“A dog’s a dog for a’ that”

It’s been a while but ah’ve been supervisin’ frost patrol and frankly ah’m knackered.  It’s no sae much the work (which Kyle does the maist o’) it’s more the management role – studyin’ the weather forecast, watchin’ the stars come out, waitin’ for the full moon (it’s ae at the full moon that ye get the clearst nights) and then makin’ sure the windmills are oan and the water’s flowin’ - it’s the lack o’ sleep.  Now ah’m a young dug, fit as a fiddle but it wears ye doon.  Ah’ve seen mornin’s where the sight o’ a petanque ball has gie’n me a real scunner.  No like me to not have a wee dribble wi’ the petanque ba’.

Ah’ve no idea why ah chose ‘a dogs a dog for a’ that’ as the title for this wee epistle.  But, y’know, some hooligan ripped the locks affa one o’ the toilet doors while ah wis oot an’ aboot entertainin’ the punters wi’ ma petanque.  So ah got tae thinkin’ what’s tha’ a’ aboot.  Ah kin’ unnerstan’ losin’ the place a wee bit if ye get stuck in the lavvy but that doesnae mean ye need tae clock the lock.  Ah don’t use the lavvy masel but, though I am quite punctilious about where ah goes.  Ah like a wee bit privacy and no’ tae be too disturbed though if there’s another dog aroun’ ah might have a wee sniff.  Aye, a dog’s a dog for a’ that.

Ma latest trick, which ah’m quite pleased about, is that ah’ve managed tae heave the petanque ball into the tasting area as required.  Ma’ nose is getting’ quite used tae the extra strain, and it’s no sae bad wance ye’ve got it o’er the wooden threshold at the door.  It’s great the way folks want tae play wi’ me tho’ ah must admit occasionally ah’m a wee bit worried that somewan’s gonnae clock me on the nut wi’ the heavy ba’

An’ huv ye heard that thon Sithifrikan winemaker has gone away back to where he came frae.  Aye, he’s up and offed – gotta new joab in some place cried Hermanus.  He’s been wi’ us seven years – nice big bloke, used tae throw petanque ba’s fur me an’ always made sure no’ tae clock me wi’ wan.  Ah’ll miss his dog Lana.  She’s no goin’ wi’ them – gonnygo some where local.  She’s a nice big dug, Rhodesian Ridgeback.  We used tae get on fine.  Ah’d walk unner her legs and nip her ankles – jus’ tae keep her interested.  Min’ you she wissnae much cop at petanque – too high aff the groun’.

So, there’s a wee bit o’ change in the air.  Summer’s comin’, the days are gettin’ longer, petanque season is here, James, the Chef’s taken aff his winter simmit and rolled up his sleeves.  He’s ready for a busy season in the café and ah’m primed tae entertain you during yer meal – wha’s like us?’ gie few, an’ there a’ deid.

Fair Fa' Yer Honest Soncie Face

Aye weel, ah thocht he was talkin’ aboot me, and then he goes “great chieftan o’ the puddin’ race”.  Weel, ah am a chieftan (McLeod of Gladstone no less) but “pudding” that’s goan a wee bit far.  OK ah’m short an’ stoutly built but a pudding, weel that’s a bit below the belt (no’ that there’s far tae go).  Anywise, it turned oot he wis talkin’ tae the haggis.  Mind you he’ll talk tae anyone and anything, I sometimes worry about him.  Just as weel it was the haggis as later oan he stabbed it and gave it a right goin’ over “see its gushing entrails bright”.  Oh aye, nae bother, nae mercy eether.  Glad it wis no me efter a’.

The piping of the haggis and Rabbie Burns’s Address wis all part of “An Offally Scottish Affair” the café held for ‘Wellington on a Plate’.  The place was fu’ of folk who like to eat “the gushing entrails bright”.  They had haggis, neeps and tatties, lambs fry, kidneys, beef cheeks – you name it, it was offal.  And there was a wee glass o’ wine or three, oh aye an’ a wee snifter wi’ the haggis.  Ah’m no a drinkin’ man mysel.  Ah mean ma legs are short enough as they are – imagine me legless!

Ah wis oan duty right frae the word go with my rendition of how to play petanque wi’yer nose to greet punters as they arrived.  I then duly followed the piper around havin’ a wee jig and a birl as the occasion demanded.  And, of course, there wis the odd wee scrap to be had if you looked at the punters pitiful like.  Ah’m getting’ quite guid at that.  Ah tell ye, have ye tried diced paua and black puddin’ mixed thegither.  It’s rerr, talk about tasty.

