Friday, August 17, 2012

Indigent Ladies

I have been on a secret mission and have only just returned to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh from London. The Argyll branch of the Indigent Ladies League put me up to the London Organisers of the Olympic Games as a volunteer and because of my renowned firearms skills and with the support of Sir Jamie MacPherson MSP (Con) I was appointed as a Track and Field "starter" for the second week of this fabulous event; what a triumph for the organisers and GB in general. I was a bit disappointed with the electronic pyrotechnics which I had to use to start races , sounding much like a cat's fart I much prefer good old fashioned live rounds with a decent bang; apparently the discreetly positioned SWAT teams, some armed with surface to air missiles were dead against anything with a decent bang. Indeed I later heard that English Channel coastal traffic of every size was being constantly harassed by no less than 3 large naval vessels and their helicopters if they strayed within 50 miles of Weymouth when the sailing was in full swing.
Lowly "starters" did not rate a seat at the "opening" which was fine as I got a better view on the old telly in the Wapping penthouse and of course a small gizmo in Otto and a discreet standard and staff attached to the front bumper (motto: Late But In Earnest) gave me free use of the official traffic lanes and handy exec parking at the Olympic Park. Although I had to watch my Ps&Qs there was a fair amount of fraternisation with the athletes particularly those who had completed their events and were in a distinctly party mood.
Was I the only one to find the Opening Ceremony a little bizarre? The harping of the media at the start of the games about minor operational matters and the unseemly baying for GB medals was completely undeserved and I hope the tabloids learn their lesson, although I doubt it.
Back in Glen Trollaigh and with feet firmly planted, dearest Dottie and I are entertaining our 2year old grandson, yes I know he is a bit of a late arrival, but what fun and we have been up to all sorts of mischief not allowed on the strict typed, laminated guidelines and timetable issued with the child. Communication is mainly via farmyard sounds and we were puzzled by one that I was fairly sure was "cocktail" whereas dearest Dottie preferred "cupcake"; after interrogation we are pretty sure the intention was "hen". Hey Ho, life is fun!
Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.