I’m Beggin’ of You Please Don’t Take My Man
Graceland. Little known fact:Named after previous owners Grace and Lando Fuffkin
For about five minutes last week Meeester and I entertained the thought of moving house. We even did a slow drive by of a house on sale in not so nearby Fyvie. By the time we’d driven by, we decided that we’re happy where we are. At least we’re not unhappy enough to move to Fyvie.
Some hours later we both admit what really bothered us about our quick not-quite-stop-off to the village featured in the famous party piece of old codgers everywhere, The Bonnie Lass O’ Fyvie-o! (You’ve got to add an –“o!” to all folk songs, it’s the folk song law. There’s never a “Bonnie Lassie”, she’s always a “Bonnie Lassie-o!”; you’re never alive but you’re “Alive-alive-oh!” You know the kind of thing. )
No, it’s not the village itself -OK it is a wee bit, it’s a horse short of being a one horse town. It’s not even the house in question -OK it is a wee bit, Meeester didn’t like it, but if I liked it enough I could’ve strong armed him like I did into the whole living together, getting a job, getting married and having kids thing. Easy. No it was the house next door. Specifically, the name of the house next door.
The house was called Johlene. The name stood brazenly in big mirrored letters reflecting the entire village back. Clearly someone called John and someone called Arlene or Carlene or Sharlene had decided to proclaim their union to the world by Frankensteiningly forcing their names together into one like a big bastard hybrid monster. We both clocked it, we both stored it and we both dwelt upon it silently until some hours later.
“Did you see that house?”
“You mean Johlene?”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
“I don’t want to live in Fyvie-o.”
“No, me neither, let’s just stay where we are.”
“Yes, let’s just stay in The House of the Flying Martinis. Let’s just sit tight.”
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