02 October 2010
310
R. Linda:
Not long ago, I was subject to the interoffice romance of two of me associates. They had been flirting for years, married to others and then one got divorced and finally the other got divorced, and these two lovebirds have hooked up with an engagement ring and a wedding date. We all had a glass of sparkling cider and a piece of cake at lunch hour in honour of the upcoming nuptials. Most of us could have barfed, but we did the standup thing and saluted, congratulated, shook hands and slapped backs and then went back to work. Obligation over.
So I was hoping that was the end of it, but no, today I got an engraved invitation to the October wedding. Now I have to go out and buy a present and find a way to wheedle out of showing up. Being in this perplexed mood, I got an email from Chris Weasil. I decided that Weasil's comic departure from me brooding over an event I did not want to be a part of, might take me away from the doldrums so I opened his email. It was filled with the craziness that is Weasil and it did take me mind off the other. I wrote him back and he picked up instantly I be a bit off. What was going on, did he have to make a trip to me house to find out or would I spill the beans. I decided I'd rather spill the beans as it was then be face-to-face with the Weasil. I know coward's way out, but hey, every time he shows up I get into trouble.
His advice to me was, hey it's a party go have some fun, drink, eat and make merry. Well, of course, if I was the Weasil there would be no hesitation since the lad lives for frivolity to the extreme, now that I think about it, I realise frivolity is an extreme sport with him. I can think of a few Scottish parties and a few haggis tossing sessions when he had all his guests in their cups. I also remember he held these things at MY house and the cleaning up of smashed haggis the next day was enough to cleanse one's stomach a few times over. Anyway, he told me a story I found amusing, but in no way do I want to replicate his behaviour at the marriage of two office associates.
It seems it was his uncle's wedding at his father's palatial castle in the Highlands of Scotland. Right there the setting seems right for a romance novel. And the way it turned out there was enough hanky panky going on, had I been there, I would have written something to rival Jane Austen. But I wasn't, and the hanky panky isn't what interests me, it was the Weasil's sudden drop from the heights. And since Weasil was there, this is how it came down.
There were twelve groomsmen including our beloved Weasil. All are related to the groom. The groom looks like Daniel Day-Lewis so we are talking major league good-looking men folk in kilts. The day before the nuptials the wedding party, his and hers, were ensconced in the castle getting ready with much joy and excitement for the rehearsal dinner. The families, his and hers, were also there, and being we are talking Scottish upper crust here, it was long dresses and tartan sashes for the ladies and kilts and Prince Charlie jackets for the men. At the appointed hour, the heads of both families met in the library for a celebratory drink of the finest scotch Scotland has to offer. Meanwhile, in the hall, the pipers had gathered and the servants were all lined up from the back door forward towards the front. Right on the mark of the hour, the pipers started to gear up their bagpipes at the bottom of the hallway main staircase and suddenly the strain of Scotland the Brave could be heard all over the castle, even up the massive hearths and through all the fireplaces in the castle. That was the signal festivities were about to begin.
The wedding party and family members all descended to the hall and they formed a line with the servants from the front end of the castle to the back. And then, yes this is Weasil's favourite part of the fun, the sheep were let in by the castle's head ghillie and herded through the tunnel formed by the servants and guests from the back end of the castle to the front and down the old stone steps. The sheep running through was some old tradition of the castle, that harboured out with the "auld" and in with the new. I do wonder if me sainted mam got her New Year's of opening one door and shouting the old year out and then opening the other to welcome the new year in from such a practice. I'll have to ask, though I be sure there isn't an ounce of Scottish blood in our Irish family.
I know what you're thinking, don't give me sainted little apple-cheeked mam any new ideas. She could bring sheep in and try this at me house since she and me da will be visiting over New Year's. Oi!
