothes and made one cough constantly. It was made worse by the fact
that the river Thames was only a hundred yards or so away, so the smog
was mixed with the fog coming off the river. Pulmonary problems among
older people were the norm in those days.

We (in Bristol, TN) had nowhere near the problems as London but the burning
of coal in fireplaces and stoves turned everything a sooty black each and
every winter.
The smell of burning coal was everywhere.
I still get a bit nostalgic when, on occasion, I smell coal burning.




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