Aye, it was a great day.  Of course, James our chef is a Scot tae so he’s easy tae unnerstaun.  He done a great joab.  And Paul Turner has been appointed Gladstone Vineyard Clan Piper.  Weel, he deserves it.  He’s a dab hand on the pipes and he’s a mean fiddler.

Me, happy paddlin' at Hatepe



Afore ah go, ah should just mention that ah wis left tae ma own devices, yet again, the week afore last.  They wis aff galavanting again, this time to Sydney.  But, full credit, they came back wi’ a wee trophy frae the Australian Boutique Wine Awards fur the Gladstone Vineyard Pinot Noir 2010.  So, ye cannae be too huffy – mind you don’t let them hear ah said that.  Otherwise they’ll cut ma rations – wouldn’t that be offal??

And, they're takin' me tae Hatepe this week for a wee break.  It's rerr there an' ah get to walk by the river and have a wee paddle in the Lake.





Bacon, Pork and Ham

Ah! weel it’s been quite a wee while since ah last wrote and tae be honest ah jist don’t know where the time’s went.

First, the sad news.  Ma aul’ freen Baxter passed away.  Ah’ve only known him the past nine months or so but he had become a dear, dear frien’ tae me.  He wis like an uncle, aye keepin’ a wee lookout fir me and showin’ me the ropes.  Ah don’t know what ah would hae done wi’oot Baxter when ah first came here.  Ah wis lonely and he took me under his wing (his paw actually).  Nuff said, but he wis the best freen a wee fella like me, startin’ oot in the world, couldae had.  Ah’ll miss him.

It wis ma first vintage and as far as ah can gather it went really well.  Ah’ve no tasted the wine just yet.  Ah leave that tae others as ah gather my palette may be a little immature.  Bloody cheek, but there you are.  As ah said afore, Baxter and me supervised the pressing.  They say grapes arnae good for dogs but Baxter said it was OK so I got right toar in.  Ah think I may be a Sauvignon man though I do find the Pinot Noir also tae ma taste (nae palette indeed).

Ah had two new friends for the time – Neil frae South Africa and Matt frae Aberfeldy.  Ah couldnae unnerstan’ much of what Neil said, especially when he bantered away wi’ Gerard in that Afrikaans of theirs, but ah unnerstood every word o’ Matts – clear as a bell!  Funny, cos no-one else could unnerstaun a wird he said.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the same place if Her and Him didnae go aff somewheres for a few weeks selling the wine.  This time apparently it wis China.  So, off they went and ah was taken to stay with my auld frien’ Stanley at Waikanae.  There awefie nice folks over there and they seem to know a bit about lookin’ after wee animals like masel.  There was Stanley the Labrador, and auld Dudley (aulder than Baxter) and who disnae know what he is (Huntaway, Labrador??).  He has a wonky ear and doesnae always make oot whit your sayin’.  And then there are three cats and four children.  Man, it’s all on.

Anyway, I had been feelin’ a wee bit unner the weather but no sooner arrive than Boabs yer uncle, ontae the antibiotics and a wee special bath and right as rain – nae sooner said than done.  Apparently, ah had a yeast infection that’s common tae wee fellas like me.  Certainly ma paws had been givin’ me gyp for a good wee while so it wis guid tae be wi’ folks that cared aboot me (and werenae aff galavantin roun’ China or the likes – no names).  Lyn and Warren are Vets but ye couldnae tell cos they’re quite nice – and at least they look after me properly.

So that’s me up todate.  Save tae mention the three wee craters that arrived the mornin’.  No’ sure just what they are just yet, havnae been introduced, but ah hear their cried Bacon. Pork and Ham – funny lookin’ dogs if that’s whit they are.

p.s.  ah’ve noticed Sara aroon the place the last few days but ah’m playin’ it casual, no quite ignoring her but no pushin’ in either.  Occassionally ah push a petanque ball in her direction just tae let her know ah’m there – but ah don’t want to raise her hopes (or mine).

“Only his mother could love him”

So, dae any o’ youse play petanque?  Ah dae.  Do any o’ youse get callouses on yer nose frae pushin’ the petanque balls?  Ah dae.  Ah might huvtae claim ACC (Accidents to Canines Compensation) ‘cos sometimes it gets red raw and ah might need a wee poultice.  Ma petanque demonstrations are becoming very popular.  I wont say that it’s necessarily the only reason folk come tae the vineyard but Ah’m certainly a main attraction.  It shows ah tak’ ma role seriously as public relations adviser.  Even as blood runs frae ma’ nose ah soldier on in all weathers, pushin’ petanque balls (through pain and sufferin’) just so’s tae mak the customer satisfied.  Ah’m quite a martyr tae it.

