GHK News - The View from the First Man Over the Top

 

‘Get the chat up…’

 

“If you hear a voice within you saying, ''You are not a painter,'' then by all means paint… and that voice will be silenced.”

Vincent Willem van Gogh (1853-1890) Dutch post-Impressionist Painter with ginger imperial.

 

Men. Since this chastened scribe was a stripling, running on the plains of our greatest of games, Rugby Union, I have often been hounded by the cry from my brothers-in-arms to ‘Get the chat up’. Please allow me if you will, as I sit here amid the sweep of our conurbation, to wrestle with this perilous locution.

 

To often, those around us – at times the ones we care about most - din into us that our weaknesses on the field lie open for all to see; that we are a lightweight pack; that we are simple-minded; that we rely on a few or that our youth is in detriment to our high held goal. In days long passed, some amongst us eventually succumbed to this diametrical piffle. Some amongst us even broached this calculated rancor.

 

Men, they target the regiment from all sides - in printed pages, the away day clubhouses and the training paddocks of our nation. They cry that we Annieslanders, we free Annieslanders nourished on Alouetta and Fiona’s pies, hold out-moded ideas. However, my fellow companion, this is not the real point of the story. The real point - the shameful point - is that many of us are in danger of listening to them and they are weakening our voices.

 

I say that it is time for the great Men of this ensemble to raise its voice and cry out in mighty triumph what it is to be a player for GHK. I have played with a myriad of characters – the superannuated sub who comes on after 77 minutes and claims the prize, the weeble in ankle supports and a man who ultimately made it to The Barrel. The strongest of these Officers were able to find their voice in their own way. Some were vocal, the occasional few accepted more than their share of responsibility but many were driven by the voices in their head. Yet the ones I favoured most were the select few who could quietly decimate their opposing man with a burning desire for more and more confrontation without saying a word. Men, this week, I urge you all to rise and find your ‘voice’. Through this simple act there will be a deafening clamor from inside those coal-black railings at Anniesland Cross that no opposition can withstand.

 

Adjutant General Shambilton has been gazing at the wedding singer whilst The Prince has taken an intensive sashay in a Highland Park and is now a poster-boy for the marque. Well played The Prince. Standards.

 

The Regiment for tomorrow’s game against Cumbernauld at O.A, 3pm kick-off, is as follows: 


 

15 T. ‘Montserrat Caballe‘ Herron

14 G. ‘Franco Corelli‘ Hawkes

13 A. ‘Mario Del Monaco‘ Shedden

12 D. ‘Der Kaiser von Atlantis‘ Hoffman


11 R. ‘Candide’ Love

10. A ’Roza Csillag’ Fleming

9. A. ‘The Mask of Orpheus‘ Aird

1. C. ‘Lulu‘ Macphee

2. G. ‘The Nutcracker’ Reid

3. C. ‘Figaro! Figaro! Figaro! Ahimè, che furia! ‘ Mclay

4. A. ‘The Fairy Queen’ Drummond

5. H. ‘Joan Sutherland’ Parker

6. A. ‘Luciano Pavarotti‘ Tilston

7. M. ‘Placido Domingo‘ Borthwick

8. F. ‘ Jose Carreras’ Hay



16. T. ‘Birgit Nilsson’ Horton

17. G ‘La Wally‘ Woolard

18. D. ‘Feodor Chaliapan’ Campbell

 

Yours as always, running towards the gunfire. 11am Flying Scotsman. Pulling armpit hairs. Never wearing white boots. The need to pee at five to three.

 

Disco

 

Supporting Note: It is the Great Darcy’s 21st this week [Theme: Farmers and Milkmaids]. Happy Birthday Officer but please keep ‘Dorothy’ indoors and as far away from Stranrear with his camera as possible.

 

This article was posted on 24-Sep-2010, 09:38 by Hugh Barrow.