There's a Good Time Coming

There's a good time coming, boys,
   A good time coming:
There's a good time coming, boys,
   Wait a little longer.

We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
   Of the good time coming.

Cannon-balls may aid the truth,
   But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battle by its aid:
   Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
   A good time coming:
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And right, not might, shall be the lord,
   In the good time coming.

Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,
   And be acknowledged stronger.
The proper impulse has been given:
   Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
   A good time coming:
Hateful rivalries of creed
Shall not make their martyrs bleed
   In the good time coming.

Religion shall be shorn of pride,
   And flourish all the stronger;
And Charity shall trim her lamp:
   Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,
   A good time coming:

War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity
   In the good time coming.

Nations shall not quarrel then
   To prove which is the stronger,
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake:
   Wait a little longer.

Charles Mackay

Jungle Work

Lear jet S.W.A.T. team
On a midnight run
With the M16 And the Ingram gun
We parachute in We parachute out
"Death from above"
We're screaming now
Where the pay is good
And the risk is high
It's understood
We'll do or die
Sten gun in hand
Where the gun is law
From Ovamboland To Nicaragua

Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work

Three young men In a Russian truck
With a little M10 Sent 'em running to the huts
A few young men
The few who dare
To battle in hell
Le Mercenaire!

Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work
Strength and muscle and jungle work

Warren Zevon

Les Animeaux - Part IV

Chapter Four

   

Where is Amnesty International - When You Need Them?

   
The next day Craig and Zita went to a shopping centre for some final present investigations. They had been in the place for about half an hour and were passing a small book store when they both heard a small cry of anguish and turned in the direction of the sound. There, to their horror was an Animeaux, hung by one arm over a pile of tatty Christmas wrapping. It was hard to see amongst the unfeeling shoppers but it looked like an alligator to Craig. It had a “Reduced 50%! - Today Only!!” sign nailed to it.

“Jeeesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph! What a disgusting thing to do. Torture a poor Animeaux, in public and at Christmas time.” cried Zita, “And to belittle it by attaching a “Reduced This Day Only” sign is inexcusable. Do we have any small arms in the Nova or should we return home for some concussion grenades and the Sten?” she asked Craig with some glee - “Now where is Amnesty International when you need them, off at some rock concert I bet.”

“No, we don’t have anything with us” Craig said with some surprise, “And it would take too much time to go home, from the looks of it I don’t think that it will last that long; it’s pretty far gone, look at its eyes. Quick ransom it before a monstrous tragedy occurs.”

Zita rushed into the store and holding a credit card to the jugular of the first dissipated sales clerk she came across, she had the alligator taken down. The cruel wire and sign were promptly removed and the monetary transaction conducted before anyone really knew what was happening.

Outside Craig pulled the plastic bag up over the Animeaux’s head to hide it and they sauntered over to a small café were they ordered café au lait and croissants. Craig peeled the bag down and started to rub the wounded arm while the alligator was still in a swoon. He then held a fresh croissant under its nose to revive it. Slowly it started to thrash its tail and to roll its eyes, he gave it some coffee, “I wish Callum was here to give us some advice” he said, “I am not very up on my Animeaux first aid.”

The alligator gave a small start, “You recognize me?” He said with some unease.

“Why yes. We have several of your kind living with us as sort of house guests. A pair of Royal Rhinosasaurises, a rather pugnacious Lion and bevy of TeddyBears and Pigs.”

At this the alligator passed out again and they decided to get him home for Callum’s attentions and advice.

When they arrived, Callum was delighted - “A patient, and in serious condition it appears from the rather greenish pallor of his hide....”

Before Zita could say anything he said, “I know, I know he is an alligator and is supposed to be green - this is a example of some doctor’s humour used to lighten the serious atmosphere that surround most incipient tragedies.”

No one could ever accuse Callum of not thoroughly reading his text books you see. Haemish said,

“That’s all well and good but your books aside Callum, can you save him?”

“Well his stuffing seems to be intact, and he is at room temperature. The arm is going to have a mark where some of his plush has been was worn away, but otherwise he seems alright. His recovery from this all too typical trauma is now really up to him.”

Callum was becoming quite proficient at being a doctor it seemed.

When the alligator awoke he was firmly established in the book case, sitting comfortably on the shelf where Beauregard, BT-McG. Haemish and Callum lived. His arm was in a sling, his jacket was freshly washed and pressed. Zita had even given him a thorough vacuuming and a special application of Scotch Guard.

When he looked down all the TeddyBears, and most of the Queen’s Own Pigs were on the bed below watching the replays of Victory at Sea. They found it very exciting, even if they already knew who won. The Dragons made a point of always coming up for the battle of Midway. They loved the flying scenes.

They had all the pillows arranged in a big half circle, with a plate of shortbread and a tub of caramel dip in the centre. The TeddyBear with the Red Toque noticed the alligator stirring and walked over to edge and climbed on to the white cabinet and scaled the various partitions until he was level with the second shelf, holding on to the upright he swung over to the shelf.

“Are you doing fine now? Glad to see you awake.” He bent down and called out “Hey down there, use the headphones please.” He turned back to the alligator.

“We are very grateful to you for being Callum’s first patient, if you hadn’t ‘av made it, would have set his confidence back a great deal, I think, and ours too I guess. Can I get you anything, at all? -- How about a goose berry ice-cream and peanut butter on rye bread.”

“Ah well a small glass of soup and a straw would be appreciated.”

The TeddyBear picked up the phone and called down to the experimental all digital phone that sometimes worked in the dining room. The Colonel answered, “Colonel - it’s me up here, do you think we could get some soup in a glass sent up for, for.... I don’t know his name, the wounded alligator.”

“Right-Oh. I’ll order some sent up from the commissary right away and General Clay will bring it up in a few moments. He wants to say hello anyway”

The TeddyBear returned to the shelf, “Sorry to bother you but Callum said if you woke I was to take your temperature and write it down in his note book.”

“I quite understand that,” said the newcomer “But there are some things I don’t understand. Where am I? Who is the Colonel? Who is Callum? Who are you? And who were the two Peoples who rescued me?”

“Well I am - me I suppose. All the others call me the TeddyBear with the Red Toque, I haven’t told anyone my naming name, it’s far too secret. The Colonel is my good friend; he understands all about the Magic of Names; he has several himself. You know he is the Colonel commanding the entire Fourth Animeaux Brigade that all live here. Callum is of course Callum McCallum, one of the Rhinosasaurises. He has started up medical school, and is the very one who fixed up your arm. He lives up here with his quite famous brother Haemish-Mór. Haemish-Mór and the Colonel are great friends and often stay up all night reminiscing about lots of things, especially about Lufthansa rescue missions and night maneuver with the SAS. Now the two Peoples who rescued you are Craig and Zita. They are out doing more shopping. They live here too.”

“Where is here?” said the alligator, trying to peer out the front bedroom window. The TeddyBear replied “Well to be sure I really don’t know. I have never asked, don’t much care actually, it is where it is and I am here.”

At this time the Dragon appeared with a tall glass of tomato soup and a glass straw. He landed on top of the shelves and handed the soup, wrapped in a blue napkin, to the TeddyBear.

“A good and pleasant day to you sir” he said bowing from the waist, “May I present myself - Private Smith at your service, though you can call me Rhome Clay if you wish. It seems as if Callum’s handiwork has put you well on the road to recovery -  that pleases me muchley. I am sure you will be glad to know that The Colonel has gone straight to DefCon Four and we are in the midst of planning a surgical strike against that charnel house that so mistreated you. Sometime around three of this AM. we shall slip into that store and remove their entire stock of Sports Illustrated Calendars, and then we are to liberally place copies of the “Mayor of Casterbridge” in covers of Jackie Collins’s books. This should not only irredeemably damage them financially, but will also serve to drive them insane trying to vainly explain to customers why that old Furmity Woman doesn’t do cocaine and methyl-hydrate. Must be off now, see you anon.”

