Sentence The Twohundredandeightyeighth
Sir Parlane MacFarlane welcomed his guests that same evening: the wine flowed freely and all were in a convivial humour, there was even no kerflooey from The Maister of Kilquhenny when Dominic and Angus of MacAngus (the Man of Angus MacAngus of Angus) who were both servants, joined the group at the Table; Marie Doubleday served the suckling pig and little Goldilocks led the other maids who provided sufficient food and drink for everyone to feel quite contented; then Sir Parlane
rose to his feet: “freens an neebours, ah bid ye welcome tae the Hoose o MacFarlane, on this auspicious date, when I propose that we jine thegither, in a Ring o Gouwd, an fer thon, am here presentin yes wi ane Gouwden Ring apiece, manufactured by ma Honest Freen, Sir Angus MacAngus, The MacAngus, the finest Gouwdsmith in aw Scotia; the design is by oor renoond freen an legal advisor, Advocate Mertin Elginbreed, wham oo aw cry Mertin, bein as hoo oor aw on guid freenly tairms, yin wi t'other; onyhoo, fergie me if ah expatiate ower lang fer yer lugs, but ye ken me, if am plyin knuckle-banes ah cannae but gie fer broke, it's aw or bust fer moi! Bit, hooane'er, it's high time ah donned ma sackcloth and daubed ma face wi ashes, in the time-honoured obeisance o a mon tae his mistress, an here, ah submit fer yer especial pleesher, the Dedicatee o oor Ring o Gouwd, ah preesent: The Fairest Wean up The High: she's nae strachtlaced, as ye'll see she's nae laced at aa, so ye'll kin rove aw ower her hills n dales, Bens n Glens, and demonstrate how thew yer mussels be, an extra specially thon michty, muckle organ ye keep tucket intae yer codpeece, Maister Kilquhenny, for ye've ridden this filly afore, am kennin, she's Mine so she's thine, in the Ring o Gouwd, we share oor Bounty, so here is Ma Darlin' Gouwdilocks (or as the Advocate wud say, an wha sez he's no richt? no me! 'Goldilocks'! enjiy yersels yin an aw and remember . . . . . .”
and the silence that followed his aposiopesis was so palpable that none dared break it, not even old Kilquhenny, nor young Goldilocks, but all simply sat or stood and stared at the immobilised figure of MacFarlane, seemingly turned to stone mid-sentence, mid-action, his mouth open, his left arm swung towards the wee lassie approaching the table, in all her cherubic sweetness and nothing else, his right paused in the raising of a goblet of wine to his lips, and it seemed that this tableau would persist until the end of time!
(Editor's Note: Due to an unfortunate and unconscionable lapse in consciousness on the part of Miss Somerville, which resulted in the lack of an entry yesterday, she hopes to redeem herself by this submission which takes the form of “Two for the price of One” or in common parlance: “BOGOF” the success of which it is left to the readers to decide)
Sir Parlane MacFarlane welcomed his guests that same evening: the wine flowed freely and all were in a convivial humour, there was even no kerflooey from The Maister of Kilquhenny when Dominic and Angus of MacAngus (the Man of Angus MacAngus of Angus) who were both servants, joined the group at the Table; Marie Doubleday served the suckling pig and little Goldilocks led the other maids who provided sufficient food and drink for everyone to feel quite contented; then Sir Parlane
rose to his feet: “freens an neebours, ah bid ye welcome tae the Hoose o MacFarlane, on this auspicious date, when I propose that we jine thegither, in a Ring o Gouwd, an fer thon, am here presentin yes wi ane Gouwden Ring apiece, manufactured by ma Honest Freen, Sir Angus MacAngus, The MacAngus, the finest Gouwdsmith in aw Scotia; the design is by oor renoond freen an legal advisor, Advocate Mertin Elginbreed, wham oo aw cry Mertin, bein as hoo oor aw on guid freenly tairms, yin wi t'other; onyhoo, fergie me if ah expatiate ower lang fer yer lugs, but ye ken me, if am plyin knuckle-banes ah cannae but gie fer broke, it's aw or bust fer moi! Bit, hooane'er, it's high time ah donned ma sackcloth and daubed ma face wi ashes, in the time-honoured obeisance o a mon tae his mistress, an here, ah submit fer yer especial pleesher, the Dedicatee o oor Ring o Gouwd, ah preesent: The Fairest Wean up The High: she's nae strachtlaced, as ye'll see she's nae laced at aa, so ye'll kin rove aw ower her hills n dales, Bens n Glens, and demonstrate how thew yer mussels be, an extra specially thon michty, muckle organ ye keep tucket intae yer codpeece, Maister Kilquhenny, for ye've ridden this filly afore, am kennin, she's Mine so she's thine, in the Ring o Gouwd, we share oor Bounty, so here is Ma Darlin' Gouwdilocks (or as the Advocate wud say, an wha sez he's no richt? no me! 'Goldilocks'! enjiy yersels yin an aw and remember . . . . . .” and the silence that followed his aposiopesis was so palpable that none dared break it, not even old Kilquhenny, nor young Goldilocks, but all simply sat or stood and stared at the immobilised figure of MacFarlane, seemingly turned to stone mid-sentence, mid-action, his mouth open, his left arm swung towards the wee lassie approaching the table, in all her cherubic sweetness and nothing else, his right paused in the raising of a goblet of wine to his lips, and it seemed that this tableau would persist until the end of time!(Editor's Note: Due to an unfortunate and unconscionable lapse in consciousness on the part of Miss Somerville, which resulted in the lack of an entry yesterday, she hopes to redeem herself by this submission which takes the form of “Two for the price of One” or in common parlance: “BOGOF” the success of which it is left to the readers to decide)
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