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diff --git a/capsule/content/gemlog/2024-01-29.gmi b/capsule/content/gemlog/2024-01-29.gmi new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec4ae95 --- /dev/null +++ b/capsule/content/gemlog/2024-01-29.gmi @@ -0,0 +1,255 @@ +# EUHWC Toast to the Lassies 2024 + +At the EUHWC Burns meet in Ullapool last weekend, I had the last privilege of giving the Toast to the Lassies. Particularly for the benefit of those who weren’t there, here it is in full! + +Published on: 29 Jan 2024 + +Had Burns, instead of his sweet bonnie Jean, +his skills poetical for to mature +had any one of our club’s lassies seen +he would forever have remained obscure. +If he had nothing but this box of worms +Scotia would have been poorer, that I’m sure. +Now none of us can claim to be a Burns, +I’m no poetic master, still, I’ll have a punt, +though let’s be clear, I’ll do it on my terms. +I’ve everywhere avoided being blunt - +politeness matters more than any schema - +but it is hard when Isla’s such a cunt. +It was a challenge to produce a terza rima +I could recite withouten snoring; +you’ve been so stiff I thought youse had oedema. +The bother is this year is you’ll all been boring: +no drugs, no sex, no gossiping or lies, +no rock and roll, and hardly any whoring. +But hey well, rules is rules, I’ve had to try! +At least it can’t be worse than the reply. + +I’ll start with Audrey, the club’s senior member, +for if there’s something that I say which disconcerts her, +it’s fine: the poor old girl, she won’t remember. +She likes to let us think she’s a hard worker +but we’re electing a third social sec… +it’s pretty clear she’s just another shirker. +This lady, half American, half Czech, +for study, moved to Scotland for to do +American history – really, what the heck? +The club is so much louder thanks to you: +impressive vocals for just five foot two. + +That woman, Willow, reggles is bespeckled +with her sickle and her fishing tackle +shackled by the shins while she is heckled; +the way that Willow waddles maks me cackle +like a speckled jackal getting tickles, +worth a shekel in the tabernacle; +I chuckle muckle at her love of pickles +which she wiggles when she has the heart +while work for the Committee’s fickle trickles. +Her modus operandi: you can’t rush art. +Her reimbursements programme’s going great; +any day now, she’ll maybe even start. +She cannot walk without Audrey, her mate: +I wonder when they’re going to consummate. + +Although they make them pretty tough in Peebles, +the thought of actually going up a peak +fills Shona Lewis with the heeble-jeebles. +New car? We miss your beautiful antique! +How long before this one’s also up a creek? + +Once there was a lass called Hannah Collier +whom even hell below regarded nasty, +deeply despised by all that dwells there. +Dating’s proceeding slowly for our lassie; +not far from giving up til she beguiles +a hot Italian in Southsider: classy! +At first, Michaelo seems to be all smiles +till it transpires he’s one of Dante’s demons… +I guess it’s back to posters of Harry Styles. +One day you’ll get a decent boy, keep dreamin; +somewhere there waits a handsome Mr Collier. +Hopefully when she meets him she’ll no be steamin. +Hannah, I’m not sure why you chose to maul your +poor skeleton at Subway (she’s still tetchy) +and then abandon what remains of all your +dignity at Ryvoan with a Frenchie! +I think he wishes that he never met ye. + +And has a quiet Felicia e’er been seen? +The energy she has is frankly wild. +I’ve never seen a hillwalker so keen! +Ssie ischt raschtlos und nie gelangweilt. +She eats raw oats with soggy protein powder: +a camping pot has ne’er been worse defiled. +She uses what her Maker has endowed her +with: her recorder skills are off the charts; +youse think I’m joking, but I wouldn’t doubt her! +This lass of the land of the Rot-Gold-Schwarz +will soon depart, though long we might beseech you +to stay. Of course, you’ll break all of our hearts, +but mine most of all. Any time, Felicia, +Creag Meagaidh calls, I know routes up the rear +dark and under-explored that I can teach you! +I won’t deny I think it’s rather queer +the things you do with chickpeas, but no matter. +You’re keen, you’re quick, you’re cool, that much is clear. +In fact, I think you’d make a damn good faffer: +swoop down on distilleries like the Luftwaffe. + +And now we come to our girl Emily Topness! +You’re keen for social sec. You’d suit the role +because… I’m not quite sure, it’s embdy’s guess. +We met your sister, and she was just as dull. +No, please drone on about Icelandic soil! +Poor Joe here down the front’s bored out his skull. +And since I mentioned Joe – I hate to spoil +it for you – but you’ve got the inferior Joe, +by Jove, no joke, it’s Jock here’s got the style! +Nah, write the boy a sonnet, get in the flow, +Whatever you produce’ll beat by thrice +your Masters thesis. What’d you got to show +for months of hunting for the butterflies? +‘There weren’t any.’ Oh, and have some sense, +cos I’ve heard rumours – I assume they’re lies – +you’ve called yourself the ‘poet in residence.’ +You know you can’t compete, drop the pretence. + +Tereza was our gear sec for last year. +She helped herself to stuff: that’s factual. +Now when she asks to loan a bit club gear +we have to ask her to provide collateral. +She picked up tin whistle pretty sharp! +Which is to say, she’s not a natural. +She’s nowhere happier than under tarp +gazing up at the moon and stars alone +somewhere distant and remote like Glen Tarff. +Now what to say about Lucy Ma-the-soooon.... +she likes… to faff… mm hmmm… well, moving on! + +And now we come to Emilie the French. +She seems to be nice on the trips we see her +but my distrust of frogs will ne’er be quenched. +Claims she’s a ‘pharmacist’? So she’s a dealer. +Need some pills in a pinch? You call, she’s there +at your door in her rally-approved four-wheeler. +One question we have is, why are you here? +Most folk are in uni, you’ve no refutin +you were kicked out after second year! +Now the Engineering grad, Sophia Newton. +Your namesake, Isaac, was a man convicted, +constructed calculus; but no computin, +not even Isaac’s, could’ve e’er predicted +you’d drop the Eng for creative writing! +now that’s what I would call a self-inflicted +inflection point! It must be quite enlightening, +but that doesn’t excuse when you give us an earful. +The blood boils in our veins, the rage heightening, +and you’re an American, that makes me fearful. +What’s your secret? You have us knackered! +What are you on to always be so cheerful? +Now we approach the topic of Merzbacher. +Wait, she’s not here? Abandoned ship? +She says she’s informatics: so she’s a hacker? +She has strong views, she lets her anger rip. +Poor George got an earful, full of future advice, +but why hasn’t she been on another club trip? +We’re cruel to focus on this list of vice; +the fact remains: she’s headstrong and nice. + +On Skye, a lady gave her poles to Sasha, +which was really nice - I mean just the best - +but Sasha really didn’t have to flash her. +Quick history lesson: way back, RBS +led the banking system to self-destruct +and left taxpayers to pick up the mess. +Since then, the name’s so irredeemably fucked +they’ve had to ditch the brand once and for all. +There’s one lassie who I need not instruct +What, these days, the Royal Bank is called +cos NatWest’s nasty history of scandal +didn’t stop Booth from working there at all. +Nothing motivates her more than to trample +upon the working class. They set her free. +She sank the pound quicker than the Belgrano, +because ‘there is no such thing as society,’ +that’s how it is, is it? All right, I see. + +Now, coming all the way from Glenmore Lodge, +it’s Ellie’s turn! We have done what we can, +although I’m scared what she’ll put in my squash. +She wasn’t into Benji, but listen man, +you’re lucky that you dodged her drunken benders. +You’ll wake up in a tent in Kyrgystan, +as for how you got there, no-one remembers, +and if you’d known you’d be sleeping next to Ellie, +you would’ve brought some fucking ear defenders. +She’ll wrap you in bubblewrap, from your ears to your belly, +cotton clothes for none, and no complaining, +applying safety to the max, spare socks in your wellies. +She’s always at her Mountain Leader training, +practicing her night nav in the locale, +pursuing QMDs - unless it’s raining. +But some water should not scare our gal! +She’s had much experience with the wet as of late: +after all, she got on well with our navy pal. +What was the age of that particular first mate? +Older than your ex - always part of the plan? +Ah, of course! He was a spry twenty-eight! +Youth’s for the losers, let’s get you a real man, +mature and rugged, but kind and astute? +Just make sure he’s not as old as your gran. +One request we all have is you ditch the uke: +never have strings been pluckèd quite so shitely; +we would all much rather be hit by a nuke. +And please shut up about your nice society. +We are all glad you had a fun summer, +but bringing it up throws us right back to sobriety. +To lose you of course would be a bummer: +that is, for your carefully groomed newcomers. + +Now time for the main woman, El Presidente! +To here, it’s been like getting stones to bleed, +but in Isla Burslem’s case we’ve material aplenty! +As Holy Scripture says, ‘let those who lead +well be worthy of double honour,’ so +your bit is double length – it’s quite the screed! +I’ll start off with her brilliant boyfriend – oh! +Not boyfriend! Friend? To me this rather smacks +of low commitment, but what do I know? +So far, he’s disappointing, but on track. +What’s he up to Isla: seven minutes? neat! +Despite that, he is never holding back +your blossoming romance with Dr Peat. +Don’t deny it, that launch was pretty hard! +It’s fifth base next: that’s photos of his feet. +It’s fair to say her reputation’s marred. +We all regret that we did once anoint +her President: her premiership’s ill-starred. +Hey - you’re meant to be in charge of this joint! +You’re seldom seen cos of the mountaineering +meets that you’re always on. You’d made your point +before you chose to go off disappearing +to New Zealand… we get the message! Plus +we’ve had enough of all your domineering: +maybe it’s time we put you on a bus! +Nah, I’m just joking. All I’ve said’s refutable. +But the boys, we mean this next bit, all of us, +so stop me Isla if this isn’t suitable +but honestly we think your mum is beautiful. + +Alas, I have to bring an end to this rhyme. +I know it wasn’t much, in our defence, +the fact you used ChatGPT’s a crime. +I hope I’ve not caused over much offence +don’t worry, that is it, I’ve said my bit, +so I’ll turn from the ladies to the gents. +Yeah, don’t look away now, we wrote this shit! +I see you looking at your laces, Chris! +Wit without real goodwill is not legit, +so boys, don’t send sincerity to piss! +Why did God say he’d take our hearts of stone +and give us hearts of flesh? For this, for this! +Here is flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone; +love, and love nothing more but God alone. + |