LOUDOUN valley
Memories
John McDonnell. (Ol' Ranter)
The Barony Bard
1910-1990
Ranter's life was mirrored in his poems; he had three books published under "Raploch Rhymes"
He spent his working life as a miner, but it was his travels that provided him with many topics for his verses, friends and aquantencies were also subjects for his poems.
Ranter was also famous for his letter writing, whoever he wrote to, it did not matter if it was a note to a business, organisation, and newspapers or to complain about something to a multinational company, they got the Ranter treatment. Ranter always wrote in verse, this type of letter writing mostly provoked the correspondent to return a letter in verse.
Ranter's travels took him to all corners of the Globe. When he was travelling to the likes of India, America, Canada and the USSR, this was when most people hadn't even ventured on to a plane to take their holidays in Spain. On his travels he also worked as a cowhand in North Dakota and as a miner when he was in Alberta Canada.
Ranter's interests were varied, and some of his hobbies were ballroom dancing, cycling, walking and playing his keyboards for all to hear. He also built a "butt n ben" in his garden where he buried his faithful dog "Largo"
In 1983 he fulfilled a long time ambition, with a hundred helpers they carried the memorial plaque to the top of Loudoun Hill, this to commemorate the famous Battle of Loudoun Hill. This project was planned and paid for by Ranter himself.
This unique man from Galston did not stop there; he was the self appointed World President of the Gire n Cleek. He related many tales of how he demonstrated his skills of the old toy in such places as a Jumbo Jet, when traveling to America and during the famous Calgary Stampede; he was pictured with his Gire n Cleek going through the Rocky Mountains. He tried to revive the sport at Galston gala days.
His local knowledge was always in demand for newspaper stories and television programmes.
Ranter enjoyed the simple pleasures of life and his humour comes out in his poems, and lets everybody that reads them see the funny side of things. This type of humour is sadly missed in this fast paced lifestyle that we belong to now.
John McDonnell was buried in Galston Cemetery on Wednesday 10th January 1990
A tale of two boys become famous men.
This story was first printed in New Zealand in a copy of "The Southland Daily News" Invercargill, dated Tuesday April 10th 1945.
Farm Boy and Long Arm of Coincidence
About a half-century ago, a young English boy on a visit to a rural community in Scotland set out to enjoy a swim in a small lake. He was seized with cramp while some distance from the shore. His cries for help were heard only by a farm boy working in a nearby field says an article in "Fortune."
The country lad plunged into the lake, towed the drowning swimmer to the shore and administered first aid. In a short time the visitor recovered and was able to return to his home in London. The farm boy continued to perform his daily toil.
Years passed before the two boys met again. This time the city youth came to the rural community to ask the farm boy who had saved his life what plans he had formulated for the future. When the youth frankly confided that his ambition had always been to study medicine, the youth from London revealed that he and his parents were ready, and in fact eager, to place at the young farmer's disposal the money he needed for his education.
More years passed. The farm boy attended a medical school, graduated with high honours, and embarked upon a career of scientific research. Eventually, in 1928, he made a discovery that was to save uncounted millions of lives. In his laboratory he found germs could not exist in certain vegetable moulds. He discovered penicillin.
The one-time farm boy had become Dr Alexander Fleming, Internationally known scientist and benefactor of mankind.
But what about the London youth whose life Fleming had saved and through whose financial assistance Fleming had been able to scale the heights he once had regarded as unattainable?
Well, that's a rather interesting, essential part of the story.
Last winter that Londoner was stricken with pneumonia while on an epochal journey to the Near East. He had gone thither to meet Franklin Delano Roosevelt of Washington D.C., and Joseph Stalin, of Moscow, U.S.S.R., for a series of important conferences.
The statesman's condition became alarming. Back in England the drug invented by the one-time farm boy was readied, then sped by 'plane to the sick man's bedside. Within a few hours the miracle producing penicillin had performed its mission, had added another illustrious name to the long list of those whose lives had been saved by its amazing properties. For the second time Alexander Fleming had saved the Londoner's life.
Yes, Winston Churchill was the boy who went swimming in that little rustic lake half a century later. This story looks like a fable, but then again, make up your own mind.
The Moving Finger
At the old council house at the cross Newmilns with its quant belfry. There goes a story from the lips of a magistrate, that when it was used as a seat of justice, the court at the top of the building and the cells below.
On one occasion an unwelcome guest had been dumped in the cells overnight awaiting his appearance before his betters, to be sentenced the next morning. We can skip the crime, as it was what was discovered on the cell walls that were of interest. He had scratched the following crude verse:
In the county of Ayr between two hills,
Stands the wee burgh Toon of Newmilns
It boasts of a steeple and a crackit bell,
Twa rotten Baillies and an auld gothic cell.
The light of poetic genius surely radiated throughout the auld gothic cell that time. Or did it?
I suppose it's all a matter of taste.
This story printed Friday April 6th 1945 (Irvine Valley News)
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