Anyway, once the sheep were out and the doors shut, the celebrants made their way to the banquet hall and I would think more than a few servants stayed behind to clean up. Once the feasting was in progress and the toasting was in full swing, the pipers came back. They walked around playing melodies on their bagpipes that were very merry Weasil told me, and then dessert was brought in, they disappeared and more toasting began while a small band of musicians set up and afterwards, there was music, dancing and generally whooping it up. One of those nights a good time was had by all as they say at me office.
But Mr. Weasil had found our dear friend Wolfie (best man), and a cousin he calls by the man's screen name Orion. I think the man's name is really O'Ryan. Anyway, these three when together cannot behave and it is mostly Weasil's fault. They retired with bottles to the library where a drinking contest of sorts began. This is especially interesting since Wolfie has no spleen because of an accident long ago and so drinking straight scotch one would think would be a deadly endeavour. But no, the three of them have hollow legs, and so the contest began. This went on for a good two hours while the fun was in the great hall, the three of them were managing to fly without leaving the ground. The first to fall under the table was Orion. Weasil said one moment he was sitting at table, and the next he was gone. The laddie had fallen under it and was laid out nicely in a deep snooze. What to do? The only thing to do, was now to toast the fallen comrade and so the remaining two continued on. A lot of slurring of speech and crude jokes, not to mention a few risque limericks on Wolfie's part kept the smaller party flowing, quite literally. It got to be another hour, the celebration going full tilt in the banquet hall, and the drinking of the laird's finest scotch still going strong. The two of them had gone from one brand of scotch whiskey to many others until blurry-eyed and quite be-sodden, they red-eyed each other and a game of Truth or Dare ensued.
Wolfie, ever the more clever of the two, dared Weasil a ride on his father's crystal chandelier. So out to the hallway, they staggered. Under the massive crystals was a highly polished antique table passed down in Weasil's family for more generations than he can count. In order to get to the chandelier, they rid the table of the flower decorations and with a boost from Wolfie, Weasil was on the tabletop. He decided the chandelier was within jumping distance and after two attempts and almost breaking his arse falling on the antique table, decided to try to steady himself long enough to measure the distance a good leap would take to grab hold of the lighted monstrosity and swing.
"So, are ye goin' ta do it or neigh?" Wolfie lifting glass to lips asked after the long pause of Weasil eyeing the thing.
"Gi' me a mo won't ya?" Replied Weasil still measuring.
"For God's sake lad, if ye don't do it soon, everyone will be out and you'll get caught standin' on yer fathah's fav table. Be hell ta pay." Said Wolfie pretending to look away bored. He knew this would spur the young foolish Weasil to act. And he did, one leap and he had hold of the arm and with the tinkling of crystals swung himself to and fro like he was riding a trapeze, or as Wolfie later told me, "He looked a monkey on a swing, he did. How he didn't bring down that chandelier, I'll never fathom." Seeing an opportunity for blackmail later, Wolfie seized hold of a camera but before he could get the shot off, the laddie came flying off the chandelier. But being Weasil he did himself proud with a victory dance on the old tabletop. But not before ordering Wolfie to bring him a sword a suit of armour was holding. This done, Wolfie snapped just before said table came crashing down Weasil and all.
Wolfie spit out his scotch in laughter but was quick to leave the area while a stunned Weasil sat in what was now polished kindling wood. Luckily only a few heard the crash, one being the groom and another groomsman. When they saw the carnage they lifted the young troublemaker out of the wreckage, seeing he was perfectly fine, if not totally drunk, they took him to his room and locked him in. Then they came down to a few servants looking in wonder at the smashed table. Well, you can imagine what the laird of the manor thought when he came upon this scene after going down to his wine cellar to pick out a few more bottles for his guests.
