How Till Hooletgless Learned tae Fly

For years, people have relied on Till Hooletgless to save the day. To them he’s nothing short of a hero. But Till’s had enough of their haivers. And anyway he’s got better things to do with his time. Let Thomas Clark tell you more about this Scots maverick as he rides into Cadzow with tricks up his sleeve and a twinkle in his ee.

For mony years he’d been ridin aw aroond the toons and clachans o Scotland, playin pranks on the lairds and giein hauners tae the puir fowk. Sae when he troddled intae Cadzow on his wee dun mare that Monday morn, he’d awready made his mind up tae caw canny wi the cairry-on and settle doon – get himsel a job, mebbe, and a wee roof ower his heid.

“Ach, I’ve had a guid run,” Till said tae himsel, “But I cannae spend the rest o ma life gettin a chasin aff the Laird o This, or the High-Heid-Yin o That. Chitterin awa aw nicht in a stable, wi a paved stane for a pillae and ma ain breith for a bedsheet… Nah, that’s no the gemme for me.”
Till shook his heid and laughed tae himsel, thinkin o aw the fantoosh fowk he’d gied the rin-aroond ower the years, and his wee dun mare let oot a dulesome whinny.

“Och, I ken, pal! I’ll miss it tae. Richtin wrangs is a fine profession, but there’s nae money in it. It’s time tae find oorsels a job wi a wee bit mair tae it, eh. Somethin we can really get oor teeth intae.”