"Ah Wee Bet Ah' Trooble" (Scotland)
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| Dunoon pier in Scotland stands unchanged for over a 100 years! |
Scotland was fertile ground for "growing" trouble. “A wee bet of trooble” as Scots would say. I had what we Yanks call a "bumper" crop while I lived there! Yeah, too much trouble!
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| Tom's ship, the Simon Lake |
This was the day we rode the ferry to Gourock from Dunoon. I didn't come home empty handed, either. I got on board with a BAG full of trouble.
It all was my husband Tom’s fault.
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| The beautiful Holy Loch, just off the Firth of Clyde in Scotland. |
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| A view above Dunoon Pier. Photo by Hunters Quay. |
I don’t know what treat I “inhaled.” All I remember from that day is what I came home with. And what I lost!
After lunch, we headed for my favorite Pet Store in Greenock, not far from the Ferry dock. I should have stayed out of that store. It began ALL the trouble.
I should have also bought investment stock in that place. From this bustling, quaint Scottish store, I’d purchased my 2 guinea pigs, tons of equipment, and chow for my many pets. I already had four kittens I was rearing by hand. Add to that a huge useless Alsatian dog (like a German Shepherd) named Brutus. We had about wiped out the store buying stuff to keep that mutt in line.
If there was something Brutus could do to ruin my day, he would. Sometimes it was just snapping at the dust bin men (garbage men.) Other times he would continue gnawing off the siding on our rented house. Or getting in the basement wall tar of the new Gaol (jail) being built next door. (Right….. WE would happen to live right next to the police station. The “Constabulary.” I just couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble with them seeing everything going on.) That’s another blog post… another time.
In a cage in the Pet Shop I saw a wondrous sight: the biggest, fattest, white rabbit. He was looking right into my eyes. (Cha-ching! The money was already out of my wallet for that critter.) He was house-broken. He loved to be IN the house. And he was cheap. The owner knew my penchant for animals. He was always eager to see ME come in the door. (Yeah, he could unload whatever unwanted animal he had.) Sucker….. that would be ME.
With his amiable big Scot grin, he pulled this fat, soft, very calm rabbit out of its cage and handed him to me. It was LOVE at first cuddle! The rabbit lifted its head and nuzzled my neck… I melted. I HAD to have that rabbit! And I did.
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| That rabbit was twice the size of this buggar, and fatter! |
Tom knew better than to balk. Buying me animals was a way of keeping the peace between us. Problem was, how to get MY rabbit home? We’d come on THE FERRY! We lived in Kilmun, clear around the other side of the loch from Dunoon where the ferry docked. Even more of a problem, we came on Tom's Triumph motorcycle. No biggie. My Scot owner/friend said he had an idea. I didn’t need a cage. He had just the thing.
He handed me a bowling ball bag. Mr. Rabbit would fit just fine inside!
So, we bought the dang rabbit and ten pounds of rabbit pellets. They were packaged in tissue-thin paper and barely taped shut at the top. My husband carried this precarious, heavy package, trying not to drop it. I toted Mr. Rabbit in his bowling bag. To the ferry we went.
Heading back to Dunoon… with a rabbit in a bag. Right. I should have known that wasn’t smart.
Heading back to Dunoon… with a rabbit in a bag. Right. I should have known that wasn’t smart.
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| The bag probably looked like this one. |
We were able to board the ferry easily because nobody KNEW I had this rabbit in a bag. Things went pretty well until we got halfway across the Firth of Clyde to Dunoon.
My husband decided he had to have a beer, a stout, (Guinness.) You could buy stuff like that on the ship. So, off to the Tea Room on the ferry we went. Big bag of rabbit pellets and Mr. Rabbit in a bowling bag, and us. I was lucky Mr. Rabbit didn't pee in the bag because it would have run out the seams, onto my lap and made such a stink....