The alligator looked a little startled, “I have never before met a Dragon with names like Smith or even Rhome Clay. Usually they have rather un-pronounceable words or exotic colours for names.”

The TeddyBear said “Well that’s true for sure. He won’t tell you what his real naming name is either. A tradition with Dragons I hear. Do you have a name? Or is it a secret too? “

“At that store they called me - That Stuffed Crocodile. I don’t remember them giving me any other name. Now I have nothing against crocodiles mind you, but I have always thought if they had only known that I really was an Alligator I would have been placed with a nice household soon after my arrival and they would not have abused me so, and then I would not have suffered the shame at being REDUCED 50%.”

A small flood of tears swept down his face and he leaned back into the shadows so that no one else would notice.

The TeddyBear put his small paw on the alligator’s leg and said softly, “Not to worry. Craig helped Callum get his new name and I am sure that he would graciously extend that same assistance to you also. If you want it that is. He is very kind to all the Animeaux, even when BT-McG has to stay up late to watch the old movies on pay television, and falls to sleep even before they start. Or when the Rhinosasaurises need help early on a Saturday morning, finding all their ski equipment before Haemish-Mór’s girlfriend picks them up.

Zita even has made us new spiffy clothes when we bought the Italian edition of Vogue magazine to her, circled with our favourite choices. She always says that she is even nicer to us then Craig, but we have noticed that she doesn’t share the cookies as much, and she really doesn’t like us to make peanut brittle and chocolate sauce parfaits, especially after midnight; Craig says its OK by him. Before Zita came they always used to have used pizza with red chutney and maple syrup for breakfast, but regretfully that has all stopped now.”

The thought of such culinary delights improved the mood of the alligator exceedingly, and he took a sip of soup.

The TeddyBear looked out the window and said, “Here comes Haemish, Callum, Beauregard and BT-McG back from their shopping - in a taxi!”

This caused some amount of discussion down bellow, muttering about the fat of the land and whose money is it, could be heard.

A few moments later when the four of them strolled into the room the TeddyBear with GreenFeet said, “’Tis sure a nice t’ing to be carried around in taxis on cold winter days, would you be explaining it to the likes of us who are used to walking from here to there.... and back.”

Beauregard was hanging up his hat when he turned and said “Not to fret your poor selves. Our taxi ride was subsidized by Miss. Tanya. We met her downtown at the Holt Renfrew store and she was ever so concerned that poor Haemish was going to catch a cold, ‘cause he had forgotten his scarf and had left his boots at home that she gave BT-McG enough money for us to take a taxi home.”

Callum snickered. Haemish tripped him and then he pushed Beauregard face down onto the bed when he started to laugh, “She is concerned about my health you know. I am not as young as the rest of you, and I am used to far warmer climates. The truth is - all of you are green-jealous, and it is of no interest to me at all!” he said stomping out of the room and entering the den, closing the door with a flourish.

“Speaking of green, how’s my patient doing?” asked Callum changing the topic for his brother’s sake. He hopped up on the bed and over to the shelves, “You seem to be doing pretty well. How’s the arm?”

The alligator replied that it was not as sore as it once was and that he grateful for all the assistance and consideration that Callum had shown him.

“Oh it was nothing and I needed the practice - especially since all the rest of them are too frightened to allow me to help when they have fallen ill.” He said pointedly.

The TeddyBear with the Red Toque, diplomatically changing the subject again, said that the alligator didn’t have a name and since Callum had the same problem perhaps between them they could discover a name before Christmas. Having a good name for Christmas was very important for all the Animeaux. They worked on the conviction - no name, no presents.

“I think we should call on Beauregard, as he is most certainly worldly wise and may well be able to help.” Callum looked down to where Beauregard was just now untangling himself from the covers “If you can spare a minute from vanquishing the bed linen we could use yourself up here.”

A moment or so later Beauregard appeared and introduced himself. Callum explained the problem, and the four of them sat down to muddle the problem through.

“Alligator, alligator, hmmm - have you ever seen the drawings of Animeaux by that Albert Durer, he did some very nice pictures of us many years ago. I think there is one of an alligator, if it is the one I remember it is really quite nice, though much rougher looking than yourself as I recall. A quite spectacular Rhinosasauris also.”

“Now what about Albert as a name; Albert Alligator?”

The Alligator said “Well I rather like the Albert part but Albert Alligator, well it’s a bit Hollywood and the initials aren’t too propitious.”

“I agree” said Callum “Far too much alliteration, but the concept is sound. Let’s see; you are much too sociable to be an Albert Dour, how about Albert Garter?”

“Too cute” said the TeddyBear “Grator - perhaps Albert Grator - that makes a pretty sound name, or is it a sound that makes a pretty name?” He pondered this for a while.

“Albert Grator, actually that rather suits me said the erstwhile alligator, Mister Al Grator, Sir Alphonse Albert Grator, it sounds pretty fine to me. What do we do to make it official?”

“Don’t really know, not much I suspect, I can make a big notice with the computer downstairs and we can put it on the refrigerator door where all will see it, if you wish.”

“That’s very kind of you. It was very kind of all of you, I don’t know how to thank you. I have no resources and I know that Christmas is right around the corner and I have nothing to repay all of your kindness especially for my new name.”

The Big White TeddyBears rumbled, “It’s not much of a problem, we have enough presents for everyone to give something to everyone else several times over, as far as I can tell. We have certainly spent enough time on it for you to share in our bounty - Craig and Zita won’t mind.

By the way are you fellows going to invite Mister Grator to go to the festivities in Toronto with you?”

“Dear Heavens I forgot all about it.... I am sure there is enough room. Haemish! Haemish! Come here please!”

At once Haemish came thumping into the room, “You called?”

“Haemish, I forgot we are going to Toronto tomorrow, and I never asked about inviting Mr. Albert Grator along. Do we have the room? Will the Nova take the extra passenger? Will there be any room in Toronto, what about in Ste. Catherine’s? Will they all think us impolite and ogreish-ly pushy?”

By this time Albert was getting very concerned by the situation. Like all the Animeaux he had a horror of imposing himself and he was about to suggest that he would go to “Y” or the Salvation Army, when Zita came into the room.

“Callum what’s all the excitement?”

“Oh Miss Zita. I am afraid that I have been very remiss. I got so caught up in my first patient that I forgot to suggest that our new companion accompany us to Toronto for the Christmas, I fear that I might be the cause of a grave social faux pas.”

“Well I wouldn’t worry about it a smidgen, we already assumed that the alligator would come with us. After all he has been through it’s the least we could do.... Now I have some presents here that have to be signed, where have you put all the pens?”

She got out the long box with the Chocolate train in it and BT-McG wrote.

”Dear Craig,
We TRIED - TRIED - TRIED FOR A PARTICULAR Present for you but the Lady in the Store said no matter what way we counted the money we still Didn’t have enough... SO.... we decided (WELL Zita - Callum did) THAT MAYBE we could get you a reminder of what we actually wanted to get you.... If you know what we mean. (Zita said you would but Dugal wasn’t quite sure)

Anyway, HOPE you like it & if you can’t manage, we are all very good scouts - will help.

Lots of Love and Kisses for Christmas
HAEMISH, CALLUM, BT-McG, Bo-Regards, Colonel D, the
Dragoons, PIGS and TEDDIES.” (sic)


Zita looked at BT-McG’s writing and syntax thinking “It’s the spirit that counts” and thanked them all. She was about to ask if the alligator would like to sign - but she stopped her self afraid to embarrass him since he was without a name.

Seeing her confusion the Alligator said “It’s all right Miss Zita I have received a proper name today. From now on I am Albert Grator Esq.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, and fortunately in time for Christmas, won’t you come down and sign the present too?”

“If you don’t mind I would not like to sign my name for the very first time taking credit for something I really did not do. But I am so pleased that you asked. Next year for sure.”

