A sheep has escaped!

[rich]

A SHEEP HAS ESCAPED
By Richard Sutherland

All characters in this story are fictitious. With the exception of the Sutherland family, the collie dogs, some of the farmers, most of the sheep, John Wayne and the Apache Indians.
In making this story no animals were hurt. But some bagpipes were damaged.
Dear Niki, (my grand-daughter)
I thought I’d tell you how things were in Thurso in the old days when your great grandma and your great grandpa were alive and I was 10.
Your great grandpa was Ronald Sutherland and he was a doctor in Thurso. There was a metal plate outside our house that said, Dr. W. R. N. Sutherland MD, ChB. But my mother, your great grandma, called him Ronald. And he called her, Iris.
As you can see from the map of Scotland, Thurso is rather far away, in the North. But we never thought Thurso was far away. We thought the rest of the world was far away.
Thurso is by a river that runs into the sea, so we had beaches and places to go swimming and cliffs to climb and a harbor where we could catch mackerel (and strange fish called peltags) and, sometimes, salmon. Thurso is a very gray little town where it stays light all day almost all night in summer and stays dark almost all night long in winter. That’s because it is so far north and that’s how things are in the north.
Now, I’ll tell you a story about how it was for us all to live there. I have given the story a name. It is called:
A SHEEP HAS ESCAPED
Your great grandfather, Dr. W. R. N. Sutherland worked very, very hard driving all over the county of Caithness in his Volkswagen car visiting patients who were farmers.
Your great grandma used to say to him: "Ronald, you are working too hard. You really must relax."
But, poor man, he didn’t have any time for hobbies or things that would have made him relaxed. There was one thing though that he really liked. And that was cowboy movies.
One summer, when I was 10, a movie called Stagecoach, starring John Wayne, came to the Thurso cinema. It was showing on Saturday night. My mother said to me, "Richard, you are a big boy now. I am leaving you in charge of the house and of your brothers Alexander and Ronald junior, and your sister Camilla and Lassie and Simon."
(I should tell you that Lassie was a hairy old Welsh sheepdog and Simon was a Siamese cat. Also Ronald junior had a goldfish called PUM but I’m leaving him out because, if I include everybody, I’ll never get this story finished.)
My mother said, "On no account is your father to be disturbed. I want him to see the whole picture without being interrupted by patients phoning the picture house, asking for him. And, then, I’m going to make him a very special dinner with Danish blue cheese which he very much likes and he can have a whisky to help him relax after dinner. Because he has been working much too hard."
So everybody was put to bed early, except for me, and your great grandparents went to the Thurso Cinema, leaving me in charge.
Saturdays were special in Thurso because things happened then. The first thing that happened was that there was a big sheep sale on Saturday afternoons. That was just up from where we lived, on Princes Street. The sale took place at the auction market next to the railway station.
There were outside pens for the sheep and an Auction Room filled with farmers in caps, smoking pipes, and each farmer had his border collie dog to show the sheep where to go. There was a fat auctioneer with a red face and a loud voice who shouted very fast like this:
"FINESETOFLAMBSHEREWHATAMIBIDTHREEPOUNDSTENSHI LLIN GSFOURPOUNDSTENSHILLINGSSOLDTODAVEYGUNNFROMLYBSTER !!!!"
Then, when all the sheep were sold, the farmers went to the Station Hotel Bar which was right across from our house, 55 Princes Street. And they all took their collie dogs to the Station Hotel Bar and some of the dogs would go into the pub with their owners, but most would hang around in the street sniffing and peeing and sometimes having fights with each other.
And, there was something else that used to happen on Saturday evenings. The Thurso Pipe and Drum Band played a concert in the town square and then they’d march up to the Station Hotel Bar to play a last tune.
Then, being very thirsty, they’d fold up their bagpipes and the big drummer would get unstrapped from his big drum and the wee drummers would take off their wee drums and the pipes and drums would be piled up outside the Station Hotel Bar. And the band went in for a refreshing drink.
That’s not all. There was something else that happened in Thurso on Saturday evenings.
Willie and Johnny MacFee’s Fish and Chip Van.
This was a huge, old furniture-moving van, and Willie and Johnny had put a fish fryer in it. Then they cut a counter window along one whole side of the van. And they had salt and vinegar and brown paper bags and fresh fish landed from the fishing boats that very afternoon and the most wonderful chips made from Caithness tatties.

