Rural Ramblings 20 - May 2009: Granny, goats and gaelic

15 May 2009

By Patrick Vickery

We are being woken early in the morning by a crow hammering on the kitchen window. This has happened before, of course, and I recall writing in the newspaper at the time that this was just the sort of anti-social behavior that encourages running around the garden in the dawning morning in garden boots and boxer shorts flourishing a ‘newly bought, still in it's box, ready to install the following morning fluorescent light tube' shouting ‘oy, oy, oy' at the rising sun.

I have matured since then, of course, the fluorescent light tube is now safely installed in the kitchen and it's still a bit too cold for running around the garden in boxer shorts at this time of year, not to mention the start of the midge season. A new approach is required, maybe a CD hanging in front of the kitchen window to distract it, a Phil Cunningham or Anna Massie perhaps? That might do the trick?

Anyway, moving on to other matters, my Granny looks like the back end of a goat (tha coltas ton goibhre air mo ghranaidh) is how I intended to begin this piece. On reflection, however, this is not strictly true: the back-end of the goat reminds me of my Granny (tha ton na goibhre a cur nam chuimhne air mo ghranaidh) would be closer to the mark.

This is what came to mind when we first got a goat. They both had the same sort of walk, you see, when viewed from behind anyway, and although it's not a complimentary thing to be saying about anyone's Granny, Gwyneth, my Welsh Granny, wouldn't have minded in the least. Departed as she is from this world for many years now, I'm sure she'd have a good chuckle if she could read this today for she always did have a keen sense of humour. That's Gwyneth for you, my Welsh granny from Swansea.

Many years ago when she was staying with us a cow walked through the mixed hedging and into our back garden simply because it wanted to. No hedge was going to stop this particular breed of cow. What breed was it? I don't know, but undoubtedly a big breed, I recall, and a stubborn breed at that. 'Back end of the Goat' Granny marched from the house shouting "Shoo, shoo, shoo..." at the top of her voice whilst the clumsy big beastie trampled rose beds, shrub beds and anything else in its path worth dismantling. There was considerable damage. Granny, of course, was undaunted. She pushed at the cow's rear end and continued with her "Shoo, shoo, shooing..." despite the fact that the beastie took not a blind bit of notice. The final outcome to this episode (if I recall correctly) involved a farmer with a stick, Granny enacting a unique tribal war dance of Welsh extraction and a second gap appearing in the hedge as the cow left just as incompetently as it had arrived. Fantastic. What an enduring image to hold onto from years ago - my Granny, the Welsh Warrior!

When writing for the newspaper, of course, it is important to impart a clear message that has relevance for contemporary times, so here's mine:

If your granny reminds you of the back end of a goat - or the back end of a goat reminds you of your granny - then you had better have a very good reason for it, for otherwise you could be in serious trouble!

So there you are.

Finally, I must thank Tomas from Skye for his Gaelic ‘back end of the goat' translations. Others might have quietly ignored such a request, Tomas didn't.

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