Giggling in Galloway.

River Nith, Dumfries.

In the southwest of Scotland, Dumfries, known as the Queen of the South, is central to the Robert Burns story. The national poet spent his last five years here, working as an excise man. He died in 1796. It was during his time in Dumfries that Burns penned some of his most famous works.

The two inseparable couples have parked the motorhome, and are now walking along the White Sands on the bank of the River Nith in Dumfries;

‘Look at yon two eejits in front, Phemie, tryin’ tae look important. They’re as thick as two planks o’ wood, Phemie,’ Jessie was saying.

‘Aye they’re like a couple o’ planks, they’ve got sawdust for brains, Jessie,’ said Phemie.

‘Och, stop, Phemie, don’t make me laugh, ye know whit happens when I laugh,’ Jessie said.

‘It’s nice tae be doon at the seaside again, Jessie,’ said Phemie.

‘Phemie, we’re no’ doon at the seaside, we’re in Dumfries. Ye’re beginnin’ tae sound jist like that wee man o’ yours,’ said Jessie.

Jessie called out to the lads in front to stop for a moment;

‘Phemie an’ I are goin’ roon’ the charity shops, we’ll see the two o’ ye eejits in Burns’ Howff later,’ said Jessie.

Francie’s petted-lip was showing and Phemie reassured him, by saying;

‘They dae a nice steak pie there, Francie,’ she said, as she straightened his tie and patted him on the head.

Threave Castle.

The castle was built at the end of the thirteenth century by the powerful Archibald Douglas. His father James Douglas had been entrusted with taking Robert the Bruce’s heart to Jerusalem, but had been killed in Spain fighting the Moors. Bruce’s heart was brought back to Scotland and buried at Melrose Abbey.

The lads were sitting supping Guinness when the ladies arrived at the bar;

‘Ok, ye two, let’s go through tae the restaurant,’ said Jessie.

‘Och, I like this, Jessie, nice white table-cloths, tae,’ said Phemie

‘Aye, it gie’s the place a bit o’ class, Phemie,’ said Jessie.

The steak pies arrived at the table;

‘Could ye bring me broon sauce, hen?’ Josie asked the waitress.

The brown sauce arrived at the table;

‘I jist love broon sauce,’ said Josie, while shaking the plastic bottle.

There was a sound like a big Clydesdale horse blowing raspberries rearwards, as Josie applied the sauce, splurting the concoction all over the nice white table-covers;

‘Ye bliddy big stumour, Josie,’ said Jessie. ‘Noo look whit ye’ve done, whit a bliddy mess, ye big numpty,’ she said.

Francie could be heard giggling in the background.


Joe Sharp.

For the adventures of Francie and Josie, click here.

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