“Holy St. Joseph. They could drive me to distraction with their sense of honour. They might as well all be from County Mayo, if you ask me.” she said, slightly to herself, as she went downstairs.

A couple of minutes later Craig came into the room, with his assorted boxes, “Got your little fingers all ready for some exercise; as I need some signatures on these presents before we pack them away for the trip?”

This galvanized the five Animeaux, who spent the rest of the day packing. They made Beauregard leave his tope brocade tuxedo at home, figuring their morning suits would be more then sufficient for any unexpected eventualities. Packing the top hats took more time then expected, and the TeddyBears helped polish the silver handles of the Malacca canes. No one wanted them to let the side down with any sort of outré appearance you see.

By eleven of the night of the night before Christmas most every thing was done. The presents wrapped and signed, the cameras chosen, the tapes for the journey selected, and the traveling ensembles picked out. To everyone’s dismay Craig decided to wear his jeans and one of his numerous black T-shirts with the aeroplanes on the front and back. Beauregard insisted on wearing his “Saints” cap, but it was Christmas and what could be done.

Chapter Five

The Christmas Trip and Home Again.

   
The next morning, after a quick spot of croissants and jam, they all assembled at the back door and wished each other a very merry Christmas. The stockings had been filled with presents for all those who were staying home, with Colonel Dugal in charge of a fair and equitable distribution. They sang a few verses of “Once in Royal David’s City” “The Holly and The Ivy” and “Il est Né Le Devin Enfant” just to get everyone into the spirit of things and then they commenced to load the Nova.

When they were finished, the back seat was filled to the top of the front seats with presents. It was disgusting and all were as pleased as punch. A heavy blanket was spread on top of all the extravagances and the Animeaux sat on it, arranging themselves so that everyone had a window seat and could stretch their legs out.

Then they were off - to the bagel store on Richmond Road. The Animeaux thought being snowbound was a distinct possibility and wanted some emergency rations - just in case. Naturally they were all gone before they had reached Collins Bay and the blanket was covered in sesame seeds, causing no end of grumbling when they all tried to curl up for a quick nap.

They arrived in Toronto four and a half hours later and trooped en mass into the house in the Park. Merry Christmases and big hugs were exchanged all round. The Christmas tree was barricaded with even more presents, until it disappeared from view. Craig and Haemish passed on the Colonel’s seasonal greetings and fraternal best wishes to the Commodores Festis and Wallace; Dugal’s two cousins who had retired from the Royal Navy’s Special Boat Squadron, and lived with the Toronto side of Craig’s family.

Several hours of laughter later everyone sat down for a far too large Christmas Eve dinner, to give them all the energy to attend the Christmas services and compulsory caroling. All that is -with the exception of Craig, Callum, Haemish-Mór, BT-McG and the two Badgers. The recalcitrant few sat around the fireplace, told stories of lost treasures and lost loves, of the Archfiend Argyle, the despicable Campbell hosts, of the Great Fingal of the night mists. They put sprigs of the Holly in their drinks before making their toasts, and then they gave their very best wishes to all those who had come before and were no more.

By eleven they were all quite content, if a little sad remembering bygone days and departed friends and family. But it was very Celtic, and naturally they were all very pleased with themselves. Near to twelve everyone else returned home and they sat around the fire listening to Christmas music and eating fattening things, covered in chocolate.

By two in the morning they were all asleep. A scant four and a half hours later they were awakened by Craig’s niece, Miss Julia, who insisted that they all get up and dressed so that the presents could be disgorged from their wrapping. They spent the next several hours unwrapping stuff, stuff here and there, and more stuff and then even more stuff.

At one point they lost Beauregard in a pile of Holt’s boxes and Albert and Callum had to call for an emergency halt, until Monsieur Lyon was retrieved, startled but none the worse for wear. Mere minutes later BT-McG got a slight singe when he stamped out a small ember from the fireplace that threatened to ignite the 20 cubic metres of paper and wrapping that littered the room. Fortunately George had some exceptional brandy at hand, which, as BT-McG explained readily, abated the pain, if the outside of bottle was held against the outside of the burn, while the insides of the self same bottle was placed against the insides of the burn. He and George then went looking for more embers to stomp on.

Since they had received more presents then even Callum could imagine, and it took many hours of planning to arrange it so that there was room for Craig’s mom in the car for the drive to Ste. Catherine’s. It was generally conceded that Christmas was, as usual a great success. And as usual decided that it should be toned down next year. They all had their pictures taken for the relatives all over the world and said their good-byes. Then they piled into the Nova and drove to Craig’s mom’s house where they spent a few days recovering from the surpluses of everything and installing all the stereo equipment in the family room and sorting out family belongings left over from her move. They all staggered out of the house loaded down with even more loot and repacked the Nova on the second day past Christmas and drove back to Ottawa. By the time they reached Kingston they were in a snowstorm and certain regrets were expressed about Christmas being over, and that all the bagels had been eaten on the way down, but they got home with out further incident, aside from a slipping fan belt, which was no ones fault.

When they entered their home, all the lights on the Christmas tree were on and the entire population of Animeaux was waiting for the travelers in the living room, with Dugal’s special Christmas eggnog and slices chocolate cake a la mode. They sang more Christmas carols, “Ooh-ed and Ahhh-ed” at each others presents, said their respective thanks for the bounty and agreed that they had, all in their own ways, a wonderful time, each and everyone of them.

(While they were away a package had arrived marked special delivery. It contained new Rossignol skis and LOOK bindings for all the Animeaux. Craig was disgusted. Personally he saw Miss Tanya at the bottom of this anonymous gift.)

But after all it was Christmas and what could be done?

Publish Post

Culloden Moor
(Seen in Autumn Rain)

Full of grief, the low winds sweep
O'er the sorrow-haunted ground;
Dark the woods where night rains weep,
Dark the hills that watch around.
Tell me, can the joys of spring
Ever make this sadness flee,
Make the woods with music ring,
And the streamlet laugh for glee?

When the summer moor is lit
With the pale fire of the broom,
And through green the shadows flit,
Still shall mirth give place to gloom?

Sad shall it be, though sun be shed
Golden bright on field and flood;
E'en the heather's crimson red
Holds the memory of blood.

Here that broken, weary band
Met the ruthless foe's array,
Where those moss-grown boulders stand,
On that dark and fatal day.

Like a phantom hope had fled,
Love to death was all in vain,
Vain, though heroes' blood was shed,
And though hearts were broke in twain.

Many a voice has cursed the name
Time has into darkness thrust,
Cruelty his only fame
In forgetfulness and dust.
Noble dead that sleep below,
We your valour ne'er forget;
Soft the heroes' rest who know
Hearts like theirs are beating yet.

Alice Macdonell

Culloden 

There is no true dawn this day; 
the clouds that rain sleet hide the sun. 
A muddy marshland waits
to cushion the falls of all the soldiers
and cradle the men who will lay dying. 

Among a pool of blue tartans 
one boy, clothed in ragged plaid,
stands with arms crossed atop his claymore 
and waits for the battle to begin. 

Peat colored eyes search through 
the fractured rainbow of clan colors 
to find the white horse and its ‘Bonnie’ rider. 

He believes in his prince, 
this white knight of chivalry, 
who will cower before the red dragon of Britain, 
desert the dying clansmen,  and swim for safer shores. 

This massacre will be the last on British soil. 
But the boy doesn’t know that; 
all he sees is the enemy in red, 
all he hears is the call to charge, 
and all he knows is that this is his fight.

Lay of the Last Minstrel (Extract)


Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.

O Caledonia! stern and, wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Still, as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still
Even in extremity of ill.
By Yarrow's streams still let me stray,
Though none should guide my feeble way.,
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my wither'd cheek;
Still lay my head by Teviot Stone,
Though there, forgotten and alone,
The Bard may draw his parting groan.

