What I did on my Holidays

 I have a slight - a very slight - hardly noticeable - quite insignificant, really - hearing loss. And very expensive hearing aids. And subtitles on the telly. 

I live in a Coonty where they talk like this:

Depressing as hell, isn't it? And the god-awful music. And the pillock emphatically stating how safe Orkney is. For god's sake, doesn't he read the Criminal Court pages in the Orcadian? Note that - pages - not half a page, not a paragraph, but at least two solid pages reporting on the Kirkwall Sheriff Court. Higher percentage of offenders on the Sex Offender Register than Glasgow, adjusted for population size. Drugs, Booze, Domestic Violence, Rape, Murder - just like anywhere else, really, where humans cluster and abuse each other.

Orkney's week of agricultural shows has just concluded, with the County show last Saturday. As the blurb says: "Orkney's shows are more than a day out for the farmers. They are a huge draw for families who enjoy seeing the animals, catching up with friends, and browsing at stalls selling locally produced crafts and goods, food produce, and country clothing or chatting at the fundraising tents and entering their competitions and raffles, or viewing the latest farm implements for sale."

"You'll normally find showjumping, dog trials, a fun fair, entertainment and food outlets at the shows too. All in all, a great day out!"

Yeah, right. 

I don't actually go to any of the shows - East Mainland, Shapinsay, Dounby, or the Coonty Show. I've been in the past and really don't feel the need to go again. I don't like beer, mud or coos. Not keen on people, either. But I do listen to Radio Orkney, which was breathless with excitement, reporting on the marvellous exhibitions of shampooed and blow-dried goats and precocious children over-the-mooning about sitting on a pony or leading the family dog around the ring. It was all the usual stuff the other morning, when I, morosely spooning in Live Greek Yoghurt for my micro-biome, heard the presenter announcing the next category - the Poet's Section.

Wow, thought I, performance poetry. 

Would it be in Orcadian dialect, like Harry Josephine Giles?

Harry, an alumni of St. Andrew's University.

Cameron Stout, the Radio Orkney presenter, informed the listenership that he was takkin the microphone inta the mar-quee. Would the poets be in booths, I wondered? Would they get rosettes?

But, no. 

The airwaves were melodious with clucking, crowing and squawking.

For this relief, much thanks.

Not Poets.

Poultry.

I blame Cameron Stoot and his diction. Nothing to do with my insignificant, really slight, hardly noticeable, hearing loss.

So, no, mrs narcolept, I didn't go anywhere lovely on my hols, thank you for the kind thought. I had family visiting, escaping the ferocious heat South to enjoy the wind, rain and fog of an Orkney Summer.