Alan Skeoch

Month: December 2025

  • GEORGE RICHEY —SEAGOING COWBOY 1946.


    EPISODE  1,473  700 WILD HORSES WITH GEORGE RICHEY…’JUST TURN THEM LOOOSE’.

    ALAN SKEOCH
    DECEMBER 23, 2025

    SETTING: JUNE, 1946.
    S.S.  Benoit Victory
    George Richey, Seagoing Cowboy
    near Hamberg, Germany
    Mysterious disappearance of 700 horses.

    “What do we do with the horses now, George?”
    “All 700 old them?”
    “Yes…and do it fast…we cannot feed them.!”

    “Let them go….all 700 at once on streets of Hamberg…(700 horses running wild…were never seen  again.)
    “What will happen to them?”
    “No one knows…I bet most of them will be eaten. The people are starving and do not have the time
    or the energy to tame the wild ones.   We will never know.  No one keeps records and thousands of
    horses are being shipped to Europe on Liberty ships like ours.  Ships that once carried tanks, troops
    and oil are now carrying horses. heifers, donkeys even chickens.  thousands of them…so many
    have been slaughtered.  Better chickens eaten now than waiting for them to lay eggs.  Starvation.”
    Same with our 700 horse.
    “Surely not that bad.”
    “Worse than you can possibly imagine, George. Just go for a walk along the rubble strewn streets of Hamberg.
    (Bombers from England had pulverized Hamberg…imagine the sudden arrival of 700 horses from America.)
    “Imagine the sudden arrival of 700 horses running free through the rubble…our horses some or
    which must have been captured in the Rocky mountain wilderness…wild horses.”
    “Wild is right.”
    “One bit me…hurt…big teeth clamped on my arm.”
    “Difficult enough for 12 of us to feed the horses as the ship heaved its way across the Atlantic.  So many ships full of animals.”
    “Some ships can carry 1500 horses.  All we have to do is get them to Germany or Poland alive.”
    “Then what happens?
    “guess.!”
    “Have you ever seen something about them?”
    Not a word.”
    “Take cows for instance…
    “Milk is needed  desperately,  Dairy herds gone.  Some cows were shipped but not many.  Suppose we had to milk 700 cows every for
    nine days…impossible”
    Cows have to be milked daily.  If not milked cows die an agonizing death…they scream.”
    “Dairy herds that survived were few in number but I don’t really know.  No records…like
    our 700 horses.   We can only guess their fate. Those that could be harnessed were
    were very valuable but the others…eaten I bet.”

    Does anyone know what h

    default icon69cf53ca91deb.html

    default icon69cf53cd36636.html

    default icon69cf53cfbce80.html

    default icon69cf53d27e84d.html

    default icon69cf53d553d89.html

  • EPISODE 1,471; EMPATHY — DEMONSTRATED BY JOHN MORTON YEARS AGO at high park curling club., TOROTO.

    alan skeoch dec/ 18, 2025
    Some curling games are soon forgotten…others are hard to forget. This game happened years ago. John Morton threw an 8 ender. That means that my team had a terrible game. John Morton’s eight ender made me feel bad…embarrassing…humiliating.
    “We got an 8 ender!!!“ He began to yell. But he looked over at me. I was feeling lower than a snake in a rut. John cut off his jubilation…threw his arm around my shoulder and said:
    “Come on Al, I’ll buy you a beer.”
    That’s empathy in action.
    alan skeoch

  • EPISODE 1,470; TORONTO’S GRENADIER POND HOSTS 1993 GRAND MATCH OF CURLING (HIGH PARK CURLING CLUB)



    EPISODE 1,470:  GRENADIER POND HOSTS GRAND MATCH OF CURLING   IN WINTER OF 1993

    alan skeoch
    december 17,2025


    <img id="” alt=”image029.jpeg” class=”Apple-web-attachment Singleton” style=”opacity: 1;” apple-inline=”yes” src=”https://alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/4D741554-03D1-405A-A821-BCAC433F4624.jpeg”>


    “ALAN, let’s get a team together for the Grand Match of Curling on Grenadier Pond,” said Brad.

