| |
A Short Tale
It was a dark dismal day as Donald John MacPhail was taken into the church yard.
"What had he done to deserve this, " we asked. "Och, I don't know, " said old Ian. "Decry me, he's only a boy of seventeen, " replied Duncan. Only two male offspring had ever been taken from the village at such a young age before.
Why did he leave to join THAT boat. We could have guessed this would happen, he was getting bigger and bolder with every passing week. Sooner or later something was bound to happen. And it did.
That is why most of his family and friends had gathered here in the kirk on a wet Wednesday at half past two.
Needless to say, as usual, someone was late, and then, just as the minister started the service, three of DJ's cousins came through the door. (No one had seen them since Uncle Dougie's funeral).
The first hymn was an old family favourite, the only one Donald John had ever really liked, if the truth be known. Then a short prayer followed by the proper start of the service, as Auntie Agnes from Taynuilt might say.
"Do you, Donald John MacPhail, take this woman... "
N. Morrison |
