Dame Hilda: Good morning, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Hilda. Just in time for your kipper.

Dame Hilda: Oh, lovely, smells delicious, you know, you really do cook kippers to perfection, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, if I were asked to define the one thing that you excel at in the kitchen, I'd say kippers.

Dr. Hinge:  Thank you.

Dame Hilda: You have this gift of cooking them not too little and not too much, keeping them soft and moist, yet somehow adding to the flavour. Come on, dear, now, how do you do it?

Dr. Hinge: Well, I drop the plastic packet in a pan of boiling water.

Dame Hilda: Yes. Yes, well, you do it beautifully, Evadne, it's probably the way you hold your feet.

Dr. Hinge: Is mother still asleep?

Dame Hilda: I hardly think so, dear.

Dr. Hinge:  What do you mean?

Dame Hilda: She's snoring her head off.

Dr. Hinge: Well, then she must be asleep.

Dame Hilda: She couldn't possibly sleep through that noise.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I must admit it is rather vibrant.

Dame Hilda: Vibrant, do you know, at one point in the night, I'm sure I heard poor Milton fall off his perch?

Dr. Hinge: Really, Hilda, as long as I can remember, mother's been a heavy snorer.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, obviously that's where you get it from, dear.

Dr. Hinge: I beg your pardon, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: I said it's obviously hereditary, snoring, that's why you snore so loudly, because of your mother.

Dr. Hinge:  I do not snore, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Oh, you do, dear, in B flat, I've told you before, Evadne, as soon as you roll onto your back, it's like the Bishop Rock foghorn, when you leave your bedroom window open, I bet there are a dozen ships taking refuge in Yarmouth Harbour.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, how can you be so cruel?

Dame Hilda: It's only a joke, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I don't think it's funny, how would you like me to tease you about your gurgling stomach?

Dame Hilda: My what, dear?

Dr. Hinge: You know what I mean, your gurgling stomach, at the first signs of hunger, it's gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.

Dame Hilda: That's a perfectly normal bodily function.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, come off it, Hilda Bracket. I've known times when it's been like sitting in Jacques Cousteau's bathroom.

Dame Hilda: I never thought I'd hear you say such hurtful things, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, you keep off my snoring and I'll leave your stomach alone.

Dame Hilda:  Now, now, Evadne, you shouldn't be bickering, you should be rejoicing.

Dr. Hinge: Rejoicing, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Well, don't forget, your mother's going home tomorrow. Oh, yes.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, that's something to look forward to. You know, it seems like she's been here a fortnight.

Dame Hilda:  It is a fortnight, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, a long fortnight.

Dame Hilda: Yes, isn't it strange how some fortnights last a month? Anyway, we'll be sending her off in style tonight with our Scottish evening, organised by yours truly, Hilda McBracket.

Dr. Hinge: That reminds me, dear, Constable Bolsover phoned.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, good.

Dr. Hinge: For his contribution this evening, he intends to sing a duet.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, dear.

Dr. Hinge:  That's what I thought.

Dame Hilda: Well, as long as he sings it on his own.

Dr. Hinge: He wants to sing it with you, Hilda.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, does he? I'm flattered.

Dr. Hinge: McBracket and McBolsover in highland harmony.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it and hope he falls off.

Maureen: Ah, good morning, Hilda, morning, Mona.

Dame Hilda: Morning, Maureen.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, mother, and I do wish you would stop calling me Mona.

Maureen: You say that every time, Mona.

Dr. Hinge: I know, because my name is Evadne.

Maureen: You were christened Mona, Mona.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I've unchristened it.

Maureen: I refuse to call you Evadne, think of your Scots heritage, Mona.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, go and burn your sporran, mother.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I do feel that family gatherings bring out the best in people.

Maureen: Incidentally, Mona, you kept me awake all night with your snoring.

Dr. Hinge: I do not snore.

Dame Hilda: Of course you don't, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you, Hilda, now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do in the garden.

Dame Hilda: Certainly, dear, but don't fall asleep or you'll frighten the birds.

Dr. Hinge: Ooooh!

{Door slams!}

Maureen: I do wish she wasn't so quarrelsome, after all, I do have to go home tomorrow.

Dame Hilda: Good.

Maureen: What's that, dear?

Dame Hilda: I said good, I'm glad you enjoyed your visit.

Maureen: Oh, I did indeed.

Dame Hilda:  And we have a going away surprise for you, Maureen.

