More Roamerisms from the early 1990s
Only the atmosphere was electric along the Road to the Isles last Wednesday. And the villagers and local business folk in Mallaig, Morar and Arisaig were the ones who remained highly charged after Hydro-Electric shut down their supply for the entire day. The result was that shops, hotels, petrol stations and the area’s 1,500 population were totally powerless from 9am till 5pm. ‘The upgrading of existing facilities’ was planned. But it was panned by Mallaig and District Chamber of Commerce.
Incidentally, have you experienced the dreadful radio reception around Banavie? Just an airwave or two away from the relay station. The car radio goes completely wonky between the ScotRail Nerve Centre and Banavie Bridge Mission Control. I reckon the nerve centre must have caused it. I know mission control jams the bridge occasionally – but surely it can’t jam the wireless as well?
Patsy fancied a bet on the TV racing. She keeps a pile of betting slips in the house, and Donald was despatched to Ladbrokes to put on her wager. Later, as Patsy settled down to watch the races she noticed that her original filled-in slip was still on the sideboard. It transpired that Donald had picked up a similar sized piece of blank paper – on which was written ‘Bottle of Gaviscon’ and had then headed off to the bookie’s, where he got some blank looks.
Who coined the name ‘Lochaber Opportunities Centre’? Particularly when the current planning application names it - eminently sensibly and descriptively – ‘Training and Further Education Centre’. I asked the question at the Lochaber Limited press conference, but nobody accepted responsibility for calling the £1.4 million establishment ‘Lochaber Opportunities Centre’. Ach, well, what’s in a name? As long as it ‘delivers’ (that’s the in-word) training and further education. After the press conference the divisional planning committee sat down to rule on the eventual location on An Aird for the LOC. Three out of the seven elected members were present, causing a colleague to ask for her ‘disappointment at the lack of councillor interest’ to be recorded.
Us yins in the local meejah were intrigued to read in the minutes of a recent council sub-committee meeting that the leisure services co-ordinator was to investigate whether a particular applicant represents – and I quote – ‘a bonified charitable organisation’. Aye, that descriptive term has come a long way since the days we used to sign our names as, for example, Andy Capp, Yuri Gagarin and Willie Bauld in the visitors’ books in Lochaber hotels so we could get a drink on a Sunday … as bona fide travellers!
The continuing postponement of what was supposed to be an urgent liaison committee meeting has been riling a lot of councillors. I gather that an explanation – by fax – from the district council that several alternative dates are being considered was met by a one word response from a regional councillor. ‘Crap!’ he wrote. To which the district council reply was: ‘Bearing in mind your espousing of Gaelic, should not your comment have been ‘Cac’?
In the tourist office, a visiting American had a right rant about the lack of a dedicated bus depot in Fort William. ‘I got off the bus from Glasgow (he emphasised the ‘Gow’ as if pronouncing that well-known Caol surname) and was faced with a plastic shack. Fort William? They had better facilities in Fort Apache!’
It’s an upside down world when you’re from Oz and domiciled in
Caol. And so it was that ‘Aussie Betty’ managed to get lost in Caol, well in advance of any seasonal celebrations.
A few ‘one/two liners’ now from the ‘pre-Roamer’ columns of bygone days. (1) 1961 Fort William Reading and Recreation Club had its lease terminated in August, 1961, having occupied its Monzie Square premises –provided by the Fairfax Lucy family 60 years previously. (2) 1964. Sheriff Patrick was addressed in court in Fort William as ‘Your Worship’. The sheriff replied: ‘If you promise not to call me Your Worship, you may say what you like, because that wording is totally inappropriate in a Scottish court.’ (3) 1966, The average height for men in Scotland is five feet, eight inches, but in Fort William the average is five feet ten. (4) 1970. Father John Morrison made local golfing history at Spean Bridge when he holed his tee shot at the seventh. Meanwhile, in that same year, Fort William Curling Club celebrated its centenary.
Fort William’s very own Ceremony of the Keys occurred in town at the weekend. Message bag in one hand and door key poised in the other, the bearer skited on the icy pavement and executed a rear-end spin – with tuck. In sympathy, her bunch of keys went into an arc, and plopped down the Middle Street drain. Thankfully, help was at hand. A worthy grasped the brander and, after executing an arms length ‘gunge plunge’, succeeded in extricating the keys.
What caused Alistair’s cat to change colour? The three-feet-long replacement Arrowslim lighting tube for the kitchen which he bought after its predecessor packed in. ‘But when I switched it on it turned out to be an ultra violet disco light.’ Alistair complained. ‘And the cat looked positively fluorescent.’