From Mrs Marguerite Walsh Atkins

Ladies and Chents,

Wan o� �at chiels ower �ere seyd A most interjuice masel.  Hid seems kinna daft-lek til me, bit �ats fit he seyd, so A most tell ye �at ma name�s Mrs Maggie Fracher, ma age 63, an� me an� ma man hes a croftie at �e back o� Achavanich, half-rods �etween Bullavanich an� Achaginach, an� �ats �at.

Well, hid�s iss wey.  A wiz asked til tell ye fowk aboot ma traivels in London, an� trowth, A wiz not willan, A wiz fair throwther fit wi wan thing an' anither, an' forbye 'at, A wiz kinna nervish thinkan ye�d a� be gran� an stuck-up kin� o� fowks, bit fan A see ye, fine div A ken, A hev little til be feared o�.

Weel, as A seyd, hid�s iss wey.  Ma owldest dochter, Chessie Cheenie, her �at wiz in �e Wuffs of fitever ye ca� hid, she got merried til an English chiel, ca�d Paircy.  Losh, til hearken til him spekkan, ye�d swear he wisna wice, bit he�s a daicent chiel for a� �at, an� daean richt weel in �e engineerium line.  A�ll warrant he hes all his aikles, �at same lad.

Weel, nothing wid do Paircy an� Chessie Cheenie bit for me til go til London for a holiday, an� stop wi� them, me, �at�s niver been farrer sooth than Watten in ma life.  They asked Donal as weel, �at�s ma man, ye ken, bit he seyd �Fat wid A be doin amang a� �at foreigners �at dinna ken porridge fae peasemeil brose, an� niver see otbreid fae wan week�s end til �e ither.  Ye go yersel, Maggie, dawtie.

So A left ma youngest dochter, Maggie Ann, her �at�s goan wi� wan o� yin Acharolles, til look efter �e hens, an� �e soo, an� �e gricie, an� �e stirkie, an� Donal of coorse, an� off A set.  Mind ye, ma owld chiel did me richt weel, an� cam� himsel� til �e station, walkan, an� took all ma loogage on a hurley, forbye.

Weel, �e less seyd aboot �at chourney �e better.  Hid wiz fearful!  Forbye ma Sunday best, A hed a cheinge o� semmit, an� �e lek o� �at, an� A hed a yowng cockie A hed killed �e day �efore, an� twa-three eiggs, an� a pucklie o� salt butter, an� a pun o� croodie.  �E cockie A wiz chist cerryan til hing �im, ye ken, as �at�s �e best way for keepan �e chiblets for �e broth, an� A wid hing �im up in �e coarner o� �e cerriage.  Ye�d not believe �e impidence A put up wi� aboot �at cockie.  Wan gaird thocht he wid get me for certain til pit id in �e van, bit na fears.  A soon sorted him, �e muckle doad, an� ivery time A went oot o� �at cerriage, for fitever cause, A took �e cockie, an� �e eiggs, an� �e butter, an� �e croodie wi� me.  Mind ye, there�s no flechs on Maggie Fracher.  We hedna all yin sodgers billeted on his for nothing, no a dinged thing safe.  A kent fine, so A wid leave nothing on ma seat in �e coarner, barran ma han�bag wi� ma ration books an� �at dirt an� falderals.  Ma bawbees A hed sewn in �atween ma semmit an� ma gansey, ye ken.

Weel, A wid go in �e middle o� �e day an� hev ma denner, in �e back-end restaurant caur or fitever ye ca�d.  A piece for eleven o�clock, A hed wi� me in a paper pockie, an� fin A gaed in an� hinged up �e cockie in �e coarner by �e table, first wan impident gomeril says til me, �Been up for the twelfth, Madam�, A�ll wager A gied him a dinger.  Noor leyt, next comes a wee teetlag sprot o� a chiel wi� a cockid bonnad, wi� a dial �e colour o� sooans, an� says he, �Madam, you cannot have that bird in here.�  �Can A no�, says I, �Fa� div ye think ye are, til spek til me lek �at, ye peedie wee,  girnan, snotteran, critterag, �at wid hev til stan� on tippence til see ower thrippence, an� me, owld enough til be yer grannie, an� A widna hev ye, fit�s more.  Ye fushionless, funceless, feel trosk o� a regimentarian �at ye are.  Wan ither word oot o� yer gob an� A�ll claw yer loog for ye, ye doited gowk�.  Bit, losh, lassie, he wiz off afore A�d feenished, an� �at wiz �e last A saw o� him.

Fitever wey or no, A wiz goan til tell ye aboot ma holiday, an� no till antle on aboot sich eegnorant gapuses, an� so A�ll tell ye �at fan A arrived at Euston, �ere wiz Chessie Cheenie an� Paircy meetan me.  A forgot til tell ye �at she hes til be called Chane noo, �at sounds richt daft-lek til me, for she had twa perfectly good names lek Chessie Ceenie, efter Donal�s mither an� mine.  Bit � yowng anes hes notions lek �at nooadays, as ye�ll lekly ken better than me.

Weel, A could see �at Paircy wiz by-ornar nevervish at handlan �e cockie, an� Chane hed her best costume on, so A wid cerry hid masel.  An� so, lek �at, we wid go on a thing called a Chube � Ochanee, o� all �e inventions o� Saatan,  �at Chube wiz 'e worst.  In we gaed, doon intil 'e booals o' 'e earth, an' wiz packed in lek herrin in a barrel, an� waitan til be dashed til Eternity.  Fan all o� a sudden, A thocht A hed loast ma croodie, an� A wid step ower til call �e Gaird.  Bit chist as A gaed til �e door, hid slammed shut an� catched �e cockie clean in �e wyme, an� �ere he wiz, ma poor cockie, fair pairted in �e middle.  Sich a cafuffle A hev niver heard.  �E Gaird stoppan �e train, an� miscallan me, an� �e place a� smoored in bleed, an� wan drollag shovan in an� shoutan, �Make way there, I�m a doctor, what has happened�, an� niver a wan o� them thinkan o� �e meiss �e poor cockie wiz in, �at A hed been hainan a� iss while for �e Sunday denner.  A� iss time, �ere wiz �e croodie underneath ma oxter, an� A wiz fearful pitten-aboot ower �e croodie.  Ochanee!  Bit haud ye on, �at wizna �e end o�d.  For oot o� e� pot intil �e fryin-pan.  No sooner oot o� �at Chube, an� we hed til go up in a most fearful contraption, lek a movan stairie, called an excavator, A think, an� me still hingan on til �e remains o� �e cockie.  Chessie Cheenie gaed on first, an� �en me, an� �en Paircy.  Weel, none hed �e gumption til tell me �at ye hed til bide in wan place on �is excavator, an� hid wid dirl ye up.  So A wid try til traivel up.  Weel, half-rods up, did no ma petticoat get catched in wan o� �at steps.  Hid wizna ma best black satin ane A wear next ma skirt, nor yet ma blue worsted ane fat A wear next til ma combinations, but a spleet new grey flannel ane.  Losh, lassie, every meenad iss steps wiz movan, an� choogan �at ma coats, an� them hingan doon in loops aboot ma ankles, fan at �e top, did no ma coat stick altegither, an� off A wiz shoved wi� an almightly dunt, an withoot ma petticoat.  Bit, wid A go hom� withoot id?  Na fears!  Losh, ye wid hev laughed.  They hed til stop �e whole concern til manage �at, an� wan chiel chavvan awey at �e excavator, an� anither chiel prysan an� howkan ma petticoat oot.  Richt daicent buddies, none o� �at orra chiels.  Fan A telt them hid wiz new-made fae three yairds o� flannel oot o� Moads, they said that they quite understood an� they wid do their best til help.  In �e end, A gaed them twa-three eiggs, an� a pucklie o� butter.

Weel, all �e things A could tell ye aboot, ye wid not believe.  Chessie Cheenie�s hoose, �at she will call a flat, is all electric, wi a vacuum cleaner 'at fair gluffed me oot o' ma wits fan id started, an� a telephone, an� a electric cooker.  Losh, wance fan Chessie Cheenie wiz oot, wid A no try til mak� masel a bowlie o� tea, an� fit wi� switchan on every dinged knobbagie, an� wastan a whole box o� spounks wi� niver a lowe til show for id, ochanee!  Bit for all �at, id wiz a fine little hoosie.

Bit for �e last nicht, �at beyt all.  A niver hear �e lek o� yon.  Paircy an� Chessie Cheenie wid tak� me til �e theater.  Weel, hid wizna far off, a muckle beeg hall called �e Hippodrome.  Trowth, A saw enough o� hips yinder til lest me a� ma days.  At �e start, A will say, �e concert wizna bad, wi� chooglers an� acrybats, an� a� thing, fan a� o� a sudden, cam� on til �e platform, twa weemen, near needle-naked, an� A�m no tellin ye a word o� a lie, no� a stitch o� cloes on, barran three lace doyleys, no bigger than a dockan, strategically placed.  Weel, they started til kick their heels abeen their heids, an� fling aboot, til A wiz fair scunnered.  Trowth, A wiz waitin for �e polis til come til them.  A chust could not abide yon, so up A got an� roared at them, �Ye brazen limmers, ye indaicent Jezebels, go hom� an� cover yer nakedness�.  Weel, for twa meenads they stopped lek twa stuccas, an� a� �e fowk gloweran at me, til wan chiel in �e back seats got up an� roared, �Quite right, old girl, and a lousy act anyhow�.  Fitever �at might mean.

Fit ever way or no, �at wiz �e sequel an� �e start o�d.  In twa shakes o Hornag�s tail, they a� fell til fechtan an� skirlan an� sic a stramash A niver saw in a� ma born days.

Chessie Ceehnie wiz fair black affronted at me, nothing wid do bit til slip oot �e back door �at very meenad.  Ochanee, she wiz richt angered at me, bit Paircy, he lached lek til kill himsel, an� seyd, ��E owld girl (�at�s me), hed more spirit than any wan o� them.

Weel, hid�s ower time A stopped, so A�ll be off noo, an� if ye come up �e way o� Hakreeg in �e summer, lek anoff A�ll tak� anither stoon, an� tell ye mair aboot London

Mrs Marguerite Walsh Atkins

Janice Paterson (nee McGee) has provided a short glossary to help with some of the terms in Mrs Atkins amusing speech. - This glossary may be extended in time.

Abeen - above
Aikle � molar, back tooth, as in �hevin all yer aikles� meaning you know what you are doing or that you have your wits about you
Brose � a mixture of meal, usually oatmeal, and boiling water
Chiel � a young man
Croodie or Crowdie � a kind of rather crumbly soft cheese
Dirl � to (cause to) tingle, vibrate, ring
Dunt � (to give) a heavy blow (to)
Forbye  - as well, in addition
Fushionless � without energy, strength, ability, spirit or enthusiasm: insipid, dull
Gansey � a jumper  .  In the past the particular stitches and decoration on a fisherman�s
Girn � to moan, complain, grumble
Hurley � a cart made from a wooden box
Oxter -  an armpit
Peedie � small
Puckle � a small particle or amount
Semmit � a vest
Stramash � a disturbance, uproar

Surnames
Fracher � Old Caithness pronunciation of the surname Farquhar
Wheemster � Old Caithness pronunciation of the surname Phimister