Neillie John MacLean was, above all, a great character and his sad, premature death a few years ago was a reminder (if one were needed) of the value of such individuals. Undoubtedly, Coll must always have had its fair share of such personalities, but few can have made more impact upon a community than Neillie John as the source of amusing tales and as a constant topic for discussion. Such was his personality that today he is talked about almost as much and the numerous tales of his doings remain to delight us. Many of them will surely become legendary stories of Coll.

The following short recollection as told by his friends is intended as a tribute to Neillie - crofter, postman, ferryman and lobster fisherman.

Neillie John was never less than thoughtful in looking after his ageing mother and took special pride in returning home with a gift for her from his occasional visits to Mull or Oban. One summer morning arriving in good time for the Tobermory Games, he made at once for the butcher's shop where he purchased a quantity of liver - a present for his mother. This he placed in an inside pocket of his jacket. He was later discovered snoozing in the warm sun - his previously immaculate white shirt now heavily stained with blood. That it was not his own was not immediately apparent and such was the consternation there was almost a hunt for a murderer!

Conversation one evening:
H. McK. "How are you today Neillie?"
N. J.Mc.L. "I was very busy today"
H. McK. "Were you?"
N. J.Mc.L. "Yes, I was; I went in, I went out and I went in;"

A more precise description history does not relate!

One could not write of Neillie John without mention (I'm sure he would not have wished it otherwise) of the small matter that he was not totally averse to the occasional refreshment. It could be said that this was not an entirely irrelevant aspect of some of the more fruity accounts of his activities. Indeed, the byre behind the house - the home of Mullach the cow - became known as the Mullach bar!

Over a dram in the Mullach bar, unsuspecting visitors to Coll would be drawn into the web of one of Neillie's delightful ploys. He possessed an uncommonly gifted knack of securing help (at first, always most willing) for the more arduous tasks in the hayfield or lobster boat. He could sometimes be seen towards the end of a long day, glass in hand, a not too interested spectator. His assistants, by then, exhausted, but the richer for the experience, would stagger home with memories to be treasured! The entrance to a chicken run in the village was, one morning, secured with a ladder. Later that day the following conversation occured:

N. J.McL. (owner of cow) "What are you going to do about that cow?"

Owner of the ladder - "What cow?"

N. J.McL. "The one with the ladder"

Sure enough, quite unbelievably, there was the anxious cow, its head through the middle of the ladder, making its tortuous way through the village, hitting anything and everything in its path! The good people of Arinagour were agog with a mixture of concern and amusement. As the cow made off in the direction of the hotel with everyone diving for cover, a hacksaw was procured and brave men and true, inspired by Neillie John, cornered the poor beast and eventually relieved it of its burden. Unlike the ladder, the cow was none the worse for the experiencel

As your editor doesn't have a distinctive feminine name, 98% of those who wrote to her (sight unseen) assumed her to be male - well, "bosses" are, aren't they? To prevent any future misunderstanding here's a photo of your editor taken outside Nellie John's cottage wearing a war time gas-mask just unearthed from his loft - Did anyone ever see him wearing it?