DORIC COLUMN ROBBIE SHEPHERD

Hello-hello-hello.

Is that the exchange at Rhynie? Is that you Beldie?

Foo ye daein quine? THE BANKER – SCOTLAND THE WHAT?

At quote fae een o ma favourite skits o the late lamentit trio wis first perform’t in 1973, roon aboot the taileyn o the aul telephone wi the separate bit held tae yer lug an the local exchanges wis far mainly weemin fowk wid mak the contac bi pluggin in the different cords in the richt holies warl-wide.

In es case the banker wis makkin a caa tae Germany an, efter the pleasantries, wis becomin a thochtie short in the trot thinkin Beldie micht be luggin in – “Get aff that line, quine, or I’ll get the Gestapo tae ye!”

I’ll sweir I wid even o swappit places wi the bletherin banker on aa ma trauchles an tribbles es last feow days ower the heids o nae een bit twa eeseless phones hirplin alang.

Tae nae bore ye wi aa the ongauns back an fore, it aa yokit wi ma landline cheengin fae copper tae fibre an the engineer still tae come back tae sort something or anither, tho at didna caase serious problems.

The verra neist day tho ma heid wis in ma hauns as did I nae boo doon an oot poppit ma mobile phone fae a different provider, stracht intae the pot, at fair pit the cat amang the canaries.

Efter three veesits tae the mobile fowkie’s shop in the Bon Accord Centre an the deil kens foo mony oors wytin on the phone wi aa the repeatit messages tellin’s foo afa busy they are bit tae haud on as we’re sae important tae them – o Beldie far are ye? – aa wis sortit. Weel the hinmaist trip wis tae ging back hame for ma drivin licence or passport for identification afore I cwid get a new sim caird. Fit? Jist for a wee mobile, I wisna fleein tae Montreal, far less drivin tae Montgarrie.

Calm’t doon noo efter aa the snorl o’ the tale o the twa phones, it wis time tae relax, pick up the paper wi a dram bit…. readin the P&J fit’s es tae me noo? Can it be at the Scottish Government are considerin banning alcohol sponsorship for baith sports an ither live events. The verra beauty o ruggit landscapes an oor ain unique fusky trails draas the toorists an brings in loads o siller for the country’s kypie.

Were nae a nation o drunken drooths an as for the excuse o ony publicity haein an effect on bairns, eence again the responsibility is liftit aff errin parents. Ay, time tae think again.

Nivver myn it dis gie me the chunce tae lat ye in on a wee secret I hidna time for in a recent column on the death o Libby Lafferty fa promotit sae weel the name o Glenfiddich on the Hielin Games scene. Alang wi lunches at the hivvies stance Libby hid a puckle miniatures o the famed Glenfiddich in triangular shape at jist happen’t at twa o them fittit sae weel intae ma sporran an, bein thirsty wark yappin ower the mic the hale day, she wid catch me in the passin speirin gin ma batteries were needin rechairgin, a lovely lady.

Afore I feenish here’s a thocht. I’d afa like tae hear fae ony ladies on their days wirkin at the local exchanges in Beldie’s era. Plenty stories ere surely.

See ye neist wikkeyn.