When Willie and Johnny were frying in the van it smelled – heavenly! It didn’t matter if you’d had your tea and stuffed yourself. You’d still want fish and chips from the Thurso Fish and Chip Van.
Well, then: my parents were in the Thurso Cinema, in the balcony, watching John Wayne being chased across the USA by Apache Indians.
MEANWHILE the Station Hotel was full of farmers and dogs.
MEANWHILE the pipe band were playing and marching up Princes Street, headed for the Station Hotel Bar.
MEANWHILE in the Fish and Chip Van, Willie turned to Johnny and said, "Let’s go and park outside the Station Hotel Bar because there will be a lot of hungry farmers there plus the lads from the pipe band." And so they drove up Princes Street.
THEN something unexpected happened.
Outside the house I could hear the clattering of hooves and shouting. So I went to the front door and looked out.
There was a sheep sunning down Princes Street. Running after the sheep was the fat, red-faced auctioneer, looking redder-faced than ever, and two of his assistants.
"Stop that sheep!" yelled the auctioneer.
"Runaway sheep," shouted one of his assistants.
The sheep was going really fast.
The sheep arrived at the Station Hotel Bar at the same time the Pipe Band did.
The Pipe Band was busy disbanding itself. There were moaning, groaning, wheezing noises as the pipers squeezed the last of the air out of their pipes. The drummers were taking off their drums. And Big Jock Sinclair who played the big drum was just unstrapping it when……
…..the sheep ran into him – and right through the big drum – BAROOM! RRRRIP…..

Poor Jock fell over on his back with his legs in the air and the drum on top of him with a hole the size of a sheep in it.
And that’s when Willie and Johnny arrived in the Fish and Chip Van. The sheep was going to run right into the van. So Willie swung the steering wheel right round to avoid hitting the sheep
Unfortunately, Johnny had lined up 32 fish and chip suppers in brown paper bags for the people soon to be coming out of the Station Hotel.
Up in the air went all the fish and chips!
And, when the fish suppers hit the ground that, was the signal for all the collie dogs to charge out on the road, gulping them down and fighting over the leftovers.
One of the collies got over-excited and ran up poor Big Jock’s kilt and nipped him in the bum. So poor Jock was lying there under his drum, yelling.
Next the sheep ran up the steps of the Station Hotel Bar and disappeared inside. The Bar was full of farmers, and when the sheep hit them they didn’t know what had happened. Drinks were spilt; furniture was knocked over; people fell off their bar stools; the MacDonald twins from Castletown started fighting each other because each thought the other had spilt his drink.
One collie dog, called Fly, ran behind the bar and knocked over a barrel of beer which spilt all over the floor. Then Fly rolled in it.
The sheep shot through the Bar into the Gent’s toilets.
Now, at this time, sitting on the lavatory seat was a farmer called Duncan Campbell from a wee place called Shebster. Duncan was feeling very sad. He was a very soft-hearted man. He hated selling his animals.
Duncan and his wife had a favourite sheep called Daphne. Daphne’s mother had died so Duncan and his wife fed Daphne sheep milk through a baby’s bottle, until the little lamb was strong enough to go out in the field and eat grass.
Then, one day, the fat, red-faced auctioneer came round and said, "Duncan, why don’t you sell that sheep?" And because Duncan needed the money, he said yes. So Daphne had been sold at the Saturday auction.
And now, Duncan was feeling absolutely terrible. What if Daphne’s new owners made her into mutton pies? Oh, no! Duncan sat on the wooden seat of the loo and clutched his head in his hands. He could hear the sound of breaking glass and shouting and barking but he was too depressed even to be curious.
Then, suddenly, the door of the loo smashed open and a frightened sheep jumped right into Duncan’s arms – knocking him off the toilet onto the floor.
"Daphne!" shouted Duncan in joy as he lay on the floor with the sheep on top of him.
"Baaaaaa!" said Daphne. For, indeed, it was she. And she licked Duncan’s ear.
Just about this time our front door bell rang. I opened it and there was a policeman.
"We need the doctor," said the policeman. "There has been an accident. In fact, there has been a whole series of accidents."
So, I telephoned the Thurso Cinema. I tried to explain to the manager just what had happened.
"I’ll make sure Dr. Sutherland gets the message," he said.
The film had just reached the most exciting part where the Apache Indians had finally overtaken the stagecoach and John Wayne had climbed on the roof and was knocking Apaches off when they tried to climb aboard.
Suddenly, a little handwritten note appeared at the bottom left hand corner of the screen.
The note said: DR. SUTHERLAND GO HOME. A SHEEP HAS ESCAPED.