Maureen: It's not a large bottle of whisky, is it?

Dame Hilda:  No, we have organised a Scots evening at the village hall, in your honour.

Maureen: Oh, what a thoughtful gesture.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, yes, we intend to send you off in style, Maureen, everyone has pitched in, as it were, in fact, dear old Maud has even made a haggis, yes, I must ask her where our dishcloth went to.

{Door opens.}

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, I was just telling Maureen about Maud's haggis.

Dr. Hinge:  Fascinating.

Maureen: Of course, to be traditional, it should be piped into the hall.

Dame Hilda: Well, I'm afraid it won't be piped, the best thing we can do is have it tromboned. Sexton Tweddle, you see, he wants to do something Scottish with his trombone.

Dr. Hinge:  He could try tossing it in the river, anyway, I've just popped in to say that Constable Bolsover is heading this way.

Maureen: Now, I hope you haven't been doing anything naughty, Mona.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, mother!

Dame Hilda: It'll be about the duet, I'm afraid. You haven't met our village bobby, have you, Maureen?

Maureen:  No, I haven't.

Dr. Hinge:  The one-man flying squad.

Dame Hilda: Oh, he's on his bicycle, is he?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, dear.

Dame Hilda:  Dear George, such a dedicated man, do you know, Maureen, in the course of duty, he mixes with the criminal fraternity for five hours every night in the Red Lion, such devotion.

{Door knocks.}

Dr. Hinge: Come in, George, it's open.

Constable:  Morning, Hilda. Morning, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Morning, George.

Dame Hilda: Morning, George, may I introduce you to Maureen?

Constable: Oh, hello, is this your sister, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: You know very well it's my mother.

Constable: Oh, it is hard to believe someone who looks so young could be your mother.

Maureen: Oh, what a nice man. Oh, thank you, err... George.

Constable: Pleased to meet you, m’dear, I'm a member of the constabulary, you know.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I rather think your helmet gave her a little clue, George.

Constable: However, I'm not here on criminal business.

Dr. Hinge: I should hope not.

Constable: It's about the duet, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: I thought you said you weren't here on criminal business.

Constable: Well, Hilda, would it be convenient for us to have a quick rehearsal now?

Dr. Hinge:  Of course it is.

Dame Hilda: He was asking me, dear, and I'm afraid, George, I'm hopeless if I haven't any music to follow, and you haven't any music, have you?

Constable: Yes, in me saddlebag, I'll go and fetch it, be back in a jiffy.

Maureen: What a charming man, and so, so well built, you know, err...muscular, so very masculine, in a masculine sort of way.

Dame Hilda: I think we've got the picture, Maureen, I expect it's the uniform, he does wear his helmet at a very rakish angle.

Dr. Hinge:  Though the effect is rather spoilt by his carpet slippers.

Dame Hilda: Yes, he wears his corns with pride, dear.

Maureen:  You know, suddenly I'm rather saddened I'm leaving the village tomorrow.

Dr. Hinge: Hmm, I wonder why.

Constable: Here we are, Hilda, a bit dog-eared and tattered, I'm afraid.

Dame Hilda: I thought you were looking rather smart.

Constable: Now, here's the music.

Dame Hilda: Let me see. Ah, The bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond, very appropriate.

Constable: Ah, well, if I'd known Maureen was such an attractive lady, I'd have brought Will ye no come back again!

Maureen: Oh, George, you flatterer.

Dr. Hinge:  Doesn't it make you sick?

Dame Hilda: Well, come on, Evadne, hitch up your kilt and let's try the chorus.

Oh, ye’ll take the high road

And I'll take the low road

Dame Hilda:  I think we'll have to change carriageways, George, can we start again, dear.

Ye’ll take the high road

And I'll take the low road

And I'll be in Scotland afore ye

For me and my true love

We'll never walk again

On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

Dame Hilda: Very good, George, I didn't know you knew a shortcut.

Constable: There is more, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: No, no, no, no, that's quite long enough, George.

Maureen: What a manly voice you have, George.

Constable: Oh, thank you, m’dear.

Maureen: I do like a man with a manly voice. Have you thought of having lessons, George?

Dame Hilda:  No, no, no, he's far too busy with his allotment.

Constable: You know, Maureen, it is a shame you're going home tomorrow.

Maureen: Just what I was thinking, George.

Constable: See, it's my birthday next week and I'm having a little party on Saturday, oh, would have been very nice if you could have graced it with your presence.