The servants told the truth they had no clue, and the groom and groomsman offered nothing saving the truth for . . . blackmail later. Yes, the young Weasil had got himself into a situation. Let me stop here and say this about Weasil at that time. The lad was and is a great hacker of computers, especially the computers of those close to him. They would turn on their machines to find not the usual wallpaper but a wallpaper of Weasil's face sneering at them. They would also find their new mail wasn't new, it was read and by whom? Weasil of course, so he knew everyone's business. They also would find they had new profiles even if they didn't have a profile. And what the profile said was never something one would want in their profile. Pictures would be altered, and all kinds of things were done to the unsuspecting of his victims. So to have anything on the Weasil was a way to ensure (until he figured a way around it) how to keep him behaving and out of their accounts. Thus, the truth was kept from his irate father.
But his father suspected his son of having a hand in the destruction of an ancient and valuable piece of castle furniture. And why, because Weasil seemed to disappear from the festivities. Wolfie wandered to his lady like he'd never been gone, Orion stumbled in unashamedly drunk to the gills and made merry before he passed out again and was carried to his room, and the groom and groomsman drank quietly in a corner laughing with each other over some joke they shared. The only one missing was the errant and rightly accused Weasil, who you will remember was locked in his rooms. But not for long, the drunken youth made a rope of bed sheets and got himself out his four-story window to a walk on the second story. How he didn't kill himself, I'll never know. There he found an open window and through a guest's room he exited and made a late, if not dishevelled appearance all the same. This did not go unnoticed by his father or the rest of the knowledgeable gents who knew for certain of Weasil's culpability.
Daddy eyed the young miscreant for a long time before he took him aside by his ear and asked him flat out if he broke the antique table. To which our dear friend Weasil lied like a rug. Yes, he did. To this day, Daddy has suspicions but no real proof unless he should happen to read this, that he was right in his suspicions. I will backtrack and tell you that Wolfie, Orion, the groom, and his man, were not bothered by Weasil's antics in their computers for a very long time after. But as it is with Weasil, he did figure a way around it. He in turn was patient and waited until he had something on each one of them and like Jumping Jack Flash he was back at it.
So here is the photo of the young "whippersnapper" dancing on the late antique table that his father highly prized.
R. Linda:
Not long ago, I was subject to the interoffice romance of two of me associates. They had been flirting for years, married to others and then one got divorced and finally the other got divorced, and these two lovebirds have hooked up with an engagement ring and a wedding date. We all had a glass of sparkling cider and a piece of cake at lunch hour in honour of the upcoming nuptials. Most of us could have barfed, but we did the standup thing and saluted, congratulated, shook hands and slapped backs and then went back to work. Obligation over.
So I was hoping that was the end of it, but no, today I got an engraved invitation to the October wedding. Now I have to go out and buy a present and find a way to wheedle out of showing up. Being in this perplexed mood, I got an email from Chris Weasil. I decided that Weasil's comic departure from me brooding over an event I did not want to be a part of, might take me away from the doldrums so I opened his email. It was filled with the craziness that is Weasil and it did take me mind off the other. I wrote him back and he picked up instantly I be a bit off. What was going on, did he have to make a trip to me house to find out or would I spill the beans. I decided I'd rather spill the beans as it was then be face-to-face with the Weasil. I know coward's way out, but hey, every time he shows up I get into trouble.
His advice to me was, hey it's a party go have some fun, drink, eat and make merry. Well, of course, if I was the Weasil there would be no hesitation since the lad lives for frivolity to the extreme, now that I think about it, I realise frivolity is an extreme sport with him. I can think of a few Scottish parties and a few haggis tossing sessions when he had all his guests in their cups. I also remember he held these things at MY house and the cleaning up of smashed haggis the next day was enough to cleanse one's stomach a few times over. Anyway, he told me a story I found amusing, but in no way do I want to replicate his behaviour at the marriage of two office associates.
It seems it was his uncle's wedding at his father's palatial castle in the Highlands of Scotland. Right there the setting seems right for a romance novel. And the way it turned out there was enough hanky panky going on, had I been there, I would have written something to rival Jane Austen. But I wasn't, and the hanky panky isn't what interests me, it was the Weasil's sudden drop from the heights. And since Weasil was there, this is how it came down.
