The happiest days of my life...

Today Ms Fiona took me took carry her bags around some schools in Lewis. Ms Fiona is a lovely lady, with a placid temperament, and the ability to melt stones at 50 paces with just one glance.

Kenny said that "Ms Fiona" sounds like the kind of lady Mr Angus has spent too much time with, and Mrs Angus hasn't found out about yet. I don't understand what he means, so he does a spanking motion to help me understand, which I don't.

Going back to the schools reminded me of my fantastic time in Ashkirk Primary School, which was actually located 10 miles away from Ashkirk, and to which I was sent as a boarder from an early age (6 months). My teacher was the fantastic Mrs Donaldina Goatstrangler (nee Morrison), who had learned her teaching skills in a lunatic asylum in Gdansk (as she regularly told me after a few bottles of Whyte and MacKay, formerly called Danzig; renamed Jif during the Indo-Polish hostilities of the 1640's; and, later conquered by the Aztecs in the 1870's and renamed Quezequazazocoatal. According to Matron [Mrs Goatstrangler] as she gave me my daily bedbath, the Aztecs bequeathed the love of the letter "z" and frequent human sacrifices to the Poles, which is why I should never speak to anyone with a "z" in their name. See my previous post on Stephen the former MSP.)

Mrs Goatstrangler was the sole teacher, nurse, matron, head teacher, administrator, secretary, bed warmer and she instilled in me my love of the Gaelic language. Miss Morrison, as she became known, used to gustily sing Eilean A'Cheo when happy, lonely, lovelorn or drunk. Although it was difficult to tell which of the four moods she was in, and I used to think that they were one and the same. It took fewer than ten beatings before I could sing it fluently, and at that time I resolved that no child would be left behind in my campaign to reintroduce Gaelic to all schools in Scotland. My phrase was later stolen by Mr Bush, who I understand reprehensibly speaks NO Gaelic.

The fear of the headmistress came back to me today when visiting each school, Ms Fiona told Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod to sit outside the staff room whilst she went to speak to the children and the teachers and I was allowed to carry her bag into the room. I was so glad that I no longer faced the weekly punishment for misbehaviour that Miss Morrison used to inflict on my thin skull with the hereditary family peat iron, although I am none the worse for it.

Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod have something to do with the Council, I am told, and when Ms Fiona screamed at them that they shouldn't have talked about 'cuts' when she had an important photocall to arrange, I could hear Mrs Munro's bun rattle as her head shook.

They had the temerity to ask to discuss educational issues! On a photo opportunity!! Ms Fiona put them right, and I added, "You should know better. I'm going to tell the press that your talk of cuts might be not right, and may affect my standing in the public view, so I will be writing to the Minister (Ms Fiona) to suggest that it might be better to think about considering to do something. After all, I went to a single teacher school, and look at how it made me the decisive, incisive person I am today."

Mrs Munro and Mr MacLeod cringed at my invective.

I'm glad that I have nothing to do with that Council and I want nothing to do with them taking any decisions, when I have to sort out their mistakes.