Maureen: Well, come to think of it, I don't really have to go home tomorrow, do I, Hilda?

Dame Hilda:  Oh, well, but you do, you do, doesn't she, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, of course she does, you do, mother.

Maureen: But why?

Dame Hilda: Well, because, um... because, um… Evadne why?

Dr. Hinge: Well, because, um... because your train goes tomorrow, mother.

Constable: Ah, but surely, surely there'll be another train next week.

Dame Hilda: Well, we don't know for certain, do we? I mean, there's all this talk about closing the station.

Constable: Well, that was 20 years ago, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but they're still talking, and I wish you wouldn't.

Maureen: You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?

Dame Hilda: Oh, goodness me, not at all, no, that's the last thing we want to do, isn't it, Evadne?...
isn't it, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, Hilda.

Maureen: Well, that's settled, then, I'll stay another week.

Constable: Oh, splendid, isn't that good news, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, yes, wonderful, yes, we were going to suggest it ourselves, but George put his foot, er... beat us to it.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, will you come into the kitchen with me and help me make a pot of tea?

Dame Hilda: Can't you manage on your own, dear?

Dr. Hinge: No, you know how frightened I am of the electric kettle.

Dame Hilda: I didn't know that, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Well, I am and you must help me.

Dame Hilda: Are you all right, Evadne, are you sure you're all right? Your left eye is twitching.

Dr. Hinge:  Hilda, will you come into the kitchen with me?

Dame Hilda: What? Oh, yes, yes, of course I will, dear, yes, please excuse us, I'm going to help Evadne make a pot of tea.

Constable: Well, no tea for me, Hilda, I must be on my way.

Dr. Hinge: No, no, you stay and talk to mother.

Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, you stay and talk to Maureen.

Maureen: Yes, yes, you stay and talk to me, George.

Constable: Oh, right, then I'll stay and talk to you, Maureen.

Dame Hilda: Now, what shall we all talk about?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, in the kitchen.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, yes, the kitchen, right, well, we won't be long.

{Kitchen.}

Dame Hilda: So, er... you can start talking now.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what are we going to do?

Dame Hilda: Put the kettle on.

Dr. Hinge:  About mother, Hilda, I'm warning you, if she doesn't go, I will.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, you do present me with some awkward decisions.

Dr. Hinge:  Oh, Hilda, be serious.

Dame Hilda: Very well, then, let's think about it.

Dr. Hinge: It's all George's fault, mother's like this with anyone in uniform.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, I remember now, wasn't there something about a bus conductor in Glasgow?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, and a traffic warden in Aberdeen.

Dame Hilda: I thought that was you, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda! Look, the problem is how to get rid of her, now, this calls for a Sherlock Holmes plot.

Dame Hilda: You're not going to drown her, are you, dear?

Dr. Hinge: No, no, I have an idea, you see, one of us will phone from the village phone box and pretend to be a friend of mother's housekeeper.

Dame Hilda: Hmm, excellent, and what does this friend of your mother's housekeeper say?

Dr. Hinge: You'll think of something, Hilda, off you go.

Dame Hilda: Just a moment, dear, why don't you go?

Dr. Hinge: Mother will recognise my voice straight away, your voice is different on the phone, it's so rough.

Dame Hilda: Thank you.

Dr. Hinge:  And you're a better actress than I am.

Dame Hilda: Yes, you've been looking at my press cuttings, haven't you, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Anyway, dear, go out of the back door and think of something that will make mother want to go home.

Dame Hilda: Leave it to me, Evadne, I'll put a handkerchief over the phone like they do in the films.

Dr. Hinge: Anything, Hilda, and good luck, I'll go back to mother and George.

{Drawing room.}

Maureen: Ah, there you are, Mona, I must say that George is a most interesting gentleman.

Constable: Oh, thank you, Maureen.

Maureen: I really am looking forward to his birthday party next week.

Dr. Hinge:  Lovely.

Maureen: Now then, Mona, where's that pot of tea?

Dr. Hinge: What tea?

Maureen: The tea that you and Hilda went in the kitchen to make.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, that tea? Well, um... she's run out, we've run out of tea, Hilda's gone to fetch some from the shop.

Constable: Oh, well, afraid I can't wait, duty calls, I have one or two things to look into.

Dr. Hinge: Like a pint glass?

Constable: Yes, no! Official police business, I'll see you this evening, ladies.

