The Gospel according to St.Martin

You should be very careful what you tell children.

Rachel, my eldest stepdaughter, was round here on Saturday afternoon, ‘experimenting‘ on my wife (she was putting some lowlights, or something, into Jane‘s hair - yes, it looks lovely Rachel).

She turned to me, “What have you been telling Jordan?!” (Jordan is her 8 year-old son, my grandson).

“Um….” (There were lots of things, but I kept quiet until I knew what she was referring to), “Nothing…” (giving her my most innocent expression) “Why?”

She then explained that they were driving back from Forres when Jordan pointed at ‘The Bervie Chipper’ (an excellent fish & chip shop) and said “The Queen goes there.”

“Pardon?”

“The Queen goes there for her fish and chips.”

“Who told you that?!”

“Grandad Martin.”

“Well, you shouldn’t believe everything that Grandad Martin tells you.”

(‘You shouldn’t believe anything that Grandad Martin tells you’ would have been better advice.)

“Ah… well… um… Well, he wanted to know why it advertises itself as ‘The Famous Bervie Chipper’, and I didn’t know.”

“So you told him The Queen goes there?”

“Well… I don’t know why it is ‘famous’, so I told him that Tom Cruise often goes there, but he didn’t seem to know who Tom Cruise is, so I told him The Queen goes there.”

So now Rachel is worried that Jordan has been perpetuating my tale at school, thus giving him an undeserved reputation as something of a ‘whopper-teller’.

I could weakly protest that it is not my fault that he believes what I tell him, but it is….

A couple of years ago Jane and I were looking after Jordan and his little sister, Charlie. At the time we lived in Glen Urquhart, a picturesque glen that extends west from the shores of Loch Ness. We thought, as it was such a nice day, they would enjoy a drive further up the glen, in the hope of seeing some wildlife. Deer and birds of prey (including Golden Eagles) are numerous, so we were confident of seeing something to interest them.

Incredibly, just as we were telling them to look out for eagles, one swooped past. To further fuel their enthusiasm, I got a little carried away and said that, if they looked closely, they might even see a bear in the woods. Jordan was dubious. “There aren’t any bears,” he challenged.

“Yes, there are…”, I replied, just as we passed a ‘falling rocks’ warning sign (see above picture), “…Look! That sign is warning us about falling bear poo!”

“No!….” (but I could tell he was unsure)

“Yes! Ask Granny Jane where bears poo.”

“Granny Jane, where do bears poo?”

“In the woods.”

Q.E.D.

Hence, with the eagle appearing on demand, and Granny Jane confirming that bears do indeed poo in the woods, Jordan now seems to take everything I say as gospel.