28 July 2013
690
R. Linda:
One of my friends from the old sod came by to say hello. I hadn't seen him in years, but we kept in touch by Christmas card. He had told me last Christmas he was planning a late July tour of northern New England, and if he was my way, he'd like to stop by for a wee chat. I gave him my number and told him what towns were close and, if he was by any of those, to give me a jingle.
He did, and we spent a very lovely Saturday catching up. Our wives got along famously, and the kiddos actually behaved to boot. That last would have me ringing the Vatican on miracles if I wasn't having such a wonderful time reminiscing.
My friend Ryan told me a story about an old flame of both of ours. Yes, I dated her first, and well, she was a bit off the deep end for me. Later, about four years later, Ryan dated her, and the same thing happened. So I asked him about dear Kathleen. What had become of her? Did he know?
"Well, da ting is Gabe, she got some land she did, an inheritance it wuz and she decided to build herself a wee cottage. Well, she got dis sketchy builder, you'll remember McEnroe?"
I nodded. I did, indeed. He was an old schoolmate who was ever so handy at pulling the wool over your eyes to make a few quid. It seems he went into the construction business, and by the time Kathleen caught up with him, he was very good at pulling wool.
"So McEnroe draws oop some plans he does, and he tells Katleen her wee cottage be hobbit-sized and unrealistic. And he says, "What if ye have someone coom ta stay? Where ye goin' ta poot em'?"
"Well, Katleen sees the business in dis and tinks she needs a bigger cottage, just a tad bigger she told 'em not anyting more den thot. So she trusted McEnroe, an' he gits da place started he does wit out showin' er his plons. She would hike up dere from da village to see how he was doin', and always it looked very busy oop dere.
"Now wot yer don't noe be dat Katleen took a room in da village of Rossmore which be so small dere are no lights. No street lights, no traffic lights, no door lights, no pub even so you noe rioght dere da place be dead by 9 p.m. Now Katleen had her property just outside da village up on da side of da mountain dere, not a big one, but it had views it did and she had about 35 acres all her own. Now McEnroe told her thot it would be costly pootin' da electric and water in an' sooch, but fur a price he could do it. Well, wot choice? So she paid da extra and construction lagged because dere was noe water table in da place McEnroe dug, so he dug quite a few holes before he found one had adequate water. Den da electric hadda be run way doon da mountain and da electric people were less den co-operative, so dere was a delay wit thot and wit out da electric ye couldn't run da water and well, it was a mess it wuz.
"So den da rains came and dis put off da buildin' and sooch for at least tree weeks. Katleen was so disgusted she decided to goo on to visit her parents in da nort and told McEnroe she expected da cottage completed by her return. Dis, he promised. But one of da many holes he dug had filled up wit da rain water cus he never filled 'em back in, and him not lookin' fell into one and broke his leg. So dat poot back buildin' even more. When Katleen got wind of thot, she went bull-is-tic, she rang himself oop and tole em' to git up dere even if on crutches or he'd git no more monee.
"An he did, he got it all done though he never did fill in dem holes! Da electric people came oot and dug dere trenches and strung da wires and Bob's yer uncle she was set ta goo. So from Newry, she cooms an' wot does she see? She sees dis very large cottage, tree times da size of wot she started wit and she was gobsmacked she wuz. So she rang up McEnroe, but he was not available, and he wasn't fur a year after dat. He had his monee an' he was done and gone.
"Katleen, near broke from McEnroe, found thot McEnroe paid off da electric werkers ta git da line in and it wasn't done rioght. Da electric would go off fur days on end and she wus callin' and cursin' dere arses but she got no satisfaction. No, nun. Add ta dis she had five bedrooms more den she needed! Wot ta do? Her electric bill alone wus astronomical when it did werk. So she rented da rooms and filled four of 'em. But the electricity kept goin' oot so she was goin' to lose her boarders and she couldn't afford thot. She looked into generators because some genius tole her thot would fix her problem, wit out explainin' how dey worked. She put in a full house gen an' her boarders stayed on when hearin' dat.
"Da genny was installed, an' da man who poot it in tole er dat it would coom on an test itself dat it wuz werkin, and thot she shouldn't be concerned it wuz supposed da do thot. He never tole er when it would coom on and she never taught ta ask. And it did its self-testing, but Katleen wuz never home when it did, so she never heard it.
"Da first time da power went out, it wuz about 3 a.m. Da genny wus near Katleen's end of da house and as yer can imagine it made a wee bit a racket when it turned on. Now Katleen bein' startled oot of her sleep, din't noe wot she wuz hearin'. So she got oop and went oot and goos round ta da back of da cottage and yup dere it wuz da genny hummin' wit power. Her first taught wuz it wuz testin' itself. But she wuzn't sure thot the power wuz really oot and dere wuz only one way to find oot.