Sir Walter Scott

Canadian Boat Song


Listen to me, as when ye heard our father
Sing long ago the song of other shores -
Listen to me, and then in chorus gather
All your deep voices as ye pull the oars;

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas -
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley,
Where 'tween the dark hills creeps the small clear stream,
In arms around the patriarch banner rally,
Nor see the moon on royal tombstone gleam.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

When the bold kindred, in the time long-vanished,
Conquered the soil and fortified the keep,
No seer foretold the children would be banished,
That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

Come foreigner rage - let Discord burst in slaughter!
O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore -
-The hearts that would have given their blood like water
Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar.

Fair these broad meads - these hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our fathers' land.

Anonymous

The Highland Crofter

Frae Kenmore tae Ben More
The land is a' the Marquis's;
The mossy howes, the heathery knowes
An' ilka bonnie park is his;
The bearded goats, the towsie stots,
An' a' the braxie carcases;
Ilk crofter's rent, ilk tinkler's tent,
An ilka collie's bark is his;
The muir-cock's craw, the piper's blaw,
The ghillie's hard day's wark is his;
Frae Kenmore tae Ben More
The warld is a' the Marquis's.

The fish that swim, the birds that skim,
The fir, the ash, the birk is his;
The Castle ha' sae big and braw,
Yon diamond-crusted dirk is his;
The roofless hame, a burning shame,
The factor's dirty wark is his;
The poor folk vexed, the lawyer's text,
Yon smirking legal shark is his;
Frae Kenmore tae Ben More
The warld is a' the Marquis's.

But near, mair near, God's voice we hear -
The dawn as weel's the dark is His;
The poet's dream, the patriot's theme,
The fire that lights the mirk is His.
They clearly show God's mills are slow
But sure the handiwork is His;
And in His grace our hope we place;
Fair Freedom's sheltering ark is His.
The men that toil should own the soil -
A note as clear's the lark is this -
Breadalbane's land - the fair, the grand -
Will no' be aye the Marquis's.

Annon.

McLean's Welcome

We’ll bring down the track deer, we’ll bring down the black steer.
The lamb from the bracken, and doe from the glen.
The salt sea we’ll harry, and bring to our Charlie.
The cream from the bothy, and curd from the pen.   
  
Chorus:
Come ‘er the stream,Charlie, dear Charlie,brave Charlie.
Come ‘er the stream,Charlie, and dine with McLean.
And though you be weary, we’ll make your heart cheery,
And welcome our Charlie, and his loyal train.

And you shall drink freely, the dews of Glensheerly.
That stream in the starlight when kings do not ken.
And deep be your mead, of wine that is red,
To drink to your sire, and his friend McLean.

Chorus:

If ought will invite you, or more will delight you,
‘Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highland men.
All ranged on the heather with bonnet and feather,
Strong arms and broad claymores, three hundred and ten!   


James Hogg

Les Amineaux - Part 111

Story — Two

Chapter One

The Great Electoral Campaign – Callum Runs for Office

It was only just becoming morning. Both Craig and Zita had been fast asleep when the speakers on the bedroom’s bookshelf announced that the Prime Minister had finally called an election.

It was only a few minutes later that the sound of muffled voices and not so subtle pounding proved to Craig that sleep was out of the question, so with understandable reluctance he tried to awake.

He found the bookshelf atumble with activity. Two of the Queen’s Own Pigs were tacking up large posters of Rhinosasaurises. In his rather fuzzy early morning mind they looked suspiciously like the advertisements for Armstrong Tires.

He raised his head. The Rhinosasaurises were over in the far corner of the room with Beauregard Clayton-Lyon and Big TeddyBear McGruph. BT-McG had acquired a large, red white and blue, hand-painted bow tie. To his right, stood Beauregard, a large chocolate éclair stuck in the side of his mouth. He was waving his arms about in an alarming fashion. Craig rubbed his eyes and decided that it would be far wiser to go to sleep again.

Just then one of the Pigs leaned out from the book shelf and asked, “Now how do you spell — Integrity.” Since spelling had never being one of his strong points he pretended not to hear. The question was repeated - louder.

Zita said “I-N-T-E-G-R-I-T-Y.” The dapper LB Pig doffed his hat and grinned. He scampered back up the shelf to where the rest of the Queen’s Own were gathered. Small pieces of paper seemed to be seeping rapidly from their midst. Grasping the inevitable Craig said, “All right, what’s going on here?” He was ignored.

Beauregard marched over, climbed onto the bed, sat on one of the night’s discarded pillows and said, “We are having a nominating convention to see who is going to be elected to your Parliament for the faithful Rhino Party. Actually it really is between the two Rhinosasaurises as you may well have guessed. Callum wants Haemish to run because of his experience, and ah... Mmm... Well it’s like this; Haemish doesn’t want to run for that exact same reason. He feels that some of his past would not stand up to serious media scrutiny, and he wants to be judged on his opinions and native good nature, not some of his famous past deeds and amazing adventures. He feels that they would overwhelm the public and raise expectations to an unreasonable level. He is of the opinion that Callum would make a far better candidate, after all he is going to medical school and that would look good on posters, “Vote for Callum McCallum - Nearly a Doctor”. But then you see Callum is afraid that if he is elected that being a Member of Parliament will seriously interfere with his studies, what with having to go to court and commissions of inquiry all the time. So they want your opinion.”

“Well I think that Haemish is right, and remember, we are not certain that this terrorist society or whatever, has given up on doing away with him. It would probably be safer if he laid low for a while, and Callum should not think that since that the membership of the present parliament has spent a lot of their time before various judges and special councils that it is normal. Perhaps that next government will be better behaved. All in all I think that Callum would make a fine candidate for the local Rhino Party. By the way, and just out of interest, why does McG. have a bow tie on; and why are you holding the chocolate éclair in your mouth like that?”

Beauregard looked embarrassed and replied, “I am going to be the campaign manager and I want to look the part, but I couldn’t find a real cigar, and anyway they aren’t very good for you, you know. I really want a bowler hat though. Mizz Zita do you think you could make me a bowler hat?”

“What about the Pigs? What are they doing? They and the TBears are no doubt in this ‘event’ I assume.”

“Of course - The Queen’s Own are in charge of the media campaign and the Bears have graciously volunteered to be our campaign workers, going from door to door - to explain about the Socialist Hordes and the mealy-mouthed policies of the other mainline parties - We are ordering some flags to wrap them up in. Pretty organized for only three hours work....”

Sometimes Beauregard’s Louisiana background came through in the most unfortunate fashion Craig had noticed. Just what we need - Huey Long as a role model. He probably wants to turn the whole province into bayou country he said to himself, as he put on his fresh socks.

Craig and Zita left the room, leaving the whole lot of them apparently plotting the overthrow of Democracy-As-We-Know-It.

Downstairs, while they were deciding what to use on the bagels, cream cheese or peanut butter, the Colonel came over to replace a book in the bookshelf.

“What’s good to read Dugal?” Craig asked.

“Well I am still on volume two of ‘Lee’s Lieutenants’ but find it hard slogging.... Think I’d prefer something lighter during the fall; save the heavy stuff for winter y’see. ‘Haps I’ll re-read Blake’s ‘Disraeli’ to put myself in the mood for the forthcoming shenanigans.”

“So you heard about the PM calling an election too; and what are you doing in the Campaign?”

Dugal replied somewhat stuffily, “Don’have any truck with that sort of foolishness myself. Never understood politicians. They never understood me and it was better that way - they wanted to know when, and I wanted to know why. But Haemish now, he knows how it all works. I’member.... One time he bribed us all the long way from Dar-Es-Salaam to Montevideo - just in time to meet an incoming Lufthansa flight! Went through three months back pay that week-end.

Zita coughed on her coffee, she was appalled, “You mean our Haemish?”

“Achhh yes Lassie, Haemish, wonderful keen eye he has.... Nothing like that up in Invergary. That’s where I was born, just to the right of the biggest holly hedge in all of the Strathclyde.”