    So Brad Schneller, Mike Dent, Ed Werenich, THE WRENCH, and I became one of the 64 teams of curlers to venture on the
    ice of Grenadier Pond deep in the winter of 1993.  

    Was the winter ice able to hold 300 curlers, several sets of curling stones, and 1 bag piper blowing his heart out?

    Legend had the story that a bunch of British Grenadiers died trying to retreat from American forces in the War 
    of 1812 —  with their wheeled canons and assorted weapons.   If the legend was true (which it wasn’t) then
    their skeletons and their artillery pieces must be poking out of the mud deep down.  The pond is 15 feet deep
    with a bottomless layer of mud (not bottomless but that makes the legend more interesting).

    Our 1993 curling team dressed suitably in old bear, buffalo and raccoon skin coats were ready.  My son Kevin gave me a Russian
    field hat from the ill fated invasion of Afghanistan in the 1990’s.  The other 64 teams were  similarly fashionable.
    If the ice gave way we would all be planted dead — 15 feet down under.

    Just as our games got started in 1993 a snowstorm swooped down so a full count was never done.  64 x 4 x assorted hangers plus one piper equals = 
    a lot of dead bodies if the ice gave way.

    I think it was Paul White, High Park Curling Club, along with many others who hatched up the Grand Match to celebrate the club centenary.
    Did they check with insurance companies?  Good question.  Those who had doubts of our survival linedthe shores of
    the 35 acre pond on west side of 100 acre High  Park.  Maybe bets were made among these rubberneckers.

    As the snow deepened and the ice harder to find Mike Dent of our team volunteered his body as
    a giant broom with two guys dragging him at a right angles to the ice.   Earlier he had forgotten to let go of
    his rock and slid down the ice after his body hit the surface with a loud ‘whump !’.

    Fortunately our skip, Ed W, had a whisky filled hollow metal curling broom.  That provided false courage and warm guts.’

    Back at our High Park Curling Club the gutless wonders who refused risks toasted the memories of those of us who did not
    get off the ice in time.

    Right now I would like to propose toast to three of my teachers at Humberside who founded the club — Stuffy McInnis, Herb Tancock
    and the father of Duncan Green.  They would have joined us had they lived long enough.   Duncan Green offered me his dad’s curling stones
    which would  have  been used on the ice that winter day in 1993.

    Now let’s skedaddle through the twisted streets of Parkdale to the club which is hidden there.

    alan skeoch

    P.S>  Would an insurance company c0ver this venture?

    P>P>S>  Around 1995 we did a Radio Noon CBC story about Grenadier Pond in which Mike Smee,
    Christopher Thomas and I persuaded our boys to dive down to see if the snouts of ancient cannons remained.  Kevin surfaced
    “Nothing down there dad” while Andrew took his time “shoved my arm deep in the mud, no cannons, dad.”
    Marjorie did not think much of the hair brained idea.    What a grand story it would have been had 64 teams of curlers 
    fallen through the Ice in 1993.  Someone else would tell that story.

    The legend lives on.!




  • SOME PEOPLE YOU KNOW ARE TRUSTWORTHY…SIMON IS ONE OF THAT KIND. Hawaii trip Parkdale

