Date: Mon, 18 Jan 2021 00:30:01 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Scotland the Brave  Chapter 2

This story is a work of fiction.  Like all works of fiction it has to have
some basis in reality, even if it is only that its protagonists speak the
same language as the reader, but it does NOT contain any actual people.  If
you think you've spotted yourself, or somebody you know in here -- you
haven't.  Every person in this story (and dog) is my own creation.  There
may also be a mention of characters created by another author.  Jacob Lion,
in America, has kindly permitted me to include his characters in my
stories. It has been impossible to avoid some mention of real places, and
some organisations.  The story is a story and in no way suggests that those
organisations would act in the way that they do in the story.  Although
several of the characters in this story are gay, that is their sexual
orientation and in no way suggests promiscuity.  If you are looking for
pornography of any sort, I can save you some time -- look elsewhere.   If
you wish to read a story of love in its finest form, I hope you enjoy it.

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Scotland the Brave  Chapter 2
By Jonah

There is something wonderful about lying snug and warm and knowing all
around to be exactly the opposite.  I remember in my Boy Scout days being
at my happiest when lying, warm and dry, whilst listening to the rain
pattering on the outside of the tent.

These thoughts were already happily taking a stroll around my brain, even
before Janet rapped on the door and poked more than just her head in.

"I've brought ye a cup of tea Jonah," she announced, and then, "Ach, will
ye look at the wee darling."

I presumed she was talking about Luke, but I was in no position to look at
him.  I could, however, feel his back against mine, and I knew him to be
cuddling Howard. I smiled.

"You love him as much as I do Janet," I said.

"Ach, who wouldn't?" she replied.  "He's a strong one right enough."

I couldn't disagree.

"Well, by the time you've supped your tea, the breakfast will be ready,"
she said before departing.

I supped my tea them leaned over the still sleeping duo to look out of the
window.  The snow was above the level of the windowsill, but that was
easily explained.  Obviously it had filled the gap between our wall of ice
and the glass roof, then continued to build up on the glass roof.  Looking
to one side of the bathroom the snow was at our elevated height for some
way, but looking the other side it was still a fair way down to the
surface.

"Up lads!" I said quietly.  "Breakfast's nearly ready, then I think we'll
have work to do."

Howard rose and stretched himself.  Luke rolled onto his back, patted the
dog and then sat up.

"Is it still snowing?" he asked.

"No, but it has," I replied.  "A lot."

He rolled off the bed and putting on some clothes, followed me downstairs.

Simon and Peter were in the lounge, good naturedly teasing Lady, who
good-naturedly went along with it.  Howard gave one sharp, "woof!" then
joined them.

"It's porridge this morning, Jonah," said Fergus as I went through to the
kitchen.  "We don't know when we'll be able to get to the shops, so we
might have to make things stretch for a day or two."

"We all like porridge," I told him, "but you might end up having to make it
with water if the milk can't get through."

"Ach! What a thing to say to a Scotchman," he replied in a mock-offended
tone.

"Do you have a ladder Fergus," I asked.  "Simon and I might have to shift
some of the snow off that glass roof, or the weight might bring it down."

"Aye, I've a folding one in the wee cupboard.  I'll get it for ye after
breakfast."

"Can we make a snowman?" asked Luke, coming through from the lounge.

"The snow's too deep Luke," I told him, "unless you build it on the
bathroom roof."

"You be careful if ye're climbing about up there," said Janet.

"Ach! It'll not hurt him if he falls off," remarked Fergus.  "He'll have a
soft landing whichever way he falls, but if he falls into a deep bit we
might have to leave him there till it melts."

Luke was smart enough to know that this wasn't meant seriously.  He smiled
at his adopted grandfather.

"Does that mean we can do it?"

"Jonah's your father, not me," replied Fergus.  Gee, thanks a lot.

"Tell you what Luke," I said.  "Simon and I have to clear the glass roof.
When we've finished that, if you still want to do it, we'll give you a
hand."

Luke appeared pleased with that, so we breakfasted and then Fergus got out
the ladder.  Opened out it was more than enough to allow us to climb onto
the bathroom roof, and we found that was the best place to work from.  The
snow shovel handles were just long enough to reach the cottage from
there. Standing side-by-side Simon and I started scooping layer after layer
of drifted snow from the roof and throwing it sideways in the direction of
the wall that we had built up last night.  From the roof we could see that
the wall consisted of a ten foot high ice-face, whose other, and softer,
side formed an escarpment stretching back to the foot of the railway
embankment.