Maureen: Are you going back to the police station, George?

Constable: Oh, I am indeed, m’dear.

Maureen: Well, I wouldn't mind a stroll to the village.

Dr. Hinge:  Oh, no, Mother, no, no, you can't, you mustn't.

Maureen:  Why ever not, Mona?

Dr. Hinge:  It's raining.

Maureen: It isn't raining.

Dr. Hinge: No, the sun is shining, and that's a bad sign, it means the phone might ring, I mean, the sun might shine, I mean, the rain might...

{Phone rings.}

Dr. Hinge: I wonder who that can be. Hello, Stackton 295?... Who? Oh, yes, yes, she's here. it's for you, mother.

Constable: Well, I'll be off, ladies, see you later at the concert, Maureen.

Maureen: Most certainly, George.

Constable: I'll see meself out.

Dr. Hinge: It's someone with a Scottish accent, mother.

Maureen: Oh, hello?

Dame Hilda: Oh, hello... Eh... Maureen, och aye...

Maureen: Who's that speaking?

Dame Hilda: Eh... I'm a friend of old Mrs. McDougal,

Maureen:  Well, I don't know an old Mrs. McDougal.

Dame Hilda:  Ach, well, eh... who's the old lady you do know, then?

Maureen: Well, there's old Mrs. MacTavish.

Dame Hilda:  Aye, that's her, that's her, she just told me.

Maureen: But she died last year.

Dame Hilda: Oh, jings, no, no, no, no, the other one, och aye.

Maureen: You mean old Mrs. McDougal?

Dame Hilda: Aye, aye, aye, that's the one, yes, I knew it was Mac something or other.

Maureen: Could you please speak up? It's a bad line, it sounds as though you're talking through a handkerchief.

Dame Hilda: Aye, well, it's probably the mist in the mountains, you see, but no, the thing is, Mrs. MacDonald has asked me to tell you to come home as quickly as possible.

Maureen: Why, what's happened?

Dame Hilda: Oh, well, jings, it's terrible news, prepare yourself for a wee shock, dear, it's all over the village, you see, it's like this, that we're... arrgh!

Maureen: Hello? Hello? Oh, dear, look, are you there? Oh, dear!

Dr. Hinge: What's the matter, mother?

Maureen: Oh, something terrible, I don't know what it is, but something dreadful’s happened in the village, I shall have to take the first train tomorrow.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, dear, do you have to? The first one's quarter past six.

Constable: I'm sorry to bother you again, but I left me bicycle clips.

Maureen: Oh, George, I'll not be able to come to your party next week, I've just received bad news from home.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, George doesn't want to be bothered about that, mother, here you are, George, they were in the chair.

Constable: Oh, thank you, Evadne, I’ve just had a funny experience.

Dr. Hinge: So have we, George.

Constable: I could have sworn I saw Hilda in the phone box down the lane.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, goodbye, George.

Maureen:  Are you sure, George?

Constable: I looked very much like her.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, it may have been her, you see, she, er... she cleans it out once a week.

Constable: I, er... I didn't know that.

Dr. Hinge: No, not a lot of people do, she only started recently, these boxes get so filthy, you know.

Constable: Oh, I do know, Evadne, it was only yesterday I caught one of the village kids putting boot polish on the earpiece.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, er, goodbye again, George.

Constable: Oh, yes, well, I'll see you later.

Maureen: Yes, I'm terribly worried, Mona, I wonder what the trouble could be.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, I wouldn't worry too much, just go home and find out. Ah, Hilda, did you get a packet of tea?

Dame Hilda: Pardon, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Tea, the tea you went to the shop for?

Dame Hilda: Oh, that tea, yes, of course I did.

Dr. Hinge: Er... Hilda, mother's got some terrible news for us.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, you prefer coffee?

Maureen:  I shall have to return home as originally planned, you see, Hilda…?

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear?

Maureen: Why is your ear all black?

{Church hall.}

Dame Hilda: Thank you, Sidney Grapple, for your excellent impression of Sean Connery. I believe the KGB are waiting outside, dear., ha, ha, ha! That's a compliment. Now, our old friend Sexton Tweddle has brought along his trombone, and in keeping with the spirit of the concert, he has tied a sprig of heather to the slide, well done, Sexton.

Dr. Hinge: Ridiculous.

Dame Hilda: Perhaps he thinks it will bring him luck and he'll hit the right notes. So, ladies and gentlemen, Sexton Tweddle with Scotland the Brave.