(It was always difficult to keep up with Dugal’s long conversations, much less keep him on topic.)

“But it was many years ago, far to many for me to remember with any diligence. So is his brother going to represent the Rhino Party for this riding?”

Zita replied “Well they think so. They are all upstairs at the moment looking at the maps and assigning tasks. Beauregard is going to be campaign manager, and BT-McG is going to be in charge of raising money, all The Queen’s Own are writing speeches and The TeddyBears are arranging for a neighbourhood picnic to introduce everyone to Callum, though it is a bit cold for a picnic I think.

Dugal turned around, a canny gleam in his black eyes..., “Achhh, nuu. We’ll serve whus’ky souffle, and some o’McG’s chutney au whus’ky. That will warm them up proper—and win them over. Those who have doubts, we’ll pay them a quarter - ah! - it will be a gran’ time, “

“Thought that you didn’t have anything to do with politics” said Craig, “I don’t” said Dugal “Ooo, but a Scotch tasting picnic—now there’s another thing entirely. I must go up stairs and offer to help. How much money has BT-McG raised, ‘nough for a case, or can we order by the tun? I have a small keg of ‘37 Auchentoshan - it comes from my second cousin Ranald’s own wee still. Far up fair Glen Freuchie. It’s well hidden downstairs ye see?”


Chapter Two

The Police Pay Another Visit

                                                                    

The campaign had progressed most efficiently - until one Saturday afternoon three weeks into the election.

Craig, Callum and a few of the TBears had been out putting up campaign signs around the neighbourhood. It had only taken the Queen’s Own about three days to learn how to use the computer to make the posters and signs, but they were all too shy to go around asking if they could put the results up on people’s front lawns or in their windows. Callum was still nervous about not using his Rhinosasauris name on the nominating forms, and all the TeddyBears were still new to the neighbourhood - so they convinced Craig to help out. (Actually they offered to make him Clark of Her Majesty’s Privy Council, if they won.)

So they all plied into the car and went around the riding. Naturally almost everyone wanted a Rhino poster for the lawn or a window, except for some fractious university professor who asked about Callum’s credentials—which were obvious. Did the professor have a real horn and a snazzy safari jacket? - He then wanted to know about the ‘social grounding’ of their Platform.

Callum told him that it was far too cold to build any platforms on the ground in Canada. The TeddyBear with the GreenFeet was appalled and spoke up “T’is sure back in the County Meath only the very poor builds anyt’ing on the open ground and t’be sure that’s why I left my own dear home and ‘migrated here; to be rich, happy and marry Linda Evangelista.”

He then asked to see the receipt for the professor’s degree. He had the door slammed in his face.

“Quasi-Neo-Trotskyite-Revisionist!” they all shouted, and the Bear with the RedTuque put their secret mark on the middle of his front door - so that no self respecting Bear would ever drop in for tea, or offer to shovel off the steps after a snow storm.

Now quite favourably impressed with themselves they drove home.

When they reached Holmwood, the street was covered by police cars! The Nova immediately shifted into first gear, put on its emergency brake and did a 180 degree turn. It had almost reached third gear before Craig could assure it that all the parking tickets were paid, and that they all had better get home to see what was going on.

They returned just in time to see Beauregard Clayton-Lyon being conducted into the house by two be-coated policemen.

They turned into the back yard where BT-McG was waiting for them. He stood there trembling. He threw his arms about, kicked the remains of their asparagus patch, and flung a rock into the pond, “They t’rew poor Beauregard in the Glass House for putt’ng trut’ serum into one of the ‘ponnent’s mor’nen coffees. Now f’sure, Miss Zita is’n there right now; putt’ng on her best Wes’Country accent - Policemens always trusts Irish accents y’a know, ‘cause of all those Barry O’Sullivan and Paddy O’Brien movies on the Saturday morn’en TV.”

Craig almost fled.

By the time he got parked, and read the riot act to the rest of the assembled Animeaux, the six policemen were all sitting around the dining room table drinking tea and waiting for their scones. Beauregard was sitting by himself in the living room looking very down cast. He was folding his hat into artistic shapes.

The Inspector was apologizing for all the fuss when Craig entered, “I know that your Monsieur Beauregard did this all with the best of intentions, but just think of the chaos that would occur if all the professionals running the various political campaigns started to tell the truth.... Now we knew something was amiss when the Other Gentleman confessed that the great confusion in his party was all his fault - and well since finding him accepting blame is unusual and actively searching it out is unique, so we knew that something was well amiss. When we looked at the list of suspects your Monsieur Lyon was the only one who had not been a campaign manager before. To his credit, he confessed right away. If it had not been for your friend Doyle’s intervention we might have had to put him away as a clear and present danger to the state.”

“What has he have to do with all this?” Craig asked with some astonishment.

“Ah well, Pat, the Arch-Bishop and some of us lads get together for lunch and practice our Latin every couple of weeks. Pat was down at the Club when all these untoward events took place. It seems that your Monsieur Lyon has relatives in the Curia, and Pat recognized the name, and the Archdiocese vouched for his behaviour. As you know Pat has a certain sympathy with obfuscation and your friend was doing his best — apparently there was some kind of a vote and nearly half the campaign funds were used to buy yourself and your good wife an anniversary bouquet. Monsieur Lyon seemed to feel that if everyone told the truth it would even things out.”

BT-McG strolled slowly downcast into the dining room and explained, “We didn’ really have ‘nough money t’buy even half hour of the TV. Even though our Queen’s Own have come up with a super show. They discovered lots of mainly true facts and ‘normously big figures on how Callum could buy huge model Helicopters for $8.00 each retail - So wit’ only $80,000,000 we could buy one for nearly whole country, saving kabillions of dollars.

He’ll take som’o’ d’extra money and rents the French Foreign Legions to guard whales from those pesky Japanese and Norwegian folks. Rest he’ll invest in show’n the House of Commons to all the ex-Commies in Eastern Europe. The figures say that d’def’cit would dissolve on reruns alone. Sadly we had only $73.00, - $54.00 if I forget Christmas present cash, and that wer’nt enough to get us on the TV - even in Newfoundland’. We then voted and ‘cided to buy Zita loads of pretty flowers for the anniversary, since we knows Craig would forget. So then we had only $41.79 and I ‘pose it was this unusual poverty that drove poor Beauregard to crime - un-used as he is to a lack of the ‘ready’.”

Beauregard swung himself over the brown sofa, and sat on the long white bookshelf, between it and the dining room. He didn’t want to get too close to the police. He said that he was very sorry to Callum and BT-McG.

“I was getting quite upset you see — all the other parties would not let us take part in the important debates - and the dumb TV cameras never see Callum and me, because..... well perhaps we ar’nt as tall as some of the other candidates and, and - its not fair. I’ve written the CRTC but they referred me to the CBC and then they sent me to someone else, who redirected me to another department..... and well it is MY job to get us on the television so that we are very well known and can show up the numerous failings of the other parties, and I am not doing a very good job of it and I am so very sorry..... and..... and.....”

Beauregard looked away lest his emotions got the best of him.

All the policemen nodded knowing only too well what it’s like to deal with the media, especially the CBC. The Inspector stood up brushing the crumbs from his lap and said that they must get back to work, but he took out his wallet and put $10 dollars on the table “A campaign donation.” he said. He shook hands with Beauregard and Callum and told them not to be depressed, and that he would personally lose all traces of this “misunderstanding” from the files. All the other policemen put their folding donations into Callum’s helmet as they left and wished them all good luck.

This left them with a total of $77.38 (after they paid Beauregard’s contribution to the Policeman’s National Canasta Soiree Fund). Not enough to match the major parties and barely enough to by a keg of Scotch, even with Dugal’s bulk discount.

