may isle

may isle

CONTENTS

Welcome

Welcome to 'A Frample', a confused tangle of columns, prose poems and lyrics. It's not so much a blog as an online folder, lying somewhere between a drawer and the bin.


Bidin’ in a holiday village



July 29, 2019

Ah’m biding noo in a holiday village
Ah canna get parked at ma door
Had to carry ma groceries twa hunder yairds
It wisnae like this afore.

There isnae a single parking space
Onywhere on ma street
There’s six fowk rentin’ Puffin Cottage
An’ anither 12 in the Puffin’s Retreat.

A group wur unloading a Range Rover
Wi a’ kinds o’ fancy stuff fur thur stay
But the erse fell oot o’ a Waitrose bag
An a’ their Prosecco rolled doon the brae.

There wis bawlin’, bubbles an’ broken glass
An’ a’ that bevvy goin’ doon the drain.
But Isa Thamson’s dug got tore in
An’ got steaming oot its brain.

While this was going on a car pulled up
Wi’ a hen party fae Milngavie.
Each an’ every one wiz dressed like a nun
And they shouted at a passer by.

“Oi what you lookin’ at?
Have you no’ seen a nun before.”
“Aye”, says the worthy, “there’s eight on the pier
An’ anither six doon the shore.”

Now three German visitors were sittin’ oan a bench
Tryin’ to make sense of whit was goin’ on
When a group walking the coastal path
Just happened to come along.

They didnae respond to the foreign greeting
An a’body stopped in their tracks.
When the EU was mentioned
Along with some Brexit wisecracks.

But then there was a helluva hullabaloo
An’ someone goin’ absolutely doolally
At the garden stag-do at No12,
Now renamed the Puffin Chalet.

The beer had been too close to the barbecue
And they’d managed to explode a keg.
But the groom-to-be was more concerned
Wi’ Isa’s drunken dug humpin’ on his leg.

Well the nuns a’ thought this funny
An’ so did the Range Rover crew.
The Germans were picking up glass
An’ the walkers were helpin’ too.

I weaved my way through them
Didnae know what to say or do
When I was stopped by the Hell’s Angels next door
On a self-catering break at Puffin View.

They’d been looking for some peace and quiet
A place for a break an’ a rest.
The street they were in last year was quieter
When they stayed at that quaint Puffin Nest.

“Oh, ye cannae bide there noo,” I telt them.
“That’s no for the likes of you and me.
“It’s only fur writers, artists, musicians
and those that have been on the TV.”

With a’ this demand fur holiday hames
I’m putting up a ‘For Sale’ sign
I’m moving to a place that look less busy
I think St Kilda will do me fine.











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