cods wrote on Aug 2^nd, 2016 at 8:52pm:


My aunty died last week in a tragic accident.

She was 70.

Now 70 sounds pretty old to me, but the truth is my aunty looked young and led a very active life. The only tablets she took were vitamins.

Anyway....

...

Neferti wrote on Aug 2^nd, 2016 at 9:08pm:


Well some of us had famous people as neighbours, uni lecturers, fellow students and work colleagues.

We can't help it that these people were famous or that they were just there....in our lives 

cods wrote on Aug 2^nd, 2016 at 9:12pm:


Yes, you are Cods .... I'd know you anywhere by the tiara. 

Well done ... you have friends and neighbours who are equal to you ... there is no need to expand on who lives next door and to call them "famous", otherwise you are belittling yourself. 

I have met and know many well-known people  ...  dropping names is NOT a great way to keep friends. 

Neferti wrote on Aug 2^nd, 2016 at 9:08pm:


Have to agree with this.

Back in the 90s, I ended up in a lift with Nick Greiner quite a few times.  The conversation, when there was one, never went beyond saying good morning or afternoon though.

On a more interesting note, around 1970 or so, I attended Gaelic classes in St Stephen's Church in Sydney that were organised by a long defunct Scottish society.  There were not a lot of us - we started with about a dozen but the numbers slowly dwindled and the classes ceased after two years.  Included in our group were John Douglas Pringle, a former editor of the Sydney Morning Herald, and the poet Les Murray, two very interesting people.

When the man who gave the classes passed away, Les Murray wrote a poem about him, the "Elegy for Angus Macdonald of Cnoclinn”.  Angus Macdonald was almost certainly the last fully-trained seanachaidh (or, in its Anglicised spelling, shenachie).  A Seanachaidh combined the roles of genealogist, historian, documenter of events and agreements, and a holder of the poems, literature and folk tales, all committed to memory.