Once we could see reinforced glass we climbed down again. Fergus was
footing the ladder.

"Have you had a chance to look round?" I asked him.

"Aye.  You can see what it's like this side.  The other side you can see
from our bedroom window.  There six foot of the stuff all over.  It's not
just drifts, though there's some of those as well.  It's piled against the
front door, but its level all over the front yard.  There's a Landrover
under there somewhere but, even if we could get to it, it wouldn't do any
good.  We might clear the drive to the road, but what good is that if the
roads haven't been ploughed?  It'll take at least a day for the plough to
get through from Aviemore, if it sets out straight away, but that depends
on what Aviemore's like.  When it get's here, it'll plough the main roads
first before it comes down here."

"Two days, at least then?" I queried.

"Aye, but we should be alright," he responded. "We've got plenty in."

"Good!" I told him, "because we've got a snowman to build."

Well that roof was barely big enough to hold four of us, but it did and, as
we rolled our huge snowball around it, the pitch began to show through the
snow.  Simon had to climb down to roll a smaller snowball to make the head.
It was a fine snowman, with arms of leylandii branches, pared down except
for the ends, and eyes of brussels sprouts.  Fergus found us an old
Glengarry that he no longer wore, since Janet had bought him a new one for
Christmas last year, and an old bath towel made a splendid kilt.  A belt
with a silver buckle was made by Janet from a broad parcel ribbon and
carboard and tinfoil, and a washed -up frozen food tray, with some black
wool made an adequate sporran.  Luke cut a black plastic moustache from
another frozen food tray and the result was magnificent.

It was accorded a round of applause, and enthusiastic cheers, from a group
of railwaymen on the river bridge.  They had arrived with a class 66 diesel
locomotive, sandwiched between two enormous snowploughs.  They had come
from the direction of the station but had come to a stand before venturing
on to the bridge.  The Permanent-way workers were inspecting the bridge on
foot before the locomotive would go further.

Fergus was excited by their arrival.

"Jonah!" he called.  "How difficult would it be to clear a way through to
the railway?"

From my position on the bathroom roof I could see more clearly than he
could. Apart from the escarpment built up against our ice-wall, the snow
didn't seem so deep on the river side of the heap.

"Ten minutes, to a quarter of an hour, I told him, but then we'd have to
get up the bank."

The driver had spotted our predicament.

"Hey!" he called to the men on the bridge, "can we no clear a way through
this stuff on the bank?  These folks are snowed in."

"Aye! Ye'll no be going that way anyway," said the foreman platelayer,
walking back towards him.  "We might as well gi'e `em a hand."

I jumped down from the roof, cautioning the boys against following my
example.  Simon followed me and we both began clearing a narrow track
around to the back of the bathroom and then towards the railway.  We had
not got far before the foreman and three other men met us coming the other
way.  They were used to shoveling great spadesful of granite ballast.  Soft
snow was child's play for them.

"The bridge no use then?"  I asked.

"No," said the foreman. "The line's impassable up by the burn.  We'd hoped
we could clear it, but there's solid ice built up around the rails on the
bridge.  It'd derail the leading plough and tip it into the river, and the
loco would probably follow it.  It's a pity we haven't got a steam engine.
That might have cleared it.  If you need supplies from the village we can
give you a lift to the station.  You'll have to walk back though because
we're off back to Aviemore.  Keep an eye out for trains, but I don't think
there'll be any."

"Fergus, what do we need," I shouted.  He came hurrying up.

"We'd best get tatties, and oatmeal for porridge, and milk.  If you can get
meat for today and tomorrow it'll help. It's a question of how much you can
carry.  I'll just get you some money."

"I've got money, and my card," I told him.  "We'll get what we can."

"We can take you and two of the boys," the foreman said, "if you ride in
front with the driver.  The back cab's full of my men.  It's too cold on
the ploughs."

I thanked him and followed the men to the loco.  Peter and Luke came too,
since Simon had decided they'd better.  We climbed into the leading cab of
the big locomotive.  I had to lift Luke onto the steps as the handrail was
too high for him to reach.  Once in the cab the driver, looking back with
his head out of the window, gave a quick toot on the horn and released the
direct air brake.  We began to roll slowly forward towards the station.
Both the driver and secondman kept their heads out of the window, that
being the only way to see past the huge plough in front of us.  We kept
against the back wall of the cab and could see nothing.

