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Hoots & Havers - September 07
Oh, thou Demon Drink, thou fell destroyer,
The Curse of Society and its greatest Annoyer,
What hast thou done to Society, let me think?
I answer, thou hast caused the most of ills, thou Demon Drink.
That’s the opinion of the immortal Topaz McGonagall and there’s much wringing of hands at the moment about drink-induced loutishness and barfing on pavements. I have no special love for booze, which may allow me to consider sorting out the problem a bit of a no brainer. Apparently Scots spend about £1000 a head on alcohol. Since lots of Scots, particularly the half million under 9 years old, spend very little on it, this must mean that lots of people spend lots.
The web says there were 2,372 alcohol-related deaths in Scotland in 2005 and more than 45,000 hospital admissions due to the drug and this costs each of us, teetotalers included, £225 a head. In contrast 204 died of heroin abuse during the same year. Alcohol became 54% more affordable between 1980 and 2004. Surely common sense would tell us that this is the key? Why on earth doesn’t the government raise tax to fill this difference? A doubling of alcohol prices is surely desirable and obvious. It would cut consumption, particularly among the young and increase tax revenue. And if jobs in the booze trade are lost, Scots have plenty of other opportunities.
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I came across an old book of Scots proverbs the other day. The introduction said that proverbs are a mirror of the national character. If so, we’re a miserable, chippy, cynical bunch – and preoccupied by capital punishment.
It also showed that Lallans, the Lowland dialect, seems in a more dire state than Gaelic. Does anyone these days use words like wame, soom, lave, fushionless, bincs, or neive? And do Lowlanders not know that the rule ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’? You can decide which words mean in conventional English – benches, insipid, remainder, hand, swim and belly. Disjune means breakfast and that one I can work out - virtually unchanged from the French dejeuner and its first recorded use comes in 1491.
Some of the proverbs are too clever for me. I can understand ‘Ne’er marry a widow, unless her first man was hanged’ although I can’t think why it’s good advice, but ‘If the auld wife hadna been in the oven she ne’er would hae thocht o’ seeking her dochter [daughter] there’ defeats me utterly.
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Only very, very occasionally do I feel bound to attend conferences, lectures or presentations. The last one was on aspects of tourism put on by some section of the local authority. Many take the same form.
The computer is turned on and a slide appears. It normally takes some 15 seconds to assimilate the information, and then one is chomping for more. But it never works like that. The speaker presses the button, up comes his slide, he admires it for a bit, and then he begins to read, slowly, every jargon-filled word and explain every obvious point on his graph or graphic. Thus, instead of 15 seconds and comprehension, each slide will take a minute or more to be read and, as a guarantee, the room will be reverberating with the snores of the audience before the lecturer has droned his way through the first one. And any understanding of the speaker’s point is lost amid dreams.
This apparently is what is known as a power point presentation - or should it be PowerPoint© - and that is how it’s supposed to be done. I now ask whether there will be a power point presentation at any such function I am invited to attend. If so I refuse to go, knowing that it will be a mind-boggling bore, a waste of time and the only value of such event will be to insomniacs and those paid by someone else either to be there or to do the lecturing.
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I took the dog out for its final pee a week or two back, and stood around, as you do, waiting impatiently for it to do its duty when the moon suddenly appeared through the patchy cloud. I looked up, tried to work out if it was full and decided it still had a day to go.
As I watched a few stray wisps drifted slowly across, taking the shape of a fine straight nose, shading a couple of deep-set eyes, and a slightly curved mouth. So the moon slowly swung its head, gave me a sweet smile and gently turned away.
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Responding to the call in this column for assistance with identifying the above dwelling from an old photo reproduction, members of the Sinclair family in Kindallachan have provided confirmation that it is Convalloch, just below Tulliemet House and along from the old curling pond.
Between 1690 and 1889 the Dick family acquired most of the farms along that stretch to Kindallachan. It was they who built Tulliemet house
The Head Gamekeeper at Atholl Estates, a Mr Duncan, lived at Convalloch from the 1930s to the 50s. The field containing the giant oaktree in the photograph was let by the estate to locals for grazing and at one time the shooting over it was let by the Duke to Payne Galloway - reputedly of PG Tips fame.
Expressing delight and gratitiude for the feedback, the US roots-seeker who prompted the enquiry is now talking of visiting the area next spring with her father in law to explore further traces of her ancestor who was born there. Thus does Comment boost tourism in Highland Perthshire.
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