ABERDEEN, ABERDEEN, PRETTIEST TOWN THAT I'VE EVER SEEN

..... Well, to be exact that song referred to Abilene and Aberdeen could never be described as pretty but it's good to be here.

Getting here was a bit of a fankle (old Scottish word meaning a difficulty). We set off to the airport in Toronto to discover that our flight had been delayed an hour. On boarding the weather was getting so bad that the wings had iced up and so needed to be de-iced with heat machines. We finally got away two hours late on Friday night. The problem with this is that when we arrived in London the connecting flight to Abilene, I mean Aberdeen had gone so we had to get rebooked. This meant standing in a line that didn't move for 2 hours with about 70 other people who'd missed connections. I don't get upset in these situations as the airline staff can't control the weather but I do get annoyed at inefficiency. Air Canada, like most airlines neglect to keep customers informed. It would be so easy to have an electronic message board giving information and updates but they don't do so. As a result there was a lot of grumbling from those waiting. When we finally got to the counter things happened very quickly. We were provided with tickets for a flight in a couple of hours, access passes to the business class lounge (very good wines and Otard VSOP Cognac)
 and 20 quid's worth of lunch vouchers (which we converted to a stack of muesli bars). We arrived in Aberdeen in the late afternoon about 6 hours later than originally planned.


We arrived on Saturday which as it turned out was the last good day before the UK was ravaged by snow storms, rainstorms, floods and hurricane-like winds which have closed roads, airports, train systems and ferry crossings. Toronto too is experiencing the worst storm for decades with hundreds of thousands of people being without power including the crackhead mayor. We are really happy to be here cocooned in the Old Girl's mothers cosy flat enjoying Christmas cheer.



Aberdeen is populated by people who speak with strange accents. I've found that in a bakery or a coffee bar it's best to be behind someone who is ordering something remotely like what you want and to point to it and say "same again". This is preferable to getting a haggis or black pudding filled doughnut if you go it alone.

Apparently the Aberdonian dialect is made up with Viking speak along with the most unintelligible Scots stuff so that many Scottish people haven't got a clue as to what they are saying. It is known as Doric and here's an example:

Doric GIN I was God, sittin' up there abeen, Weariet nae doot noo a' my darg was deen, Deaved wi' the harps an' hymns oonendin' ringin', Tired o' the flockin' angels hairse wi' singin', To some clood-edge I'd daunder furth an', feth, Look ower an' watch hoo things were gyaun aneth. Syne, gin I saw hoo men I'd made mysel' Had startit in to pooshan, sheet an' fell, To reive an' rape, an' fairly mak' a hell O' my braw birlin' Earth,--a hale week's wark-- I'd cast my coat again, rowe up my sark, An' or they'd time to lench a second ark, Tak' back my word an' sen' anither spate, Droon oot the hale hypothec, dicht the sklate, Own my mistak', an, aince I cleared the brod, Start a'thing ower again, gin I was God.

Translation IF I were God, sitting up there above, Wearied no doubt, now all my work was done, Deafened by the harps and hymns unending ringing, Tired of the flocking angels hoarse with singing, To some cloud edge I'd saunter forth and, faith, Look over and watch how things were going beneath. Then if I saw how men I'd made myself Had started out to poison, shoot and kill [fell], To steal and rape and fairly make a hell Of my fine spinning Earth -- a whole week's work -- I'd drop my coat again, roll up my shirt, And, ere they'd time to launch a second ark, Take back my word and send another flood [spate], Drown out the whole shebang, wipe the slate, Admit my mistake, and once I'd cleared the board, Start everything ["all-thing"] over again, if I were God.