"Can ye watch back from the door in case there's any signals from they in
the back," said the driver.  "I've got tae keep looking forward."

 I slid out of the rear door of the cab and inched my way back towards the
door.  It was draughty because the traction motor blower fan is just there,
and it was drawing cold air and snow through the side grille, but I kept my
back to it and inched my way past.  Getting to the door I pulled it open
and firmly gripping the side of the door, and with my foot firmly planted
against the bottom of it, I leaned out and looked back.  Of the driver and
I, I had the easier task as he was looking forward into the freezing
slipstream.  At least I had my back to it.  As the station platform came
alongside I spotted a high visibility vest at the other end of the
locomotive.  An arm shot out and began gesturing with a slow up and down
movement.

   I shouted forward to the driver,

"He's signalling slow down."

"Slow down!" repeated the driver without turning his head.

I looked back.  The arm was still signalling.

"Slow...... slow........ slow....." I kept shouting at intervals.

Suddenly the arm gave several violent up and down motions.

"Stop, stop, stop." I shouted in my best professional shunter manner (Simon
had taught me well).

"Stopping," the driver shouted back, suiting the action to the word.

We disembarked from the front cab as the permanent-way gang disembarked
from the back one.

"What now?" I asked the foreman, as Luke, Peter and I made our way to the
station exit.

"I'm away to the signal box to report," he replied," and find out what they
want us to do now.  We should be back to Aviemore, but you can never take
anything for granted.  Good luck!"

"Good luck to you," I said, " and thank you."

"Ach ye're welcome," he replied.  "It's a poor show if we cannae help those
that need it."

We thanked him again and took our leave.  The station road was still fairly
deep with snow, but a few trees had prevented it from getting quite as deep
as the riverside.  It still took the best part of an hour for us to push
our way through it to the Spar shop.

The shelves of the shop were almost bare, but the kindly couple who ran it
were helpful in giving us what they could.  I was glad that I'd brought
Luke and Peter.  The knowledge that I had young children to feed definitely
weighed in my favour.  The only fresh meat they had was some mince, but
there was some cooked roast beef too so we took both.  Potatoes were not a
problem, but oatmeal was.  The old lady remembered though that they also
kept rolled oats for animal feed and, although a little coarser than Quaker
Oats, they were essentially the same thing. A large four litre bottle of
milk completed our cargo and we set out to retrace our steps to the
station.

There was no train at the station as we began to pick our way along the
four-foot and back to the river bridge, so it had obviously gone back to
Aviemore.  It was nearly noon by the time we clambered down the embankment
and into Fergus' back garden.

Janet declared herself delighted with our purchases.

"I've got your dinner warming,.  You'll be wanting a good hot meal after
that lot.  It's curried beef with chips and beans.  By the time ye've
washed your hands it'll be ready."

It was, and the hot rice pudding was more than welcome too.

"I'll put that mince in the fridge for tomorrow and we'll have roast beef
sandwiches for tea," she told us.

Well the afternoon was spent in front of the fire.  Three boys and two dogs
delighted the old folks with their antics whilst I sat on the sofa and read
one of Fergus' railway books.

After tea (roast beef and home-made chutney sandwiches as promised) Fergus
decided to stir us into action.

"I mind ye're fond o' Gilbert and Sullivan Jonah," he said.

I admitted that it was so.

"Then why don't we teach the boys some?" he suggested.  "They can all sing
and we've plenty of music."

"Fine by me, if they don't mind," I replied.

From the old piano stool, he produced a vocal score for "Trial by Jury" and
handed it to Simon.  As he seated himself at the piano, Janet came in with
two more scores, so with Simon and Peter sharing, and Luke and me, we were
all ready when Fergus played the intro to "All hail great judge!"

 Those who know the piece will understand why it took a while to teach it,
and when Fergus moved on to "A nice dilemma," well that was calculated to
last the whole evening, but it didn't.  Once Fergus had satisfied himself
that we could cope with those two pieces, he declared us ready for
anything, and commenced the whole opera from the beginning.  We struggled,
but we got through it.  It was probably more hilarious than either Gilbert
or Sullivan meant it to be, but we enjoyed it.  Both dogs joined in and
seemed to enjoy it too.

By the time the boys staggered off to bed, and Janet followed suit, and
Fergus and I had addressed the vexing problem of too high a Glenlivet level
in the bottle, we were a tired but happy bunch.



TO BE CONTINUED