As a subscribed "Friend of Unst" you are entitled to a regular digest of all the Local Doings on the island as well as a quarterly "fry" of chops (or saucermeat) and all for $59.99 a year.
Since your last visit to Unst we have seen the forced departure of Malcolm and Cassandra Pepys from the 'Bide Awa' in Baltasound, due to a disagreement over boundaries with the North Sea. The eviction of Mr and Mrs Pepys saw scenes of unprecedented English lunacy from Malcolm as he tried, unavailingly, to reform the tidal nature of the oceans with an ornamental arch of Huddersfield Brick. It is believed that the Pepys' have emigrated to Bangladesh "to see how they fu**ing like it". We hope his butchery experience serves him well.
This left a sad hole in the tourism infrastructure and of course in the wife-fighting team of the island, so we were glad that the 'Bide Awa' quickly attracted New Owners (and who wouldn't want to own this gorgeous guest outlet?) Johnnie and Babs Dalrymple, originally of Callander in Mozambique, have brought a great deal of unwonted energy and colour to the island, and indeed the whole place is buzzing with expectation at the thought of having such rhythmic people in our midst.
Elsie Johnson at the Cooked Meats and Frost Fish dealership said that this should give us the edge on Yell in all the sprint finals in this years' Shetland Sports, and we were surprised indeed to find that the Dalrymples are Full Christians and have very few 'extra' dietary needs, though the Special Constabulary are still on Red Alert, just in case.
The downloads in the previous set of links include the ereader.version statement read by Private First Class Bradley E. Manning at the Providence Inquiry for his formal plea of guilty to one specification under Article 92 with a substituted time frame for the offense, and nine specifications for lesser included offenses under Article 134. The transcript was taken by journalist Alexa O'Brien at the Article 39(a) session of United States v. Pfc. Bradley Manning on February 28, 2013 at Fort Meade, MD, USA and published on March 1, 2013.
There is also at present a 99p or $1.50 version of the book on Amazon Kindle, but without the transcript.
Far ere's slurry ere's sillar? Nae here. Boyndlie is an estate as opposed to a village, or you might like to picture it as a scattered community of farms and other houses.
Boyndlie House lies about six miles SW of Faserburgh, and is a seat of a branch of the Forbes family - although I know the family as being called Ogilvie-Forbes, as have been for at least a century.
The physical properties of the city of Edinburgh alone are enough to inspire awe in even the most determinedly impressionable, unobservant, English ape. But are best seen, rather than described. The populace, however, is ripe for ridicule. The population can be split in two roughly equal parts : Ancient and Modern. The former consists of 250,000 surreptitious wall-eyed hybrid Irish pub-dwellers, admirably possessed of a profound, seemingly infinite capacity for quiet reserve and decorous, delicate incuriosity, until drink-fuelled, they burst into extremes of hospitality and disinterested generosity. I can't help but envy their complacent, effortless confidence in drinking every day.
The ownership of a bank account excites a sage contempt for social morality. Customers too, I’d be the doormat of the decade if only they had a vote. And yet people had me down as this weakling, just because my anarchism never scared anybody. They were all slavering dogs, they liked to frighten people, or at least they didn’t mind. Me though, I just can’t get tough. I don’t feel the rage so much any more. I just get the anger. I’m no good at it though, really no good. Can I still be an anarchist, I wonder? You’d think then that this was the moment, but it wasn’t. How many pages have I written? I still haven’t attacked the state. How did I become such a coward?
What dynamism in our forebears!
Why, then, have we inherited so little of their pep, their defiant, demonic propulsion?
Have we been short-changed genetically, a gamete short of a character?
Not only could our grandparents out-stroll, out-write and out-work us, but they did it with such animal virility that it pales even our pasty, anaemic countenances that little bit more to think of trying to equal them in action.
What did they have that we lack?
What escaped transmission to us, or was it lost in the translation?
I have an idea, but only that.
A tentative, undogmatic notion that I am scarecly strong enough humbly to propose.