So instead of having a picnic, as it was getting quite cold and Zita had not finished all their new winter clothes yet, they got out Dugal’s second best pewter flask, filled it with some of his 33-year-old Auchentoshan, and took it around with them as they went campaigning, as a “convincer”. It was this tactic that led them astray.

An Over Indulgence.... or Two

One night just before the election Craig had gone to Montreal to pick a returning Zita up. Beauregard had accompanied him to the airport. He was in a small panic. He thought the discomfort of a long car ride was well worth the opportunity to deliver his version of why he had tried to get Mademoiselle Marie-Ellen to give him a good-night kiss before any less amusing version reached Zita’s ear.

You see when Zita was off in Ireland, visiting her family; the woman who had tried to teach Craig French, came over for dinner. Naturally she had been presented to Dugal and the Dragons. When she went upstairs to be introduced to all the others, Beauregard looked up from behind his copy of ‘The Picayune Times’ and had asked for a good-night kiss, less he was tempted to mentioned to Mizz Zita that they-all had been entertaining women in her absence.

Poor Marie-Ellen was scandalized. Callum and Haemish had to use their considerable powers of persuasion to prevent her from crying.

Naturally Beauregard was mortified by the outcome, and apologized many times. He said that it was her French accent that reminded him of all the young demoiselles from Ste. Margarine Parish back home. They had always kissed him good-night (and some times good-morning, we have no doubt) and it was the memories that had caused him to lose his composure. That and the stress of being arrested had undermined his natural better instincts.

(With this in mind he thought it best if he met Zita at the airport, and made his explanations before the Q-O Pigs spilled the beans, or mentioned silk teddies and the mirrors.)

It was late and rainy when he and Craig reached the new Montreal airport. They waited for Zita in silence, when she arrived she was desperately tired from the long flight, and the awful coffee. In spite of this she said that she was very glad to see both of them. As they sat in the car, Beauregard told her his sad tale, with a certain amount of elegant embroidery, so she forgave him right away - it was easier she knew - and they both fell asleep as soon as they reached the highway, and didn’t awake until Craig announced that they had once again reached home.

When they entered the house they found it unusually quiet - even the stereo was off, and Dugal was fast asleep, rather oddly curled up under the dinner table. When they got upstairs there was a whole lot of un-suppressed giggling going on.

Across the doorway to the den a banner had been strung, which read, “Welcome Home - what did you bring us? Love from us.”

When they entered the bedroom and turned on the lights there arose the most pitiful moan from both the bookcase and the dresser. BT-McG was propped up, half sitting on the dresser, with his hat covering his face, Callum and Haemish were resting face down - on the stereo receiver, breathing very slowly and very quietly.

The TeddyBear with GreenFeet spoke up, “Now dey’ve been a bit into d’poteen, Y’err honour.

T’be sure it was all fault to Colonel and Mr. Haemish. It was themselves who decided that as its’ only t’ree days to the election, it was the time to get everyones to vote for Mister Callum. They broke out bottles of the Colonel’s Special Stock, them bottles that he keeps hidden under the rug in the back room of the basement.”

Obviously not too well hidden thought Craig.

“And y’see it was himself over there,” pointing at BT-McG “who was sick on the lawn and didn’t go to Mass at all.” The little TBear was quite indignant.

BT-McG said in a very quiet and hoarse voice, “It was the six Black Russians I had at the Doctor’s house that did it, I’m slorry to say.” He then slipped down onto his side and fell asleep.

Callum whispered slowly that they had being going door-to-door all evening explaining how they would run the country; with truth and humour. They had gone to the Bowen’s house last because Callum knew that they had the best chocolate cake in the world always ready, just for guests.

He and the Reverend Dr. Bowen had been arguing about what to do about North Africa and they drank all the Scotch in Dugal’s flask and then Desmond brought out the Jamison’s and they finished that. By the time the Tia Maria was found, Haemish, Dugal and Mrs. Bowen had rearranged the living room into the second battle of the Somme and were discussing the subtle points of General Haig’s failure.

When the fist World War had been re-fought in the living room and Callum had argued Dr. Bowen into insensibility in the den, all the Animeaux, and Desmond had too much to drink, and the Reverend Dr. Bowen had to bid them a fair-thee-well holding on to the front door, and the rest of them had to walk home arm in arm - so that none would fall down. BT-McG was quite ill, and the others were relying on Dugal’s walking stick to get them back.

It seams that the Dragoon Guards heard the noise a block away and went out to guide them. They were all quite embarrassed by their behaviour.

By the time Craig and Zita arrived home they were all feeling quite awful and the Q-O Pigs and the other TBears were not about to give them any sympathy at all and had hidden all the aspirin and the 222’s.

Election Night

The day of the election had turned out to be very busy for Craig; he had to pick up a rather nifty model 1897 Winchester pump and get it registered at the Police station, have a coffee with Bill - who wanted to know how Beauregard was settling in, go to the liquor store for the Colonel and Zita. Then as a favour to Haemish he had picked-up Miss Tanya at her school and delivered her home so she could vote. On the way they had discussed the impact of the free trade negotiations on imported French silk lounging robes, brocaded halter tops and the other complex necessities of a young and fashionable life.

As she got out of the car she asked if Haemish had got his new ski boots yet, as downhill season was not too far away and she wanted Craig to make sure that Haemish wore his new scarf as she was quite concerned that he was not used to the cold weather, having come from the middle east and all.

As he was wondering about all this, especially the ski boots and new scarf the Nova burbled up “I knew it was never too late to have an exciting life - old guns, young blondes and foreign intrigue - it’s a lot better then taking dull trips to the IGA and motoring over to aunt Jessie’s Sunday pot luck lunches - I knew my life would get better - it really doesn’t matter if I am a little old and my paint doesn’t quite match does it? It’s what’s in your heart that counts. I knew it wasn’t too late for me to be a credit to The General. Will our life always be like this?”

“I well, not always this exciting, and don’t pay too much attention to Callum and Haemish’s stories about the terrorists. They are much exaggerated.” He did not want to scare the little Nova into a nervous fit, or a radiator hose collapse.

“Anyway we are much too busy just now for things like that, Zita and you have to take Callum’s supporters to the polls tonight.”

When they got home everyone was in a high state of agitation; Callum was watching “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, since it was about getting Jimmy Stewart elected in spite of scandalous behaviour on the part of his opponents, he thought it was appropriate. It also took his mind off the fact that other parties had decided to take this election so seriously that they had resorted to lying and making rude faces at each other on the Television.

He had privately asserted, “All in all; I would rather be polite than be Prime Minister.”

(That didn’t mean that he had given up - no he just wanted to represent a real protest vote - for those people who thought that leading a country was far too important a job to be taken that seriously. If they achieved only that Callum and all the cronies would consider it a great campaign and declare themselves elected in the hearts of Canadians, where it really counted anyway.)

Zita, Haemish and BT-McG had to leave the house early as they were electoral officials and had to ensure that everything stayed on the up and up. The rest of them had dragged the other two Televisions into the den, then settled down to watch the results. They had placed 16 tubs of Hagan Däs ice cream in the freezer and the Asti Spumante in the refrigerator.

(Asti floats were the favoured and traditional drink for all official Rhinosasauris celebrations you see.)

Craig warned both the TBears and the Queen’s Own that it was probably going to be a long and forlorn night, since he thought it very unlikely that Callum would win. Privately he thought that they had all toiled enormously hard, and he was very proud of them all; especially of Callum who never got discouraged, nor had false hopes.

The TeddyBear with GreenFeet spoke up, breaking his thoughts, “I went to Mass first thing this morning, and prayed and prayed and prayed that we pulverize whoever that bog-hopping, skin-flint hardhearted professor - the one who wanted us to build houses for poor peoples in the dirt - voted for, and then every t’ing will be fine with me. And I lit t’ree candles too. The TeddyBear with the RedTuque helped me find some spare coins for the collection, and then he went over to the government farm - to the old oak grove and prayed for a very out-of-sorts FuryBear to come and pay that rotten man a visit in the very middle of a moon-less night.”