{ Scotland the Brave, plays badly.}

Dame Hilda:  Thank you, thank you, Sexton Tweddle, for...er... for Scotland the Brave, brave, indeed.

Dr. Hinge: And so were we.

Dame Hilda:  All right, Maureen?

Maureen:  Yes, thank you, I'll have another whisky, please.

Dame Hilda: Yes. Well, now. Miss Primley, headmistress of Stackton Girls High, has once again put pen to paper, and as usual, she has asked me to read her poem, which is entitled, North of the Border, down Sauchiehall way. I will, of course, on this occasion, be accompanied by Stackton Tressel's own Jimmy Shand, Dr Evadne Hinge.

{Piano plays.}

Scotland, Scotland, praise to thee

Bounteous born of bluebells

And baps and buttered bannocks,

Oh, land where every tartan Scot

Boasts of his Grampians.

Of which the tall Ben Nevis is the king

And down whose slopes the streams of porridge dance

Oh, Bonny Doon, upon thy banks and braes

The haggis builds its nest

With greeting call he serenades

His bonnie lassie in the glen

Och aye, och aye, och aye.

Maureen: Och aye! Make it a large one this time.

Hail to Caledonia

Fount of famous figures

In their chequered history

Of Charlie, Bonny Prince

And Robert Bruce

James Watt and Robert Burns

Livingstone, and Stevenson,

Jock Stein, and Moira Anderson.

Harry Lauder, a Scottish knight,

With swirling, twirling, curling kilt

And stop your tickling Jock

Oh, bloody scenes of battles bold

Of Preston Pans and Bannockburn

And Hampden Park and Ibrox

Salute, salute to Scotia

Where the flying crummocks play

And a mickle macs muckle in the heather, 

Ballachulish, Kirkcudbright

Clackmannan, Ecclefechan

Four far four and east fife five,

And that's our next attack.

Monarch of the glen and highland cattle,

Stag at bay.

A booby cries a woebegone farewell,

And bagpipes skirl a pibroch in the Trossachs

Oh, Scotland, I will love thee

Till whisky stills gang dry

We sleekit timorous beastie

It's a moonlicht nicht the nicht. Olé!

Dame Hilda: Yes, all very moving.

Dr. Hinge:  And so are some of the audience, dear.

Maureen: That's my wee girl! I think this calls for another drink.

Dame Hilda: Now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid the vicar is unable to entertain us with his card tricks, because he sprained his wrist, attempting a triple bob on the bell rope, whatever that is. So we come to the end of our show with our personal tribute to our Scottish visitor, dear, Maureen, who I'm sure by now is rather homesick, yes, and anxious to leave for Scotland.
 
Dr. Hinge: Hear, hear.

Dame Hilda: So, for Maureen, we would like to sing our Scottish medley.

Gin a body, meet a body, comin’ thru the rye.

Gin a body, kiss a body, need a body cry

Every lassie has a laddie

Name they say hae I

Yet a’ the laddies smile at me

When comin’ thru the rye

Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonnie banks o’ Clyde

Roamin' in the gloamin' wi’ ma lassie by ma side

When the sun has gone to rest

That’s the time that I love best

Oh, it's lovely Roamin' in the gloamin

Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonnie banks o’ Clyde

Roamin' in the gloamin' wi’ ma lassie by ma side

When the sun has gone to rest

That’s the time that I love best

Oh, it's lovely Roamin' in the gloamin

Far fray my hame I wander

But still my thoughts return

To my ain folk over yonder

In the sheiling by the burn.

I can see the cosy ingle

And the mists upon the brae

And joy and sadness mingle

As I list an auld world lay

And it's oh but I'm longing for my ain folk

Though they be but lowly pure and plain folk

I’m far beyond the sea

Still my heart will ever be

At hame in dear old Scotland

With my ain folk

Just a wee deoch an doris, just a wee drop, that's all

Just a wee deoch an doris, afor ye gang awa

There's a wee wifey waitin’ in a wee but an ben

If you can say it's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht

Then yer a’ richt ye ken

Just a wee deoch an doris, just a wee drop, that's all

Just a wee deoch an doris, afor ye gang awa

There's a wee wifey waitin’ in a wee but an ben

If you can say it's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht

Then yer a’ richt ye ken

Dame Hilda: I can say it, I can say it, it's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht

Then yer a’ richt ye ken

Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor