People love to read tales, stories and myths relating to a community they know. Usually, these are legendary anecdotes from the dim and distant past, when folk are presented as having been much more interesting and remarkable things - it seems - happened daily. I would like to suggest, however, that unusual and absolutely unbelievable events still occur, involving some of the warmest, most outrageous and generally likable characters at least on a par with the heroes of old. In support of my argument I would like to introduce `The Witness', being the person who was actually there when the event took place and who can relate the original story. Usually when the tale is retold the response is either disbelief or laughter and the desire to tell the next person. Other criteria for the advancement of `The Folk Tale' includes: mutual knowledge of characters, situation and topography. These requirements are easily met on Coll where, being a small island with a small population, it is safe to say that the characters and locations in the story will be known to most people.
Now to this `Witness'. There is a person, who shall remain anonymous, who seems to turn up at the scene or just happens to be there. After reading on, most of you will recognise this figure. Some of the examples of `The Modern Folk Tale' I propose to set down will name the participants and I hope no offence or litigation will be taken.
The witness, who I shall call Mr. X (there's a clue!), has contributed to the cultural and historical heritage of Coll by being a `fly on the wall' in the following examples of the `genre'.
Tale No. 1:
One day, cold and windy, X and I were standing on the pier watching the boat tie up. Some livestock were due to embark that day including a particularly strong looking Aberdeen Angus bull belonging to Mr. Stewart. Frank Anderson, at that time, worked for the Laird and was leading the bull down the pier on a halter. Suddenly, the bull took off at a brisk gallop. Frank, to his credit, got the beast in an armlock and eventually brought it to a halt. I stood there amazed at this feat of strength and turned to `X'. "I wonder what made the bull do that just after it passed us."
"Perhaps it had something to do with the fact of me poking this stick up it's ***** (backside)" he replied blandly.
We continued to stare at the scene imagining Frank as a future prop forward for Scotland ...
"Which is which?" I asked as we watched the two figures now quietly strolling on to the ramp.
"Frank's the one without the halter on!" X replied, as we turned away...

Tale No. 2: This story concerns one of Coll's most colourful and best loved citizens who is still sadly missed by people all over the West Coast and beyond, Alastair Oliphant, Kevin's father.
Alastair was a very dapper dresser and with his silver grey hair and beard, cut quite a dashing figure. A trimness associated with youth had, however, eluded him and he advocated the `belt above the stomach method' of supporting his trousers. One quiet day as Coll went about it's business, `X' was going about his normal business leaning on the bar of the Coll Hotel. Strangely, no other person occupied this `Hallowed Ground' and as is often the case, people missed a treat.
Alastair, as was his way, was humming some ditty to himself when a young lady entered the bar. Alastair drew himself up to his full height, took a deep breath to create a slimmer waistline, causing his trousers, in one quick movement, to fall round his ankles. `X' noticed Alastair's embarrassment and in an historic movement, quietly placed his pint on the bar and slipped out with a look on his face like someone who had just seen the Loch Ness Monster! What happened to the young lady, was never discovered though rumours spread that she joined an obscure order of nuns ...
`X' told me that, having seen `the Light', he gave up `the Heavy' for a while but happily his condition improved. Time is a great healer...

Tale No. 3:
Catriona Brodie's mother and father, Margaret and Jimmy, held a special place in Coll society. Margaret almost became a regal presence and we her courtiers. She never held back from telling what she thought of you, and was honest and straight. Jimmy tended to stay in the background, being gentle and quiet but with a great sense of humour. An instance of this was when Jimmy worked for the Laird and asked the men to bury a cow just before finishing time one night. The boys found a spot which proved difficult to get the depth required to cover the cow completely. Eventually, they finished the job and went home. The next morning Jimmy, who had been inspecting the site, visited the men at work. "At least I've got somewhere to hang my cap on now," was his comment. They had buried the cow alright, but had left the horns sticking out of the ground!
On another occasion, Jimmy and Margaret were travelling west, back to Glendyke, in their old car giving `X' a lift in the process. "Slow down Jimmy!" Margaret demanded. (Jimmy was driving over her permitted speed limit of 20mph.) but Jimmy was in a particularly rebellious mood that day and increased speed a fraction! "Jimmy!" came the cry from the passenger seat and `X' sitting behind, began to feel a brooding sense of danger in the air, akin to what the Light Brigade felt at Balaclava before charging into the fire of the Russian guns.
"Jimmy, if you don't slow down, I'll break these eggs over your head!" exclaimed Margaret, reaching into her shopping backet.
`X' by now was at the point of no return; even at this speed he couldn't leap out of the moving car. Could he stop Margaret? He only considered this for a moment, there was a limit to bravery after all!
Jimmy continued to career down the road at speed and the inevitable happened. Margaret broke the first egg over Jimmy's head.
At last `X' was able to leave the car safely when his destination was reached. As the car drove off he felt relieved his ordeal was over. Smiling to himself he mused, "They certainly won't be having omelettes for tea anyway ..."
There are many more stories of the recent past and, for that matter, the present which are worthy of a place in our `folk culture'.

Many thanks to the families of those mentioned for their permission to publish.
And thank you Mr. `X' (signed photographs avallable at £250)