From across room, Colonel Dugal looked up from his book and smiled, “We appreciate all the assistance, moral and otherwise, that you two have sent Callum’s way. I am sure that your brother the Bishop will be pleased to pieces with how well you are fitting in over here.” The two smallish bears beamed.

The three returned about 10 o’clock, and came upstairs to the den, looking quite dispirited. BT-McG and Beauregard went off to the far corner shook hands. Zita went over and the three of them wiped each others’ eyes. Haemish went into the back bedroom with Callum; Dugal wandered in with them, trying to cover his second best flask with his tam. About 10 minutes later the three of them came into the den - where everyone was waiting. Callum walked over and climbed up on the old wooden wheelchair, and thanked everyone for their efforts.

“They have said ‘It is not if you win or lose, its how you play....’ Friends we have had the very best innings I ever saw. I wouldn’t change an iota for all the world. I have just been told that Beauregard and BT-McG. feel that they have somehow let us all down. That just couldn’t be true. They are the truest friends Haemish and I have ever had. We just now phoned home and I have been fortunate enough to have just spoken to the High King of the Rhinosasauri. He has awarded both Monsieur Beauregard Clayton-Lyon; late of the Ville de Nouvelle Orleans, and Master Bruin Theodore McGruph (which was BT-McG’s real name), late of the County of Lanark, with - The Most Royal Order of the Gladdened Heart; For Actions far above the Constraints of Prudence or the Demands of Fear. Now bring on the haggis chutneys and the Asti-Floats!”

With that Dugal and Haemish piped the Haggis in. The Dragoons pushed in the wicker laundry basket full of Hagan Däs ice cream, Asti Spumante - some Coke Classic for Craig - and many double handled crystal mugs from Dugal’s great-grand father’s wedding. Then they all, everyone of them, got onto the sofa, turned off the election and put Candice Bergen and Sean Connery in “The Wind and The Lion” on all three televisions. They made numerous toasts, pulled the red and white diamond quilt over themselves and after a while fell asleep.

A while later Craig heard Callum telling Zita, please not to cry, it was really only a movie.


Chapter Three

                                                                    

The Soothing Balm of Christmas - And Another House Guest.

                                                                    

As the disappointment of the election faded and the campaign posters were taken down the Animeaux looked to the future to rid themselves of the hangover of defeat, and found much to their delight, that Christmas was on its way.

Zita had been shopping for presents for several months, as Craig and the Animeaux were very difficult people, so to speak, to buy presents for. Not only that, she had been huddling over her hot sewing machine for weeks and weeks concocting up presents for the rest of the family down south and making winter jackets for Haemish-Mór, Dugal, Beauregard and some of the more persistent TeddyBears and both Dragons.

Mac had sent the Rhinosasaurises a catalogue for do-it-your-self goose down attire, like the one Zita put together for him the year before.

Now Callum and Haemish wanted one just like that one; except for a different hood and different pockets and a new lining with perhaps, a built-in holster, in a different colour for each of them of course.

Naturally all the Animeaux were soon well into the true spirit of Christmas, and were pouring over catalogues by the hour. Not that they could afford much, the election had sorely drained their meager resources. Also they were; shall we say ‘A wee bit canny with their resources’- it was Dugal’s Highland influence thought Craig. Zita said, “They are as mean with a penny as they are with a pound.”

All this aside, they were not entirely without resources, Beauregard received some money from his relatives in Savannah and Haemish had his Mossad pension. The Colonel had all his funds tied up in Imperial Russian bonds, which he was certain would soon be redeemed.. He had ordered several catalogues on single malt Scotch in anticipation of this.

Aside from these rather tenuous riches, the Animeaux were moderately broke most of the time, which was just as well as they had no real understanding of cash flow or the ridiculous fluctuations of the Royal Rhinosasauris currency - silver champagne corks. If it were not for the income from his AT&T patents, Callum would have had a difficult time even paying the tuition for medical school.

In addition to the general confusion generated by the Christmas convolutions, Zita had damaged her hand and had to have it put in a special splint. Callum had offered to operate, but fortunately he had not got to the surgery part of the Royal Rhinosasauris Medical School’s Doctor by Mail program. Actually he had only just finished the part where you learn to look very knowledgeable while writing out prescriptions. There were always little pieces of practice prescriptions littering the back room where he sat at the desk, in front of the mirror doing his homework.

As you might expect all of them had been very busy well before the advent of Christmas had dawned on everyone. A week or so before, Craig and Zita and lot of their people friends went out to the farm at Dalkeith to chop down their own Christmas trees. They all had a very good time, though one of the young nieces broke through the ice and fell into the small stream that crossed the farm by the Dunvagan side road. She rushed back to the farm house and ran around in some rather unbecoming underwear while trying to find some warm clothing.

Zita had told all the Animeaux about these proceedings while they were decorating the Christmas tree and arranging all their stockings on the mantle piece. This gave BT-McG and Beauregard the excuse to endlessly thumb trough all the Q-O Pigs copies of Vogue and ELLE, doing research to help with the shopping. Zita was vaguely amused until she saw what they had ordered; and the price.

She said that “it” was unlikely to either protect that young lady from icy water or failing that, keep her warm. The three of them naturally disagreed, saying it was silk and everyone knew that silk kept you warm and it was black to retain the heat.

Zita responded “Why yes - and the closest the owner of this, will ever get to icy water will be in a crystal glass, mixed with some expensive scotch.” Beauregard agreed, and Zita realized that somehow she had lost this round to the Animeaux but could not quite see how.

But it was Christmas and what could be done?

Planning The Christmas Expedition

The Nova had been complaining about the stiffness of it’s joints in the morning cold; so as a Christmas treat they pooled their resources and bought it an electric heater for its oil. This seemed to make it feel much better on those frigid days when Craig had to take Haemish, Callum, BT-McG and Miss Tanya skiing.

He had a terrible time - on the way up he had to listen to them talk endlessly about wax and edges, on the way home he had to listen as they described how they did this or that or the other so much better now that they had trendier bindings or shorter skis, or springier poles.

Or better imaginations he thought to himself.

After several weeks of this, Craig made a deal, he would not object if Miss. Tanya used her Volvo wagon to transport them to and from the various ski hills, nor would he ask them to be home at a reasonable hour as long as they were careful and didn’t race the chubby little German cars that seemed to spontaneously generate around ski resorts. Haemish had promised they would be very careful, and this time they seemed to be taking his advice seriously. He noticed that when ever they went out Callum, at least, took his well cared-for 9mm Parabellum with him; just in case.

As it had been decided to spend Christmas at Craig’s sister’s house in Toronto, as this was a five hours drive away he had a long chat with the Nova and they both felt that it was up to the excursion, as long as they took the time to look at the scenery and stop for coffee and doughnuts, so that it could catch its breath.

One night, as they were watching television, BT-McG slid down from the book shelf and sat on the headboard. After a while he said “We’esse been talk’n about somet’ing. All of us. Y’know us over here”, he said swinging his arm in the prevailing direction of the bookcase, “We t’ought it would be great idea t’spend Christmas all with each other.”

“He means they all want to go to Toronto with you for Christmas.”, called out one of the Queen’s Own Pig Irregulars, who quickly retreated to the very back of the shelf.

Haemish-Mór stomped to the edge, leaned over and said  “Well, you know that Callum, Beauregard, BT-McG and I are very fond of each others company, and if we can ever get BT-McG to speak properly, we might even understand most of his conversations. We thought that it would be alright to ask if it would be possible for us to accompany you to Toronto for Christmas?” he leaned lower and whispered, “It will also be Beauregard’s first Christmas away from his family so if we were all off on an adventure it might take his mind off it and he would not feel so abandoned.”

Callum said “We will all be very good and polite and I won’t offer to do open heart surgery on anyone, and we won’t let Beauregard bring his sword, just to be on the safe side.”

