Grannie Island's Ceilidh - Granpa's Bowl Katie Morag

# Katie Morag

# Far away across the ocean

# Katie Morag

# Over the sea to Struay

# Katie Morag

# Far away across the ocean

# Katie Morag

# Over the sea to Struay

# Katie Morag. #

LAUGHTER AND CHATTING

I love parties

and I reckon Grannie Island's are the best in the whole wide world.

They go on way past our bedtime.

But, as long as we've brushed our teeth and put on our jammies,

we're allowed to stay up.

Grannie Island doesn't call them parties,

she calls them ceilidhs.

Right then, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen,

let's gather round.

Who's ready tonight for some real entertainment?

Most people think ceilidhs are all about dressing in kilts

and whirling each other round the room.

But at Grannie Island's ceilidhs we don't just dance, we sing songs,

play music and tell stories, as well.

Oh, well done!

Now, whose turn is it to pin the tail on the island?

Me! Me, me, me, please.

You know this? You've been such a good girl, it is your turn. Come on.

We always play pin the tail at Grannie Island's ceilidhs.

The children take turns sticking a wee pin on the map of Struay.

Then one of the grown-ups tells us a tale about that part of the island.

Hm, it's the Holiday House.

Who knows a story about the Holiday House?

-I believe I have a good one.

-On you go, then, Peter.

This is a story about a woman called Mrs Finlayson,

who lived in a wee croft near the ruined village not too long ago.

She lived with her husband and her two children -

Donald, who was eight, and Maggie, nearly six.

The family were poor,

but Mrs Finlayson always made sure the children were fed and clothed.

And anyone who knew her would say what kind

and helpful friend she was.

But, despite her many good points, Mrs Finlayson was not happy.

Indeed, she would get very grumpy sometimes

and her face would get all tight and twisty.

Like she was eating a lemon, but forgot to add sugar.

The family would try not to laugh,

but the reason that Mrs Finlayson was grumpy

was that she believed she wasn't quite as good as everyone else.

She couldn't help but feel ashamed of their little house and poorness.

And when she felt like that, lemony face would appear.

In those days, a very rich woman would come to Struay

every summer for holidays

and stay in the big Holiday House.

One particular day, Mrs Finlayson met the holiday woman in the shop.

Just as she was leaving, the Ferryman's wife came in,

and, to Mrs Finlayson's amazement, the holiday woman said,

"Marvellous high tea, yesterday, Mrs Ferryman.

"Delicious cake. Thank you."

Well, you could have blown Mrs Finlayson down with a feather.

Imagine inviting the holiday woman to high tea?!

The idea of such a person seeing inside her own poor little cottage

filled her with embarrassment.

Yet, Mrs Ferryman's cottage was much the same as hers.

She didn't know where it came from,

but she was as surprised as everyone else when she heard herself say,

"Perhaps you would like to come to lunch next Tuesday?"

The holiday woman smiled and said, "I would be delighted."

The days leading up to the holiday woman's visit

were a hurly-burly of preparation.

Mrs Finlayson cleaned the cottage from top to bottom.

Maggie collected flowers for the table

and Donald took a handful of books

and placed them above the fireplace,

just as if they were always there and often read.

But still Mrs Finlayson worried.

The reason was a person I haven't yet mentioned -

a very old man by the name of Murdo.

Murdo was the children's grandfather. A kind, gentle man,

he'd lived with the family since before Maggie was born.

He was frail and not steady with his hands.

At meal times, he would struggle to feed himself.

Much of his dinner landed on the table or the floor.

Mrs Finlayson was a kindly woman

and rarely complained when Murdo made a mess.

But rarely isn't never.

So she bought a deep clay bowl for Murdo.

It meant the food didn't skitter off so easily.

It was known as Granpa's bowl and no-ne else ever used it.

So, Tuesday lunch arrived and the Finlayson family,

dressed in their Sunday best, opened the door to the holiday woman

and welcomed her to their house. At first, everything went well.

The holiday woman made "ooh" and "ah" noises

about the "darling" house.

She chatted to the children, who were on best behaviour.

Mrs Finlayson relaxed.

Murdo made an effort to delicately eat the delicious soup

Mrs Finlayson had prepared from the spinach they grew on the croft.

It might have been better if he hadn't made such an effort.

To try to be tidy, he'd lift the bowl to his lips

but he lost his grip and it slipped from his fingers.

In his panic, Murdo gave the bowl a thwack.

It tumbled through the air

and landed in front of the holiday woman

and exploded into a dozen pieces,

showering her with bright-green spinach soup.

Everyone looked at the green sludge making its way

from her blonde curls down over her surprised face to its destination -

the front of her oyster-pink casual day jacket.

Suddenly, Mrs Finlayson leapt into action.

She snatched up a napkin and started wiping the jacket,

but all she did was spread the stain further and deeper.

The holiday woman was kind and gracious,

but Mrs Finlayson could tell she was upset.

So you can guess what expression Mrs Finlayson made. Yep.

Lemony face.

Poor Murdo felt terrible and left the table without saying a word.

The holiday woman finished her soup. and when it was time to leave,

politely declared she'd had a delightful time.

But, as she shut the door, Mrs Finlayson said, "That's it,

"Murdo is only to have bread and butter in his room from now on."

What had she been thinking, inviting the holiday woman to lunch?

She was a penniless nobody

and penniless nobodies should remember their place.

An hour passed. The afternoon was marching to evening.

Still cross, she went back to the kitchen.

To her surprise, she found Maggie and Donald sitting at the table

with the broken pieces from Granpa's bowl and a small jar of glue.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Fixing Granpa's bowl," Maggie replied.

"I can see that. Why?!"

Maggie sighed. "We suppose that Granpa won't need it

"now you said he is only allowed bread and butter.

"But, one day, you'll be old like him and we will be, too,

"so we'll need the bowl for when our time comes."

Well, her daughter's wise words broke Mrs Finlayson's heart.

She began to cry.

She cried until wee Maggie came over and put her arms around her.

Then a funny thing happened. She began to laugh.

And Maggie laughed and Donald joined in

and they laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.

She went to Murdo and told him she was truly sorry

and she'd heat a fresh bowl of soup

and would be honoured if he'd join her at the table.

That's exactly what he did - that day and every day that followed.

Of course, he still spills some from time to time,

but a little soup on the tablecloth never hurt anyone.

As for the holiday woman,

she got most of the stain out of her jacket.

But on sunny days, Mrs Finlayson was sure

she could see the merest trace of green.

In the past, it would've filled her with shame.

But something had changed her that day

and the stain on the holiday woman's jacket,

well, it merely made her smile.

APPLAUSE

That was a lovely story, Peter, thank you.

-Now, Alistair and Jane, let's have another tune.

-Yes.

We all love the ceilidh stories and always want to hear more,

but Grannie always says the same thing, over and over again,

"Time for another tune."

And by the time the grown-ups have finished dancing,

we're usually fast asleep.