I get so tired you see ....
Passengers on one of Peter Burnett's delightful Skip Canyon Flys were stunned last week when Peter suddenly aimed the Cessner he was piloting straight for the pines.
Abruptly turning his light aircraft into a nose dive, and staring into the timber, Peter smiled his leathered face for the very last time.
Passengers were held securely in their berths as the aeroplane tumbled towards the hillside, where Peter aimed to sandwich it between the porch of his ex-wife's Sierra County retreat, and her nearby chicken run.
The passengers screamed loudly, and the final process of their deaths took a total 24 seconds. In the wreckage of the house, the eerie ruins of Peter's plane were later found to contain traces of tears and urine, and on Peter's face itself, a lot of human spit.
There is an undefinable air of nostalgia in the wild landscape now. Sierra County comprises not only beautiful scenery but tragic memories. Click here if you wish to travel further and partake of the journey, as a qualified and emotionally stable team of experts take you through the ruins.
Yes that was Peter Burnett. Including recent problems in publication and remorse this moo based website has made my Peter soggy. He's sorry. Heard one sermon too many and ended up feeling foggy. I'm bored with time and choosing my next word. 'Oatcake' is not in the Microsoft spell-checker so why should I not try and make computing better? Poor education means damn there goes another kid. Hence : I've given up on copyright. Look at your cancer. You don't need a specialist answer. I came to bring it and I brought it. Nobody will reply to my telescopic type topics cause my argument's too simple. Your argument is complex but I squeeze it and it bleeds like a red pimple. My trips to Inverness locked it and a further ninety-seven times I went to Fraserburgh, my teachers spoke shit but I blocked it, now a grown man, I proved it, I superseded their average line and I blew it, I combine a scholar with a shock caller, I still want to convert my poetry to pounds and dollars, but typically speaking, I BAKE like a Mohican, I'm not writing like they say for myself but for flip's sake writing for someone else. Now don't that make a change? Not to hate? I'm drunk enough to stay up late, drunker in my stature than a bull, but not drunk enough to catch you if you fall. I don't need to count my friends cause we're still starving artists, that's starving not hungry. I want to see the whole of Africa come and live in this country. I'd get out of bed for that. I can still spit out enough to end a four year drought, with my first line outs, and my second line shouts it out again. Written words of mouth flowing til my ink cartridge runs out. In the meantime I got Scots slang teachers and human internet creatures, broken pencils and scribble pad poets, dudes equipped with routers and dial tones, pimping mobile phones, none of that shit features, not in any advanced society. I'm obliged to live as I can be, that is to the same tune that could be a symphony. I mean to say : look at what the bastard petty Bourgeoisie did to me!
It was a bright autumn day and at the River Tay near Perth, I hung my feet. White cloud warmed the day as the breeze trembled upon the strange images below me in the water, and this was the sight, past St Stephen's Well, beside the rudest magic of the braying animals, that I recalled the happy years of my youth.
It was in this arcadia I heard several machines approach, and an unnatural fray of luxury-style business men forced upward a great cloud as they rose from nothing in their chariots, causing the kine to run and bellow in desperate anguish. The cars rode down the slope and threw darkness behind them. The shepherd fell aside and the vehicles rammed through his flock with colder mercy than a mudslide of broken stone, and I took to my feet as the world fell to this noise of war.
Broken people stared within the great upturned swathes of their homeland, where the tarmac rolled black over the wild flowers, and there in the wake behind the cars, was left great doubt, great greed, great noise, and several brochures saying that a twelve year anti corrosion warranty, together with major service intervals and a comprehensive customer care package, could all be mine, provided I chose to sell my soul and opt for the burred wood gear lever knob and the Votex 7 spoke alloy wheels, the colour keyed front and rear bumpers and front centre arm rest (exclusive of fleet management fees, sale assistance and leaseback). *
* A full range of credit facilities are available, ranging from Death on a Stick to Purloin Purchasing agreements linked to a variable Finance House base rate, using current Shit Adjustment Tables, while you operate your vehicle privately, and go mental at the wheel, allowing you great peace of mind, and a wide choice of mileages, to satisfy your rampant outward urge, as you attach yourself firmly to the aluminum trim strips, opt for retractable rear centre lap belts, front bumper integrated cockie covers, wankie washers, rear screen aerials, Sienna upholstery, Competition-Standard alloy nut and beef toppings, and automatic handbag release.