"

[rich]

The note said: DR. SUTHERLAND GO HOME. A SHEEP HAS ESCAPED.


“I’d better go,” said your great grandfather.

“Ronald, I am absolutely furious about this,” said your great grandmother. “Sheep are for vets. You’re not a vet. Really, what next….?”

But when they came round the corner into Princes Street – what a sight!
There was the Fish and Chip Van across the middle of the road. There were the fish and chips, what was left of them, on the road.
There were the collie dogs running around chasing each other and
fighting over left-over fish bits. There was Big Jock sitting outside the Station Hotel on a heap of collapsed bagpipes he was using for a cushion because his bum was sore. There was the collie dog called Fly being carried out in his owner’s arms, sound asleep and snoring after swallowing beer.

There were the MacDonald brothers who had made up after their fight and had their arms around each other, saying, “I’m sorry, Donnie, it was my fault.” “No, Ian, it was my fault.” And soon they looked as if they were going to have another fight about whose fault it was.
Finally, out of the Station Hotel Bar came Duncan with Daphne. He had taken his tie off and put it around Daphne’s neck as a lead.

Your great grandmother knew at once what had to be done.

“Willie and Johnny MacFee, you must make everybody a cup of tea,” she said. (The Thurso Fish and Chip Van also sold tea and chocolate biscuits.)

“Anyone who has suffered an injury must go at once to the surgery in Dr. Sutherland’s house at 55 Princes Street,” she said.

So your great grandfather put an elastoplast dressing on Big Jock’s bum and saw two other farmers who had fallen off stools in the commotion in the Station Hotel Bar. He told the fat red-faced auctioneer, “You’re too fat to be running down Princes Street. Lose ten pounds!”

MEANWHILE: Duncan drove home to Shebster with Daphne in the back seat. (The fat, red-faced auctioneer had said to Duncan, “I never want to see that sheep again. Don’t ever bring her back to Thurso!”)

MEANWHILE Alexander, Ron Junior and Camilla and Lassie and Simon (but not PUM) all got out of bed and helped serve tea or just ran around, enjoying the fun.

MEANWHILE your great grandfather was wondering, “How DID that film end…?”

And that was what happened one Saturday night in Thurso, long ago.

Oh, and one other thing.

Your great grandmother said, “From now on we’re going to Edinburgh for two weeks every summer so your poor father can get a rest.”

But that’s another story.

[karia]

We read pt2..where'd it go?

Poor Daphne has yet to flourish!


kariaxx

[trinkie]

Rich, Thank you .
I received my Bristol Cream a bit early this year and I cant wait to open it. So, this afternoon I will sit for an hour with scooner glass and your story, duly copied onto paper from which I prefer to read.
It promises to be a good yarn.........

Trinkie

[trinkie]

Well, that's what I call a great story !
There was much guffawing as I sat there slurping the Bristol Cream. I haven't had so much fun on a Saturday nicht in Thurso, for many a long day !

I look forward to some more of your memories.

Trinkie

[Sporran]

That was a very charming story, Rich. Not baa-d at all! I look forward to reading some more of your Thurso tales!

Sporran

[trinkie]

This is a great story and well worth another read.
Do you have any more of this ilk ?

With eager anticipation
Trinkie.

[golach]

yes Rich, I am sure you have more tales to tell, any about your days in Dundee, or even the Waverley bar in Edinburgh where we met? Rich introduced me to the only bar I know that has free bags of crisps.

[davie]

Impressed Rich, tell us more.