In a Hurry

Come on! said Baby Pierre. Pack your book and your biscuits and let's get going. You promised we'd set off this morning.

What? said Ageless. Yes, yes. Give me a minute. What was it now? Ahh, Lavender is missing that's what. We should look for her first.

No we shouldn't, said Baby Pierre. We should get on the road. This is our quest, not hers.

Bad boy, said Ageless. What will Kobo say if you lose your cousin?

She won't even notice, said Baby Pierre.

He went to the window and looked out.

Whoooo! he said.

What now? said Ageless testily.

That statue! said Baby Pierre. The Frenchman. Robert something. It's gone. Or nearly gone. There's only his boots!

Scotsman, said Ageless. There is a difference. Only his boots, you say? Well let's hope young Lavender had nothing to do with it. Alright, I'm ready, let's go.

Hurrah! said Baby Pierre.

And together they set off on their quest.

.....

To find out what happened to Robert Burns we must now go back to the previous evening. After Lavender had left him, he had felt somewhat useless.

Why shouldn't I go with her to Henley? he asked himself. I may be made o' stone, but so is she.

And with a tremendous effort he wrenched himself out of his stone boots.

It took him quite some time to catch up with Lavender.

Rabbie! What happened to your legs? she cried.

Och lassie, said Rabbie. I was unmindful that I had no legs to speak of below ma knees. 'Tis uncomfortable let me tell ye.

Lavender made a sympathetic face, but secretly she felt elated. She was the cause of Rabbie being painfully shortened. She was as dangerous as Ageless!

Are you coming with me to Henley, Rabbie? she said.

Aye, that I am, said Rabbie. But 'twill be a slow journey with these legs o' mine.

Oh no it won't, said Lavender. We've got to get there before the others. Just grit your teeth and hurry up. Which way do we go?

The Hungarrian

This morning the phone rings.

Hello, I say.

Helloo lassie, says a male voice. Ah want ye to know, ah'm nae a Scotsman.

Oh, I say, you must be Bela Bartok. Yes, I know you're not Scottish.

Then, lassie, says the voice, may I ask why ye wrote yesterday that ye were conflummixt to discover that I was?

Well, Mr Bartok, I was listening to your Rhapsody No 1 for violin and piano yesterday, and I couldn't help noticing how much it sounded like Coming Thro' the Rye.

Niver heerd on it. Ah'm Hungarrian, ye ken. How's it go?

I sing, in a high pitched Scottish accent: Gin a body meet a body, Comin thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?

Noo, Ah dinna ken it. An' ye say, ma Rhapsody soonds like tha'? 'Tis like a bletherin' cat waulin'.

That's just my singing, I say.

Listen to this, lassie, says Bela. And tell me if ye still ween 'tis Scots.

He starts humming his Rhapsody, squeakily. I want to sing along, but I resist.

Perhaps it is a little different, I say.

Tha's alright, ah forgive ye, says Bela. Just ye mind, ther's muckle difference atween a Scotsman an' a Hungarrian.