"SO she gits dressed, gits in her motor and drives down ta da village ta see if dey 'ave lights. Now, Gabe, we are talking 3:30 in da morn, and we know da village has no street lights or any other lights, so why she did dis in her sleep-induced haze, I 'ave notta clue.
"She gits down ta da middle of da village and gits out of her motor, looks around, no lights. She listens, no gens going either. Nothin'. So she gits back in her motor and drives back ta her rather large cottage thot the villagers jokingly refer to as "Katleen's Manor" and slams out of her motor and inside and ta-da utility drawer in da kitchen, rummages through thot to find da generator instructions on how ta shut it down. I tell ya, Gabe, I'd not want to have Katleen help me in an emergency because I'd die fur sure wit a brain like hers gooin'.
"One of her boarders heard da slammin' around in da kitchen an' by dis time it be near 4 a.m. an' he cooms in, asks her wot be da matter. She tells 'em, an' being coffee less himself, it takes a few minutes and den he's sittin' next ta her at da table readin' how ta shut down da genny. Finally, another boarder cooms in havin' heard da two of em' bickering over da best way ta do thot, and dis one has presence of mind to throw a monkey wrench into dere werks by sayin', "Da genny cooms on when da power goos off, THOT BE WHY IT BE ON!"
"But I din't hear any gennys goin' in da village." Herself says to him.
"Thots because dere arr noon in da village!" Da overly tired and now harassed boarder replies.
"Huh?" Da two instruction-wielding persons say back.
"With a sigh of exasperation, the poor sleep-deprived fella tells her the village be but five houses, the village is used to da power goin' off and coomin' back on an' dey don't mind it. AND nun, no, not one has a generator. So her driven on doon dere a not hearin' one would be normal.
"But still dey dun't believe 'em, so he noes a ting or two about dese tings and he goos out wit 'em (with aid of a torch) and turns da ting off and guess wot? Da kitchen lights goo oot. He switches it back on an' da lights coom on! "Magic." He says."
I just had to share that with your bad self. It was wonderful for ME to hear of someone else's coffee-less brain acting like no brain at all. It sort of vindicated meself from some of the crazy things I do and have become a local legend for.
That's the story, such as it is or was, I hope it gave ya a smile.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
One of my friends from the old sod came by to say hello. I hadn't seen him in years, but we kept in touch by Christmas card. He had told me last Christmas he was planning a late July tour of northern New England, and if he was my way, he'd like to stop by for a wee chat. I gave him my number and told him what towns were close and, if he was by any of those, to give me a jingle.
He did, and we spent a very lovely Saturday catching up. Our wives got along famously, and the kiddos actually behaved to boot. That last would have me ringing the Vatican on miracles if I wasn't having such a wonderful time reminiscing.
My friend Ryan told me a story about an old flame of both of ours. Yes, I dated her first, and well, she was a bit off the deep end for me. Later, about four years later, Ryan dated her, and the same thing happened. So I asked him about dear Kathleen. What had become of her? Did he know?
"Well, da ting is Gabe, she got some land she did, an inheritance it wuz and she decided to build herself a wee cottage. Well, she got dis sketchy builder, you'll remember McEnroe?"
I nodded. I did, indeed. He was an old schoolmate who was ever so handy at pulling the wool over your eyes to make a few quid. It seems he went into the construction business, and by the time Kathleen caught up with him, he was very good at pulling wool.
"So McEnroe draws oop some plans he does, and he tells Katleen her wee cottage be hobbit-sized and unrealistic. And he says, "What if ye have someone coom ta stay? Where ye goin' ta poot em'?"
"Well, Katleen sees the business in dis and tinks she needs a bigger cottage, just a tad bigger she told 'em not anyting more den thot. So she trusted McEnroe, an' he gits da place started he does wit out showin' er his plons. She would hike up dere from da village to see how he was doin', and always it looked very busy oop dere.
"Now wot yer don't noe be dat Katleen took a room in da village of Rossmore which be so small dere are no lights. No street lights, no traffic lights, no door lights, no pub even so you noe rioght dere da place be dead by 9 p.m. Now Katleen had her property just outside da village up on da side of da mountain dere, not a big one, but it had views it did and she had about 35 acres all her own. Now McEnroe told her thot it would be costly pootin' da electric and water in an' sooch, but fur a price he could do it. Well, wot choice? So she paid da extra and construction lagged because dere was noe water table in da place McEnroe dug, so he dug quite a few holes before he found one had adequate water. Den da electric hadda be run way doon da mountain and da electric people were less den co-operative, so dere was a delay wit thot and wit out da electric ye couldn't run da water and well, it was a mess it wuz.