Craig was about to say “We’ll think about it” when he saw the looks of Pre-Christmas delight and expectation on all their faces and thought “what the hell”.

“Sure you can all come. What about all the TBears, the Q-O Pigs, Colonel Dugal and the Dragons?”

The Big White TeddyBear who doesn’t talk much said “We all would like to stay here and have the house to ourselves. It’s been a while since we could just lie around without someone wanting to do this or go there or try that or watch this..... We want to laze about for the whole time you are away, that is if you don’t mind.”

“Mind” said Zita, “That’s his favorite thing to do..... and don’t be giving him any ideas or none of us will see Christmas in Toronto.”

The Fuss Over Christmas Shopping

It was not that they had a lot of shopping to do, it was just that all the people they gave gifts to were very particular and the gifts had to be conjured up and searched out, so many expeditions were mounted roaming from one end of the City to the other. Zita usually packed a lunch as Craig tended to meander a bit on these voyages - and she had to beg and say rude things before he would stop at the chip wagons for her.

A week before they were to leave for Toronto they had still not finished the Christmas shopping. The Animeaux had asked both of them to assist in finding a suitable gift for the other. They were very particular, this and their chronic lack of funds made shopping with them difficult.

Beauregard and BT-McG wanted to give Zita some underwear, not as skimpy as the one they ordered for the chilled niece, but flattering all the same. BT-McG had cut numerous pages from the fashion magazines with the styles he approved of, Beauregard did not care so long as it was black and expensive.

Craig had to bring home numerous pairs “on approval”. The two of them were far too shy to accompany him to the lingerie section of Holt Renfrew’s.

All the other Animeaux had pooled their funds and asked Craig to find some nice leather luggage for Zita. This presented a problem; they only had 7 dollars and forty-seven cents in total. But since it was all in small change, and Animeaux are not really very big and the pile of quarters seemed quite substantial to them.

Craig tried to explain that Gucci steamer trunks were very expensive, and well, not really in fashion this decade, what with the invention of the aeroplane and all.

Callum unfortunately had a solution. In his correspondence school curriculum there was a section on accounting and health care, and basing his opinions on this he felt that Craig could write a cheque for the trunk, and if there was not enough money in their account he could add a couple of zeros to the amount. Since a zero was not worth anything this would most adroitly solve the problem.

Craig suddenly understood why the health care costs of the province had got so badly askew, but no amount of explanation seemed to sway them. Finally it was easier to give in and pay the difference himself. So he ordered a large leather haversack from a catalogue. This was a popular choice - after he explained that they could all fit in it and accompany them on picnics.

Zita was suffering the same problem. The Animeaux had all decided that Craig should have an electric train, with mountains, lighted crossings, water tanks and a whole lot of bridges. They had found a 1958 Harrods’s catalogue and discovered the one they wanted, a Lionel steam engine set - in CPR colours - for six pounds even. They changed all their money into pennies, added some sand and had six and a quarter pounds. More then enough they said, including freight charges.

As you can imagine this posed a major diplomatic dilemma for Zita.

She took the TeddyBear with the GreenFeet and his heathen friend, the TeddyBear with the Red Toque out to the antique stores with her. Her friend George, who collected pianos, model trains and foreign cars of questionable reliability, had given her the name of several stores where old Lionel trains could be acquired - for a price.

The two TeddyBears were aghast! Used toy trains costing more than perfectly wonderful, well trained, well dressed and loquacious TeddyBears. What was the world coming to?

The TeddyBear with the GreenFeet wanted to go directly to Mass, he was so upset; he finally settled for a pint of Guinness, and a plate of chips and vinegar, (well, perhaps it was two pints if the truth is very important).

When they got home and broke the news to the rest of them, there was a long silence, broken by the Big White TeddyBear, “Serves us right for letting the subscription to the Financial Times expire I suppose. Well I guess we must get all the magazines out again and find something less dear. Though what that could be I really have no idea.”

They were quite disturbed by this turn of events. They knew that no one in the house expected big or expensive presents, but it was extremely nice to find something that a friend wanted, and be able to surprise them with it. And all the Animeaux loved surprises. Zita said that she would think about this problem and see if there were any nifty things that Craig would like.

Later that night one of the Queens Own Pig Irregulars snuck down stairs and told Zita that the TeddyBears were afraid that their presents were not going to be as nice as the presents that Craig and Zita had got for them; and they were very afraid of being embarrassed.

Both Craig and Zita appreciated that the Animeaux, being just a bit different from them, tended to be very sensitive about doing the RIGHT THING, and not being thought of as too different. With this in mind, Zita sat down at the dining room table with Lance-Bombardier Pig and amidst pots of tea and hot chocolate they went over a series of possibilities that they all could afford and would be appropriate as a gift.

Together they decided to get him a chocolate train set. Both had decided that this was not only more economical, but the very thought of Craig having more stuff to collect appalled Zita. While the very idea that he might set it up in the bedroom, where it would probably run through the Q-O Pig’s Sergeant’s Mess caused certain misgivings on both their parts. They agreed that this, all in all was by far the better choice. It was decided that she and BT-McG would go to his favourite gourmet chocolate emporium on the Seventh Line Perth later that week.

Lance-Bombardier Pig looked up over his cup of hot chocolate and said that this seemed such a good idea, but perhaps, if there was a small problem in the price, that is, if it was very dear, not to tell the TeddyBears and the Q-O Pigs would cash in some of their Paris municipal bonds, to make up the difference. They had had a vote and it was to make up for the unfortunate occurrences when the Bears first moved in.

Zita was quite touched, though she said that she doubted that the difference would be so great as to require such drastic remedies. But she was sure that the TeddyBears would be very honoured that they would offer.

“Oh dear - they mus’ent know that we offered, that would spoil it!”

“Jesus, Mary and Holy St. Joseph, save us from silly pride; you are becoming almost as bad as People.” said Zita, regretting it immediately as she saw the look of horror on L.B. Pig.

“Well to be sure you’re not nearly as bad as people and certainly better then Craig”

He smiled and thanked her for all the help and then slurped down the last of his drink and put several handfuls of the Ritz cheese crackers in his athletic bag - for ‘laters’. The Silver Dragon flew up the stairs to make sure everyone was asleep before LBP snuck back upstairs.

The Dragon had to come back right away as the other Dragon and Dugal were installing spiked feet on the speakers and needed his help. The Dragons tilted the speaker back and Dugal and Craig positioned the feet. Dugal had assured Craig that all the British Hi-fi magazines had proved that this would ‘clean up the bass and improve the imaging to an astonishing degree.’

He agreed he would be astonished all right, but since he was having the old Citation power amplifier rejuvenated with new Dutch wires and German bits and pieces he thought discretion was the better part of valour, especially since Zita was still down stairs and might hear.

When he decided to have the amplifier renewed, he told her that this act was a philosophical stance - and it should please her greatly. The fact that he was prepared to expend energy, time and money to invigorate an old friend should make her feel very secure, as he was obviously not likely to replace her when she started to show signs of wear and tear. He had ducked at this point and they had not mentioned it since.

They had just finished the feet on the second speaker and were tugging on the speaker cable up when Zita came in, “Finished yet Dugal? “

The dragons were still heaving on the cable so she bent down to give them a hand, “I know, I know and I sympathize but what can be done? They are both convinced that it all makes a difference, and as a hobby its marginally cheaper then jade collecting or having sailing boats, and it certainly keeps them from getting into more serious trouble.”

Since the speaker cable was the size of a small hose all three had to give a good tug before it came free.

She looked over to Dugal and Craig, who were waiting for their soldering iron to heat up and said “This is quite silly and I am taking the Dragoons for a walk, or what ever, so we can look in everybody’s windows and see how they have decorated their homes for Christmas.” At this announcement the Dragons went looking for the wing de-icer and their down flight jackets.