We sat down, ordered a Guinness for him, tea for me. In front of us, on the long cloth-covered tea table were the pastries, laden on high tiered stands. They looked DELICIOUS! They smelled wonderful. This was looking like it would be a great day!
My husband decided he had to have a beer, a stout, (Guinness.) You could buy stuff like that on the ship. So, off to the Tea Room on the ferry we went. Big bag of rabbit pellets and Mr. Rabbit in a bowling bag, and us. I was lucky Mr. Rabbit didn't pee in the bag because it would have run out the seams, onto my lap and made such a stink....
We sat down, ordered a Guinness for him, tea for me. In front of us, on the long cloth-covered tea table were the pastries, laden on high tiered stands. They looked DELICIOUS! They smelled wonderful. This was looking like it would be a great day!
They smiled and nodded at us. Obviously they could tell we were Americans (dressed weird, looking like tourists.) We held the packages we’d toted in with us: ten pounds of rabbit pellets in Tom’s lap, Mr. Rabbit in his bag in mine. The aroma of the pastries finally toppled my reserve, I lost my determination to keep BOTH hands on that bag.
With one free hand, I reached for a nice, crisp "pastie" (pastry) and began stuffing it in my face. The tantalizing fragrance must have been too much for Mr. Rabbit. He could stand it no more.
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| Delicious pastries adorned the Tea Room table. |
Suddenly, with one powerful thrust, Mr. Rabbit SHOVED his head right out the top of the bag! That sent the zipper pull flying! No way to contain the beastie!
Before I could choke on my pastry, he’d BURST out of the bag! I grabbed at him with my free hand. But my hand closed on air. He escaped!
Before I could choke on my pastry, he’d BURST out of the bag! I grabbed at him with my free hand. But my hand closed on air. He escaped!
That blasted rabbit jumped right up on the TABLE!
You should have seen the expression on the faces of those Scots! If Queen Elizabeth herself had jumped out in her royal UNDIES they couldn’t have been more shocked. Everybody stopped and just stared.
Tom tried to grab for the rabbit and got part of him with one hand. The rabbit started screaming!
Tom tried to grab for the rabbit and got part of him with one hand. The rabbit started screaming!
Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? It sounds like a woman whose tits have been been slammed in a door! Tom had gotten a grip on the rabbit’s ears. He almost halted its progress down the table toward the pastries.
You NEVER want to grab a rabbit by the ears. It hurts! Terribly! Mr. Rabbit was not having that. He began to pedal frantically with his front feet on the nice white table cloth.
You NEVER want to grab a rabbit by the ears. It hurts! Terribly! Mr. Rabbit was not having that. He began to pedal frantically with his front feet on the nice white table cloth.
Jerk, Jerk. JERK!! The table cloth moved in abrupt jerks toward me with each paw of Mr. Rabbit's feet. Clink of toppling china....Screams… paw, paw! Jerk table cloth!
The tablecloth and all on it, began to advance in wild little spasms toward us. Tea spilled, stout pints toppled, pastries fell off display stands. The Scots sat, mouths open, stunned into total silence for a few seconds. They saw their plates, drinks and possessions being jerked toward Mr. Rabbit.
They looked at us as if we were insane. (We must have been.)
The waiter had been alerted by the wild screams of what sounded like a woman getting her tits smashed. He rushed in our direction from across the room.
They looked at us as if we were insane. (We must have been.)
The waiter had been alerted by the wild screams of what sounded like a woman getting her tits smashed. He rushed in our direction from across the room.
His hands were full, holding a tray of drinks and food. He ALMOST made it to the table. ALMOST. Well, not quite.
Fate decided otherwise. Tom LOST his grip on the huge, thin sack of rabbit pellets. It CRASHED to the floor and exploded. Pellets shot out like bullets in every direction, covering the hard wood floor between us and him.
The waiter FELL! Right on his bum! (A _ _!)
The waiter FELL! Right on his bum! (A _ _!)
Rather, he catapulted! His feet went flying out from under him! The tray went right up in the air. Everything came down with a loud SMACK! The waiter, the tea cups, tray, and the foods flew in every direction. Right on top of a sea of rabbit pellets! It knocked the stuffing right out of him.
The Tea Room Manager rushed to his assistance. Not seeing the "pellet carpet", which blended in with the dark floor, he started sliding. DOWN he went too! Pretty much everybody in that room was on their feet then, shouting. The Scot customers were mad as Hell.
I could have killed that darn rabbit.
I could have killed that darn rabbit.
"Who on earth has a RABBIT in a tea room?! What idiot let it get out?" I knew their thoughts. Their tea, drinks and food were all ruined, tipped over, slid down the table away from where they’d sat. Besides, my nasty rabbit had walked all over it. Well, scrambled was more like the truth.
Free of the pellet sack, Tom grabbed Mr. Rabbit with both hands. He threw the screaming, squirming, terrified animal into the bowling bag I was clutching.
He yelled at me, “RUN! Hit the Heads!” (the LOO!) And he bolted for the door.
He yelled at me, “RUN! Hit the Heads!” (the LOO!) And he bolted for the door.
I “split" too! With the bulging, wiggling bag full of rabbit, I ran out the door as fast as I could move my backside. Wobbled over the rolling rabbit pellets. "Danced on them." I almost fell myself.
I sprinted. DASHED!
I sprinted. DASHED!
Tom, keeping his balance on the sea of pellets, beat everybody to the door. (If there’s one thing a SAILOR can do, it’s stay on his feet when the deck of a ship moves!) We both escaped with that rabbit in a bag. We burst out of the room into the hallway. Where were the toilets? (loos)
Wiley sailor Tom headed for the "Lad's" loo (toilet.) He disappeared into the room. I ran into the "Lassie's" bathroom. I knew they’d be looking for me! Quickly, while holding the stupid rabbit in the bag, I climbed up ON the toilet seat lid! Standing, feet apart, I tried to catch my breath. As the ferry swayed, I managed to keep my balance.
I could have swallowed my heart I was so scared.
I could have swallowed my heart I was so scared.
Somebody came banging in, into the loo (toilet). I gasped.
He was shouting, “Be eeny wone een 'eere?” Then he bent, looked under the doors of the stalls for women’s feet. NO feet. The man made the assumption I was counting on. “She dinna be een 'eere!” I heard a breathless voice declare. He left. The noise of people yelling, talking grew fainter. I held my breath. Sounds of heavy footsteps faded. The search party had moved on. Whewwww!
I was not yet out of danger of being discovered. All the way to Dunoon, while the ferry swayed in the surf, I stood up on TOP of that toilet. Mr. Rabbit struggled briefly, now and then. He finally settled down.
You can’t imagine how difficult it is to balance STANDING UP on a toilet seat, holding a squirming, 15-lb rabbit in a bowling bag, WHILE the ship rocked. If I hadn't been so scared I think I would have PUKED, I was so sea sick.
You can’t imagine how difficult it is to balance STANDING UP on a toilet seat, holding a squirming, 15-lb rabbit in a bowling bag, WHILE the ship rocked. If I hadn't been so scared I think I would have PUKED, I was so sea sick.
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| Our ferry was smaller and older than this one, but similar. |
Time crept slowly like an old man trying to have sex. I breathed easier after a while. I kept listening for sounds of Bobbies coming with handcuffs, but heard nothing worrisome.
The Ferry docked and the rocking came to a stop. I listened. The passengers were all disembarking, leaving. Voices faded into the lapping of the water against the ship.
The ship fell almost silent.
I waited. Wondered what Tom had done, if he was caught or not. What would I do if they arrested him? Would I be arrested?
The Ferry docked and the rocking came to a stop. I listened. The passengers were all disembarking, leaving. Voices faded into the lapping of the water against the ship.
The ship fell almost silent.
I waited. Wondered what Tom had done, if he was caught or not. What would I do if they arrested him? Would I be arrested?
When there was absolutely NO sound for 15 minutes, I got down off the toilet seat. I stood stiffly, stretching. Gingerly, I crept out of the loo, into the hallway. Nobody was there. The ship seemed empty. Deserted. It was safe! It was like winning the lottery, me not getting caught!
My arms ached, my head was throbbing. I stood near the open loo door for another 15 minutes, cautiously, looking around, testing the air for sounds. Nothing.
Mr. Rabbit was NOT happy. He’d PEED in the bag. Dripping, it ran down my LEG into my shoe. Oh, Great! Now I was wearing rabbit PEE perfume! I imagined the foul, hideous mess inside. My white rabbit was probably any color BUT white.
He was huffing inside the bag, straining against my grip on the top. I had to move, fast. My fingers were too numb to hold that bag shut if he struggled very hard.
He was huffing inside the bag, straining against my grip on the top. I had to move, fast. My fingers were too numb to hold that bag shut if he struggled very hard.
Like a teenager sneaking out of the house, I crept noiselessly up to the deck were the exit was. Nobody seemed to be on the pier. It seemed clear, deserted. Good! Now where was Tom? I moved as speedily as I could, carrying my dripping, alive bag and got as far as the gate. My wet sock in my rabbit-pee shoe squished with each step. Ughhh!
Out of nowhere a vice clamped down on my shoulder - a hand! I think I jumped five feet in the air and let out an inhuman screech!
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| The man looked like this guy, Capt Weller. What a grand mustache! |
You never want to grab a totally freaked-out woman. I SHRIEKED like a banshee!
I could have animated the dead, I screamed so loud. That worked! The strong hand on my shoulder flew off if it like I was a smoking hot rock!
I whipped around. I looked right into the very angry face of a man in uniform. The Ferry Master himself! His scowling, red countenance bent right into my comfort zone.
I could have animated the dead, I screamed so loud. That worked! The strong hand on my shoulder flew off if it like I was a smoking hot rock!
I whipped around. I looked right into the very angry face of a man in uniform. The Ferry Master himself! His scowling, red countenance bent right into my comfort zone.
“Miss, yah DINNA canny booard th’ Ferry e’er a’geen! I FORBID it!
We KEN ye, we’ll catch ye, if’n yah dooo! Booth of ye!”
I gulped. My "As_ was GRASS", as we Yanks say. No more riding the Ferry from Dunoon. I just stared at him, speechless, waiting for the handcuffs to be clamped on my wrists by a Bobby (cop). The Ferry Master just brushed by me angrily and held the gate open.
He glared at my dripping, smelly bag. I knew what he was thinking.... what he was SMELLING. The disgust was obvious. I "squish-walked" past him, head down.
We KEN ye, we’ll catch ye, if’n yah dooo! Booth of ye!”
I gulped. My "As_ was GRASS", as we Yanks say. No more riding the Ferry from Dunoon. I just stared at him, speechless, waiting for the handcuffs to be clamped on my wrists by a Bobby (cop). The Ferry Master just brushed by me angrily and held the gate open.
He glared at my dripping, smelly bag. I knew what he was thinking.... what he was SMELLING. The disgust was obvious. I "squish-walked" past him, head down.
I skulked by him, apologizing profusely, trying to explain. He didn’t want to hear it. I was BANISHED. Totally. Forever. Me and Mr. Rabbit. Me and Tom. I was counting myself lucky to have escaped a night in the “gaol”. (jail!) Indeed I was lucky.
Tom was standing by his Triumph motorcycle, watching my egress, with a smirk. Beside him stood a very stocky, clean-shaved police officer, scowling and fingering his baton. He looked stern, VERY stern.
I got the message, instantly. Tom, ever the troublemaker, just grinned into his fist, pretending to cough. He had the audacity to wink at me. What an As_!
I got the message, instantly. Tom, ever the troublemaker, just grinned into his fist, pretending to cough. He had the audacity to wink at me. What an As_!