"So den da rains came and dis put off da buildin' and sooch for at least tree weeks. Katleen was so disgusted she decided to goo on to visit her parents in da nort and told McEnroe she expected da cottage completed by her return. Dis, he promised. But one of da many holes he dug had filled up wit da rain water cus he never filled 'em back in, and him not lookin' fell into one and broke his leg. So dat poot back buildin' even more. When Katleen got wind of thot, she went bull-is-tic, she rang himself oop and tole em' to git up dere even if on crutches or he'd git no more monee.
"An he did, he got it all done though he never did fill in dem holes! Da electric people came oot and dug dere trenches and strung da wires and Bob's yer uncle she was set ta goo. So from Newry, she cooms an' wot does she see? She sees dis very large cottage, tree times da size of wot she started wit and she was gobsmacked she wuz. So she rang up McEnroe, but he was not available, and he wasn't fur a year after dat. He had his monee an' he was done and gone.
"Katleen, near broke from McEnroe, found thot McEnroe paid off da electric werkers ta git da line in and it wasn't done rioght. Da electric would go off fur days on end and she wus callin' and cursin' dere arses but she got no satisfaction. No, nun. Add ta dis she had five bedrooms more den she needed! Wot ta do? Her electric bill alone wus astronomical when it did werk. So she rented da rooms and filled four of 'em. But the electricity kept goin' oot so she was goin' to lose her boarders and she couldn't afford thot. She looked into generators because some genius tole her thot would fix her problem, wit out explainin' how dey worked. She put in a full house gen an' her boarders stayed on when hearin' dat.
"Da genny was installed, an' da man who poot it in tole er dat it would coom on an test itself dat it wuz werkin, and thot she shouldn't be concerned it wuz supposed da do thot. He never tole er when it would coom on and she never taught ta ask. And it did its self-testing, but Katleen wuz never home when it did, so she never heard it.
"Da first time da power went out, it wuz about 3 a.m. Da genny wus near Katleen's end of da house and as yer can imagine it made a wee bit a racket when it turned on. Now Katleen bein' startled oot of her sleep, din't noe wot she wuz hearin'. So she got oop and went oot and goos round ta da back of da cottage and yup dere it wuz da genny hummin' wit power. Her first taught wuz it wuz testin' itself. But she wuzn't sure thot the power wuz really oot and dere wuz only one way to find oot.
"SO she gits dressed, gits in her motor and drives down ta da village ta see if dey 'ave lights. Now, Gabe, we are talking 3:30 in da morn, and we know da village has no street lights or any other lights, so why she did dis in her sleep-induced haze, I 'ave notta clue.
"She gits down ta da middle of da village and gits out of her motor, looks around, no lights. She listens, no gens going either. Nothin'. So she gits back in her motor and drives back ta her rather large cottage thot the villagers jokingly refer to as "Katleen's Manor" and slams out of her motor and inside and ta-da utility drawer in da kitchen, rummages through thot to find da generator instructions on how ta shut it down. I tell ya, Gabe, I'd not want to have Katleen help me in an emergency because I'd die fur sure wit a brain like hers gooin'.
"One of her boarders heard da slammin' around in da kitchen an' by dis time it be near 4 a.m. an' he cooms in, asks her wot be da matter. She tells 'em, an' being coffee less himself, it takes a few minutes and den he's sittin' next ta her at da table readin' how ta shut down da genny. Finally, another boarder cooms in havin' heard da two of em' bickering over da best way ta do thot, and dis one has presence of mind to throw a monkey wrench into dere werks by sayin', "Da genny cooms on when da power goos off, THOT BE WHY IT BE ON!"
"But I din't hear any gennys goin' in da village." Herself says to him.
"Thots because dere arr noon in da village!" Da overly tired and now harassed boarder replies.
"Huh?" Da two instruction-wielding persons say back.
"With a sigh of exasperation, the poor sleep-deprived fella tells her the village be but five houses, the village is used to da power goin' off and coomin' back on an' dey don't mind it. AND nun, no, not one has a generator. So her driven on doon dere a not hearin' one would be normal.
"But still dey dun't believe 'em, so he noes a ting or two about dese tings and he goos out wit 'em (with aid of a torch) and turns da ting off and guess wot? Da kitchen lights goo oot. He switches it back on an' da lights coom on! "Magic." He says."
I just had to share that with your bad self. It was wonderful for ME to hear of someone else's coffee-less brain acting like no brain at all. It sort of vindicated meself from some of the crazy things I do and have become a local legend for.
That's the story, such as it is or was, I hope it gave ya a smile.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