Mind you ah was awfie embarrassed the other day.  Ma Ma came tae visit – no’ ma Ma, ma real Ma (frae Ngarawahia).  She lives in Greytoon noo wi’ an offy nice wummin ca’ed Janet.  So there wus I, entertaining the punters wi ma petanque ba’ when, without a by your leave, upsteps this very smart lookin’ wummin (dug).  She was beautifully coiffeured an’ aw that stuff, quite stunning really (the dug that is – oh aye and the wummin too). 

“Hey McLeod come and meet yer mither” says ma Ma (human).  Well Ah was black affronted.  Here wus I with biddy bids in ma fur, ma nose shiny frae a’ the petanque and ah had tae meet this glamorous wummin (an’ her mistress).  Well, of course ah wis pleased tae see her – recognized her right away.  We had a wee sniff thegither – nice.  But, ah was that embarrassed by my appearance that ah felt ah had tae get back tae work, tae ma petanque balls and lookin after the customers.  It wis great tae see her but ah hope she gives me warning next time so’s a kin smarten masel’ up – and maybe let ma nose heal a bit.

By the way, it’s vintage now and they’re a’ busy picking the grapes and bringing them into the winery.  Baxter has been great at showin’ me the ropes.  Basically, you sit beside the de-stemmer crusher and wait for them to tip over the grapes intae the crusher.  Of course, they don’t all get in the hopper and the spillage is free game for smart young dogs like us (well me – Baxter may be smart, hard to tell, but he sure isn’t young).  I haven’t decided whether ah prefer pinot noir to sauvignon blanc.  Ah might just like them both.  Mind you – everything in moderation.  First time oot ah overdid it and threw up in the kitchen beside the cat’s food bowl.  That pit the cats aff so ah ate the cat food anyway and that put ma stomach tae rights.

So, we’re half way through vintage.  Ah’ve no’ been sick again.  The Riesling’s lookin’ nice.  Ah’m quite a connoisseur y’know.  Till next time – bottoms up!  Which reminds me – don’t laugh – ah’m goin’ tae dog obedience classes wi’ ma Ma.  Every Tuesday.  They ask me tae ‘sit’ and ‘lie doon’ and ‘come’.  Right, let’s get real here.  How can they tell if ah’m sittin’ or ah’m doon?  It’s a’ the same tae me.  “Come’ is different an’ ah’ve no’ mastered that yet but who cares?  Ah’m no’ fussed!!

Scots wa hae.

“My luv is like a red red rose (very expensive)”

It’s over.  She’s up and offed back tae University, never a by your leave – naethin’.  Ah’m devastated.  Whody thought?  Me? A handsome young buck like me?  It’s hard tae believe.  Admittedly Ah’m a wee bit vertically challenged but to be thrown over by a young slip o’ a thing….  Actually, ah think she still fancies me – probably crying hersel’ tae sleep in her wee dormitory – poor wee lamb.  Ah was going tae buy her a rose for Valentines Day.  As it happened ah got masel’ some Schmackos instead and felt much better – money well spent.  It would have been all too expensive – chasin’ a bird – us Scotties have got tae be canny wi’ oor bawbees.  Anyhow, plenty more fish in the sea, ‘cept ah don’t fancy fish.

"Me and ma caur"

So, the folks came back back frae Scotland, intae Summer Shakespeare (they were offy nice people), veesitors from Hong Kong then Ma and Pa’s auld freen’ Robin and Linda came to visit.  Started school thegither (Pa and Robin) when they wus five.  Hard tae imagine them as five – sad old codgers.  It was bad enough Ma and Pa gaun’ aff tae Scotland wi’oot me but aff they go wi’ Robin and Linda to the South Island (Dunedin and a’) again wi’oot me.  At least they admitted it wus a hoaliday this time. 

Ah wus left wi’ a lodger.  She was nice enuff, in fact very nice indeed but y’know ah think ah may be beginning to get a wee bit fond of the old folks.  Ma’s a bit like me, a wee terrier.  She’s aye on the go.  Whereas ah’ve no idea how he spends his time – sleeps more than Baxter as far as Ah kin see.  Anyways, aye, ah missed them.  They got back in time for the Wine harvest Festival (trust them).  Apparently, it wis a great day and great fun.  Ah stayed behin’ at Gladstone tae take charge o’ operations there.

Talkin’ of operations (which I wasn’t) the latest news is ah’ve been tae the vets again.  No’ quite sure what happened there as ah’ve no’ been sick.  In fact ah’m as fit as a fiddle.  Apparently I had a wee Op.  Anyhow, whatever it was, there’s been a lot o’ wee snidey comments and jokes gaun around centred oan me.  Apparently, they’re sayin’ Lana, Gerard the winemaker’s ten foot tall Rhodesian Ridgeback is now safe from my amorous advances.  Ah don’t get it.  Ah don’t even fancy her.