Palinarus stands for a certain will-to-failure, perhaps a repugnance to success, a desire to give up at the last moment, an urge towards loneliness, isolation and obscurity. Palinarus, in spite of his great ability and his conspicuous public position, deserted his post at the moment of victory, and opted for the unknown share …
This is published with The Combined Technical Jargon of Bev
These are all words and phrases which we have picked up from researches into the Scottish-Aberdonian way of speaking. We are three American students from New York who are in Scotland because of the unique words which they use here, and the Peter Burnett Website has let us publish what we have collected so far.
Aberdonian progress has not deviated since the Enlightened day that the modern town was built. The ancient map drawn by Gordon of Rothiemay in 1661 shows a trickle of a town with no design .... a selection of buildings laid in unsuitable conditions. After a hundred years of this construction style the people were in one fell swoop placed in line by designers. Within a century, these same people had begun to enjoy this linear living and put the solid granite effect into motion, and following the introduction of several ionic columns, porticoes and forward looking city plans, Aberdeen became is the epitome of modern rational behaviour, mens sana and lucid from street to street.
This year's winner is Keith Imray Imray with his novel
AW THE DUGS CAAED TOPAZ
Congratulations go to Kevin Imray Strathie of Forfar, the winner of the 2016 Forfar International Book Prize (formerly the Forfar Book Prize) for a first original novel set in, about, or by a person from Forfar. Aw The Dugs Caaed Topaz is an exciting debut and we look forward to seeing it on the shelves. Well done Keith!
My favourite passage in Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped is the episode in which David Balfour is shipwrecked on the island of Erraid. I sometimes think that Kidnapped goes downhill after the Erraid sequence. There is the hike across Mull and then the chasing through the heather, none of which attends the climatic drama of the early chapters, and the plot settles into true road-movie territory. Whenever I read the book, I always find myself returning to that old Erraid magic!
The brief spell David Balfour spends on Erraid is one of the most evocative in all of Stevenson, I think so. The chapter titled ‘The Islet’ is a Treasure Island in miniature; it is the ghastly pain of Jekyll and Hyde; it’s even its own travelogue. David Balfour, soaking, and becoming more wet and exhausted by the minute, living off mussels, some of which go down well, some of which make him vomit - he never knows which, and the isolation - all are stunning drama.
‘The Islet’ begins with these words: ‘With my stepping ashore I began the most unhappy part of my adventures’; and ends with these words, some of the best in the book: ‘I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.’
Only the first BBC version of Kidnapped makes an attempt to portray the Erraid set piece on film. The 1960 film replaces it with a mean Scots persona created by Duncan Macrae. In RLS’ Kidnapped, this character which appears in the chapter ‘Through the Isle of Mull’ is the impudent Gaelic cheat that attempts to guide Davie.
This year’s conference will follow this agenda:
Registration - on arrival please make your way to the Strathchunty hall where you will need to check in at the registration desks. Our conference team will be there to provide you with conference clothing.
Coffee - Move to the Fixed Mercury room for coffee and miniature Danish pastries.
Seminar - The Frippery of the Elves Revealed. A presentation by the court of the Elf King.
Coffee Interval - During coffee in the Killy Lounge, the elves will be on hand to answer general questions.
Animals Have Mercy for now and forever, it's the evil that men and women do that makes them come together. They winter frosted and froze you my friends but you got up again and stapled your twisted genome back on your head. Where animals snack and smack the bark, we inject the jewels to our pockets and they and meat meet mark