THE ODD ANGLE

Auckland Star, Volume LXXV, Issue 153, 30 June 1944, Page 4

THE ODD ANGLE

By MacCLURE

• SEDDON WAS HALF A SCOT

j In case any of you noticed th; I this column did not appear last wee q I hasten to explain that, Thursds last being the anniversary of th birth of Seddon (the 99th), a frier r S of mine, one Mac Lean, having di ® covered that Seddon was at lea: ' half-Scottish (on his mother's side asked us up to Whangarei to cell > brate the occasion. It was the firs 0 I had heard of King Dick's connei tion with Scotland, but Mac Lean wa correct. "Och, Ah ought tae know, ,® he told me with a smile. "Ma wife 1 '1 gran'father lived near the Seddon s up on Eccleston Hill, which as ye', y nae doot ken, is near th' ootskirts c e St. Helens, in Lancashire. Seddon' r mither was a Lindsay frae Annar e in Dumfriesshire, the descendant o farming folks, and she was mistres o' th' denominational school at whicl y her auld faither was a pupil—Jeai e Lindsay she was. Seddon's faithe > was the headmaister o' th' Ecclestoi s Hill Grammar School and he, toe 1 cam' frae an auld farming stock, an< 1 when they married they raised sevei 1 o' a family, Seddon being the secon( ■ child. Next year wull be the centenary *ary o' his birth an' ye must com< 3 along." We promised. "Will you b< ' ■.asking Peter?" I asked. "Maybe,' 5 he replied. > ® CARLYLE AND i ECCLEFECHAN - Mac Lean's mention of Annan swit j ched me right back over the years [ to a dreadful night spent in a troop : train on the Scottish border as an 1 unwitting accomplice of—"a German I spy," and once again I had that terrifying vision of facing a firing squad . in the Tower of London. It was this way: We were on our final leave; a few brief weeks and we would be on the ocean homeward-bound for Enzed, France but a memory. As we boarded that Glasgow-bound trooptrain in London I had promised myself I would alight at the Scottish border and, after making a pilgrimage to Ecclefechan, to Carlyle's birthplace, I would take a run around to Annan where the dour Scottish philosopher attended—and later— taught school. Then (or so I. told myself) I would leisurely visit Dumfries with all its treasured memories of Burns. Burns himself, as an exciseman, had officially visited Annan, for the Solway Firth provided many an opportunity for smuggling. But—"Man proposes ", and, as the Scottish Bard phrases it, "Th' schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley." At Crewe I met the Aussie, and later, as he fingered my souvenirs a Hun field cap took his fancy. "D'you know. Mac, with this on I'll bet you couldn't tell me from a dinkum Hun," he said, placing it on his head. It was at this precise moment grim tragedy stalked in and upset my itinerary. ® THE MAN FROM WOOLLOOMOOLOO Hardly had he dene so when in stepped several Scots Kitchener Army lads. Seeing the supposed Hun, their mouths opened wide and in two ticks they were on him. Forcing them back, I explained that he was in my custody, and, to the accompaniment of a guttural remark or two from the Aussie, gave them a detailed account of how I had tracked him down, revealing to them the Aussie's own pay book and pass as proof of the "Hun's" thoroughness. The news spread like wildfire through the crowded troop train, and everyone craved for one little piece of "the That Aussie was a born actcr. He snarled while everyone congratulated me, and expressed their eagerness to be "in the firing squad." They called him bad names and commented freely on his low appearance. At Carlisle the Chief Constable visited our compartment and heartily congratulated me on capturing "the vermin." At Gretna Green, however, after four hours of it, the Aussie suddenly remembered the flask.of whisky in his pocket and essayed a quick gulp. It was then that swift tragedy overtook wnat had till now (to us) been only a gag. The Scots laddies pulled the flask from "the " and a wrathful Aussie from Woolloomooloo sprang into action and cleaned up six; of them at one fell stroke. But vye had reckoned without their many comrades. "Ye'll nae get awa' wi it," those Scots yelled. We did, though. As the train slowed down at Motherwell we made a jump for it, and a full-strength Scottish mist blotted us out. On hands and knees we crawled into Glasgow in time to find the morning papers full of the story of "an escaped Hun spy and an accomplice." And all that day as we furtively crept about Sauci.lall Street avoiding prying eyes * ~ ® score of bullets from ' i firing squad in the Tower lodge in 5 ny brain, and as I died I saw again ' hat Aussie in Action. Back in Lon- 1 lon Clutha Mackenzie would have i vl ,1 te my experiences for the I SI.Z.E.F. Chronicle, but all I wanted < vas to forget. *

® NO ROOM FOB SEDDON But I've got well away from the Mac Lean gathering; sufficient to say that, being a Mac Lean gathering it was exactly what you would have expected it to be. Seddon wasn't mentioned the whole evening. In a hall filled with reminders of the Mac Lean glory and resounding with pibrochs and laments for departed Mac Leans we listened to the singing of that pathetic ballad "Mac Lean" by a Mac Lean lady. Like many another Scottish ballad, it was a ballad of ( the 45," and, with the singer we "trod the heath-bell at mcrn"' and watched the claymores flashing on Morven's dark heath, the while the war pipes were starting up and numerous Mac Leans, singly and in battalions, gave us liberally of quicksteps, reels and pibrochs. "Hector Mac Leans Warning" was followed by John MacLcan's Strathspey" and a lament for, I think, Mac Lean of Ardgour. Next came another lament, this time for Sir Lachlan Mac Lean, after which came another for Hector Roy Mac Lean of the Battles. This was the signal for that famous pibroch, "Mac Lean of Coll Putting His Foot on the Neck of His Enemy' (don't ask me to give vou its Gaelic title, please), after which nu- £ a d some more laments, the Chief's Salute, the Clan's tion Quickstep, the Mac Lean's BlueRibbon, three separate "Mac Lean's Gathering" and—but you probablv know the whole Mac Lean routine As I said, there wasn't one moment left to squeeze in Richard John Sed3on. Aye, but it was a grand nicht ye ken. '