There were twelve groomsmen including our beloved Weasil. All are related to the groom. The groom looks like Daniel Day-Lewis so we are talking major league good-looking men folk in kilts. The day before the nuptials the wedding party, his and hers, were ensconced in the castle getting ready with much joy and excitement for the rehearsal dinner. The families, his and hers, were also there, and being we are talking Scottish upper crust here, it was long dresses and tartan sashes for the ladies and kilts and Prince Charlie jackets for the men. At the appointed hour, the heads of both families met in the library for a celebratory drink of the finest scotch Scotland has to offer. Meanwhile, in the hall, the pipers had gathered and the servants were all lined up from the back door forward towards the front. Right on the mark of the hour, the pipers started to gear up their bagpipes at the bottom of the hallway main staircase and suddenly the strain of Scotland the Brave could be heard all over the castle, even up the massive hearths and through all the fireplaces in the castle. That was the signal festivities were about to begin.
The wedding party and family members all descended to the hall and they formed a line with the servants from the front end of the castle to the back. And then, yes this is Weasil's favourite part of the fun, the sheep were let in by the castle's head ghillie and herded through the tunnel formed by the servants and guests from the back end of the castle to the front and down the old stone steps. The sheep running through was some old tradition of the castle, that harboured out with the "auld" and in with the new. I do wonder if me sainted mam got her New Year's of opening one door and shouting the old year out and then opening the other to welcome the new year in from such a practice. I'll have to ask, though I be sure there isn't an ounce of Scottish blood in our Irish family.
I know what you're thinking, don't give me sainted little apple-cheeked mam any new ideas. She could bring sheep in and try this at me house since she and me da will be visiting over New Year's. Oi!
Anyway, once the sheep were out and the doors shut, the celebrants made their way to the banquet hall and I would think more than a few servants stayed behind to clean up. Once the feasting was in progress and the toasting was in full swing, the pipers came back. They walked around playing melodies on their bagpipes that were very merry Weasil told me, and then dessert was brought in, they disappeared and more toasting began while a small band of musicians set up and afterwards, there was music, dancing and generally whooping it up. One of those nights a good time was had by all as they say at me office.
But Mr. Weasil had found our dear friend Wolfie (best man), and a cousin he calls by the man's screen name Orion. I think the man's name is really O'Ryan. Anyway, these three when together cannot behave and it is mostly Weasil's fault. They retired with bottles to the library where a drinking contest of sorts began. This is especially interesting since Wolfie has no spleen because of an accident long ago and so drinking straight scotch one would think would be a deadly endeavour. But no, the three of them have hollow legs, and so the contest began. This went on for a good two hours while the fun was in the great hall, the three of them were managing to fly without leaving the ground. The first to fall under the table was Orion. Weasil said one moment he was sitting at table, and the next he was gone. The laddie had fallen under it and was laid out nicely in a deep snooze. What to do? The only thing to do, was now to toast the fallen comrade and so the remaining two continued on. A lot of slurring of speech and crude jokes, not to mention a few risque limericks on Wolfie's part kept the smaller party flowing, quite literally. It got to be another hour, the celebration going full tilt in the banquet hall, and the drinking of the laird's finest scotch still going strong. The two of them had gone from one brand of scotch whiskey to many others until blurry-eyed and quite be-sodden, they red-eyed each other and a game of Truth or Dare ensued.
Wolfie, ever the more clever of the two, dared Weasil a ride on his father's crystal chandelier. So out to the hallway, they staggered. Under the massive crystals was a highly polished antique table passed down in Weasil's family for more generations than he can count. In order to get to the chandelier, they rid the table of the flower decorations and with a boost from Wolfie, Weasil was on the tabletop. He decided the chandelier was within jumping distance and after two attempts and almost breaking his arse falling on the antique table, decided to try to steady himself long enough to measure the distance a good leap would take to grab hold of the lighted monstrosity and swing.