By the way, apparently chasing the hens under the nets is aff limits.  Ah’ll need tae look up ma contract.

Vintage is comin’ up soon so ah’ll let ye all know soon enough how that’s gawin’.  Let the sun shine!

Abandonment

Yeah Gidday (tryin’ tae mug up oan ma kiwi accent)

Anyway, no sooner have ah arrived than off they go – the pair o’ them, and tae Scotland of all places.  Here’s me jus’ settlin’ in and they’re up an’ oot.  Anywise ah was left with Sara and frankly if ah wisnae a dog and just ane foot high ah’d marry her.  Ye see, ah hid this wee leg strain (from chasin’ they cats) and ah thocht ma leg wus broke.  Well, it wisnae but Sara just treated me so right – aff tae the Vet was I, x-rays oh yes, no expense spared.  Must’ve cost Ma and Pa an airm and a leg (gettit?).  Anyway serves them right – leavin’ me like that.  At least ah’ve got Sara (I think it may be love).

Back they come all fu’ of themselves – “how’s ma wee boy?” They says.  I gave them the cold shoulder (sma’ as it is) and so did Baxter except he’s deef and hadnae noticed they’d gone (and wus back).  Sky couches, tapas in Madrid, wine fair at Lord’s Cricket Ground (Nursery End), Winchester Cathedral, Liverpool and the Cavern (fab eh!), rellies and freens in Glasgow, St Andrews (home of golf), Melrose (home of seevens) and London (home of the Tukie Embra – go on say it).  Business trip, some business trip, distributors, wholesalers, retailers - pull the other leg.  Actually don’t – ah’d fall over.  Ah kin tell a jaunt when ah see one.

“If music be the food of love, play on”.  Aye, me an’ the Bard are best mates.  “Let loose the dogs of war”.  Och aye that’s me right enough.  So, this week ah’ve got all these new freens – come up frae Wellington tae perform Twelfth Night right here at home.  Well, it’s ma favourite Shakespearian play.  Think ah’m jokin’?  Well just haud on.  Ah’m as cultured as the next man (dog).  Ah know ma Shakespeare and this is the best.  Thing is there doin’ it doon by my pond where ah go swimming, well up tae ma oxters.  They’ ve got this 1920’s theme – flappers, straw hats, boas and Noel Coward songs.  It’s really good – “Heaven, I’m in heaven.”

I wonder if Sara wid dance wi’ me??

Let the blogging begin...

Hello.  Och, aye the noo!!

Ma name is McLeod.  Ah’m the new Public Relations Advisor at Gladstone Vineyard.  A’ve this McLeod tartan collar (that ye cannae see).  A’m a Scottish Terrier but and A’m nearly six months old.  I wis born near Ngarawahia (in New Zealand, of all places) on the road tae Raglan so by rights I should be a Westie (West Highland Terrier, get it?) but am no’, am a Scottie.  I wisnae actually born on the road.  I was born in kennels wi’ ma brothers and sisters.

I missed them tae begin wi’ but my new uncle Baxter (he’s a boxer) has been muckle kind tae me and let’s me chew his legs.  He’s no’ much o’ a conversationalist but and disnae respond to my barking.  Actually, he disnae respond to much at all.  He’s a lot older than me.  He's so auld he's almost as auld as my Ma and Pa.

Ah’ve been made Public Relations Advisor at Gladstone Vineyard (posh eh!), I think, tae liven the place up a bit.  Ah get my board and lodgings (though I huvtae share with Baxter) and a fairly decent meal of a morning (though no porridge yet).  Otherwise I huvtae live off customer tips.  Ah’ve plenty o’ toys – a toy reindeer frae Christmas and a squeaky duck (excellent noise).  I like the two cat toys best, Freddie and Freda.  One’s a tabby and the other black just like me.  They’re good tae chase and I am sure next time ah’ll catch ane.

As Public Relations Advisor ah huvtae greet customers when they arrive; let them stroke and pet me (it’s nae bother); cruise the tables making sure everyone pats me again.  Ah’m pretty cute.  And then ah huvtae pick up odd titbits that fall on the grun’.  That’s the tricky bit – getting’ the customers tae drap stuff.

Anyway, I’ll keep in touch and let you know what’s happening here at the vineyard and how life is tracking.  I’ve got a lot to do to knock this place into shape but so far its been no’ sae bad.  Lang may yer lum reek.

Yours aye

(Lord) McLeod of Gladstone