Getting into “hot water” (trouble) was nothing new to HIM. He was a sailor! Getting into mischief was not exactly new to me, either. This was MY first offense in Scotland. Probably my LAST!
Neither of the authorities saw Tom's grin or wink. I did. I was mad. Maybe HE thought I’d had fun, standing up on a toilet seat, holding a fat rabbit squirming in a bag for 25 minutes! Getting peed on!
If I could have swung that bag, rabbit, pee, and all at him, I would have connected, I guarantee you! (Whack! I imagined him flying...)
If I could have swung that bag, rabbit, pee, and all at him, I would have connected, I guarantee you! (Whack! I imagined him flying...)
They left us alone in the parking lot. The two men walked a few feet away, talking, shaking their heads. I was so embarrassed! It would be extremely inconvenient NOT to take the Ferry to Gourock and back anymore. (It WAS quite FUNNY what had just happened, though.
I pictured the scene: That rabbit on the table, pedaling wildly at the white linen tablecloth. Those gawking faces of the people. The falls of the staff.)
I pictured the scene: That rabbit on the table, pedaling wildly at the white linen tablecloth. Those gawking faces of the people. The falls of the staff.)
STOP! I bit my lip to remind myself of what I’d lost. Ferry privileges, FOREVER!
Tom and I debated how to get Mr. Rabbit home. Would he take the motorcycle and go get our pathetic Austin car and return? Would we both try to ride the Triumph, me holding the bag with the rabbit?
That took all of three seconds to decide. The Bobby and Ferry Master came back and ushered us, motorcycle and rabbit, right off that pier.
That took all of three seconds to decide. The Bobby and Ferry Master came back and ushered us, motorcycle and rabbit, right off that pier.
Somehow I managed. I rode behind him, wobbling as he took the curves, trying keep a grip on the rabbit bag and Tom, all the way home to Kilmun. To our rented house, already too full of animals. I ran and changed my socks and my peed-on shoes.
Tom unpacked Mr. Rabbit, and tossed the bowling bag in the trash outdoors. I was sure the Tinkers (gypsies) would retrieve it and sell it later. Gypsies. (Another weird part of Scotland, but very handy sometimes.)
Tom unpacked Mr. Rabbit, and tossed the bowling bag in the trash outdoors. I was sure the Tinkers (gypsies) would retrieve it and sell it later. Gypsies. (Another weird part of Scotland, but very handy sometimes.)
We put out newspapers in one corner of the kitchen. Tom turned loose a wet, stinking Mr. Rabbit. He shook himself and sniffed around. Then, he made a bee line for the papers on the floor. He hopped on them and made a deposit, just as promised.
That was just thrilling to see… At least HE was housebroken. Now, what about having NO rabbit food?
That was just thrilling to see… At least HE was housebroken. Now, what about having NO rabbit food?
Another day, another trip, that was. Tom bribed a friend to go all the way over to Greenock for the stupid rabbit food. That guy toted back 20 lbs of rabbit pellets for us. I could have put a down payment on a Jag for what it cost us to send him over there!
We made sure we told him to STAY out of the Tea Room.
We dubbed our rabbit “Bobby Buns” (a pun on “Bobby Burns” and a play on "Bobby" for the policeman.) We began our new "fugitive" life. With two guinea pigs, four kittens, Brutus the Alsatian, AND that huge, fat, expensive white rabbit.
Yeah, the rabbit that got us kicked off the ferry… TOM'S present. It was all his fault... "Bobby Buns" was not to blame. He was just doing his rabbit thing. I never stopped thinking of that ride back from Gourock. I still do!
(Much thanks to the Maggs and Andy Blackwood of the Dunoon, Argyll, Scotland Facebook page for their photos used here, of the pier, and around the town of Dunoon. ) Great site, lots of gorgeous photos. "Dunoon Argyll Scotland":
Also, thanks to Dougie MacDonald of Dunoon, for his Simon Lake and Dunoon photos!
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