"So, are ye goin' ta do it or neigh?" Wolfie lifting glass to lips asked after the long pause of Weasil eyeing the thing.
"Gi' me a mo won't ya?" Replied Weasil still measuring.
"For God's sake lad, if ye don't do it soon, everyone will be out and you'll get caught standin' on yer fathah's fav table. Be hell ta pay." Said Wolfie pretending to look away bored. He knew this would spur the young foolish Weasil to act. And he did, one leap and he had hold of the arm and with the tinkling of crystals swung himself to and fro like he was riding a trapeze, or as Wolfie later told me, "He looked a monkey on a swing, he did. How he didn't bring down that chandelier, I'll never fathom." Seeing an opportunity for blackmail later, Wolfie seized hold of a camera but before he could get the shot off, the laddie came flying off the chandelier. But being Weasil he did himself proud with a victory dance on the old tabletop. But not before ordering Wolfie to bring him a sword a suit of armour was holding. This done, Wolfie snapped just before said table came crashing down Weasil and all.
Wolfie spit out his scotch in laughter but was quick to leave the area while a stunned Weasil sat in what was now polished kindling wood. Luckily only a few heard the crash, one being the groom and another groomsman. When they saw the carnage they lifted the young troublemaker out of the wreckage, seeing he was perfectly fine, if not totally drunk, they took him to his room and locked him in. Then they came down to a few servants looking in wonder at the smashed table. Well, you can imagine what the laird of the manor thought when he came upon this scene after going down to his wine cellar to pick out a few more bottles for his guests.
The servants told the truth they had no clue, and the groom and groomsman offered nothing saving the truth for . . . blackmail later. Yes, the young Weasil had got himself into a situation. Let me stop here and say this about Weasil at that time. The lad was and is a great hacker of computers, especially the computers of those close to him. They would turn on their machines to find not the usual wallpaper but a wallpaper of Weasil's face sneering at them. They would also find their new mail wasn't new, it was read and by whom? Weasil of course, so he knew everyone's business. They also would find they had new profiles even if they didn't have a profile. And what the profile said was never something one would want in their profile. Pictures would be altered, and all kinds of things were done to the unsuspecting of his victims. So to have anything on the Weasil was a way to ensure (until he figured a way around it) how to keep him behaving and out of their accounts. Thus, the truth was kept from his irate father.
But his father suspected his son of having a hand in the destruction of an ancient and valuable piece of castle furniture. And why, because Weasil seemed to disappear from the festivities. Wolfie wandered to his lady like he'd never been gone, Orion stumbled in unashamedly drunk to the gills and made merry before he passed out again and was carried to his room, and the groom and groomsman drank quietly in a corner laughing with each other over some joke they shared. The only one missing was the errant and rightly accused Weasil, who you will remember was locked in his rooms. But not for long, the drunken youth made a rope of bed sheets and got himself out his four-story window to a walk on the second story. How he didn't kill himself, I'll never know. There he found an open window and through a guest's room he exited and made a late, if not dishevelled appearance all the same. This did not go unnoticed by his father or the rest of the knowledgeable gents who knew for certain of Weasil's culpability.
Daddy eyed the young miscreant for a long time before he took him aside by his ear and asked him flat out if he broke the antique table. To which our dear friend Weasil lied like a rug. Yes, he did. To this day, Daddy has suspicions but no real proof unless he should happen to read this, that he was right in his suspicions. I will backtrack and tell you that Wolfie, Orion, the groom, and his man, were not bothered by Weasil's antics in their computers for a very long time after. But as it is with Weasil, he did figure a way around it. He in turn was patient and waited until he had something on each one of them and like Jumping Jack Flash he was back at it.
So here is the photo of the young "whippersnapper" dancing on the late antique table that his father highly prized.
Gabe
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