    SOME PEOPLE YOU KNOW ARE TRUSTWORTHY…SIMON IS ONE OF THAT KIND.
    alan skeoch dec. 9, 2025
    Simon Cotter was president of our student council…a good leader. Good to be with. Fun. Lots of ideas. Independent…free wheeling.
    So when he asked speak to me privately I sensed it was trouble.
    “Sir, I’m in a bit of a jam.” “Unusual for you, Simon.” “Have you ever been to Hawaii? We need you desperately.”
    Simon thought he could organize a school trip on his own. Thirty students had been working all summer. Saving their money for a March break trip to Hawaii, The travel company assumed the trip was OK…i.e. had teacher chaperones. Simon was Simon…a free thinker. When the travel company discovered otherwise it was about to pull the rug out and take student deposits. He needed a chaperone.
    “OK Simon I will be your chaperone as long as 5 others come…all paying their own way, Marjorie and our boys Kevin, 8 years old, Andrew, 4 years old…and Mr and Mrs. Champion, British exchange teachers.’’ “Great sir, we needed a few more anyway,,,pack your bathing suit.”
    Once the trip became known, several staff members got alarmed…
    “Alan, you are asking for trouble. Simon may have Parkdale street kids coming….no telling what they might do.” etc. etc.
    (Parkdale street kids indeed were on the trip. They knew how to avoid trouble…best kind of kid to have on a trip. I did not like the term ’street kid’…revealed an upper crust attitude. Our principal was supportive. She trusted me. I trusted SIMON. His mom’s a trustee and his dad the a local anglican minister.)
    “Alan, the purpose of this trip is not education. The purpose is not, music history, art. The purpose is fun and fun can be very dangerous.”
    “ I trust Simon. He knows the risks.”
    Our boys, got out of bed early each morning to visit al the girls…loved them.
    EVENTS
    1) kids did not have a lot of money so were quite content to lounge on Waikiki beach with our children. Exotic experience. Middle of vast Pacfic Ocean. Lounging on ancient volcano with live volcano not far away.
    2) Trip to battleship Arizona where so many sailors were entombed.
    3) “What is that helicopter doing?. I asked a guy bobbing up and down on gigantic waves. All Parkdale swimmers were riding the waves with me…all save one!
    ’The Helicopter is spotting sharks and catching swimmers that get caught in the UNDERTOW!” Yikes! Get back to the beach.”I yelled,” and everyone save one did so. Erwin Beltran came along head first planting himself among the millions of coral shards. Marjorie and the boys unplugged Erwin. Lost his contact lenses.
    “Do a count…should be 17” “Count 16, sir…” “Simon is missing,”
    Sinking feeling…key member lost to shark maybe or, worse still pulled far offshore by current.
    “Here he comes…bloody back.” “Sorry sir…got caught in a coral grotto down the beach…..wave pushed me in ….hard to get out… scraped my back on coral but I am fine…sorry to cause alarm.
    There were undertow warnings but we never saw them…so exciting to swim in an ocean wave generated by the vast Pacific ocean.
    THAT’S IT…ONLY ONE ADVENTURE….ONLY ONE I HEARD ABOUT ANYWAY.
    alan skeoch dec. 13, 2-25
    QUESTION; Suppose Simon asked you to go as a chaperone…would you take the risks involved?
    If you want to scare yourself then talk to an insurance company,

  • EPISODE 1,469 ; NIGHTMARE ON A SCHOOL TRIP

    “SIR, WE ARE BEING FOLLOWED.”
    EPISODE 1,469: NIGHTMARE ON A SCHOOL TRIP
    Note; MOST school trips are smooth and trouble free. This trip was not.
    Sure enough, a carload of boys were hot on our tail. Not a good omen we had several teachers and one trustee of the Toronto Board of Education. March break, a week when we planned a school trip in this case a trip to Montreal.
    That was nearly 50 years ago and I forget the reason for the trip and most of the kids. Teenagers travelling under the thumbs of their teachers were unlikely to get into trouble. Right?
    That blue car had no thumb. So we began with a bad omen. I was a bit nervous. Our hotel was OK. at least it seemed that way until several odd reports happened.
    “Sir, there are ‘safes’ under the pillows.” Yikes! Not under my pillow. I checked. Just under certain pillows it seems. Could be one safe under one lonely pillow all the same we had to be careful.
    Boys on 4th floor…Girls on the sixth floor…teachers on the seventh floor. Separation. All chance of sexual actvity ruled out.
    I had a pile of papers to mark. Occasionally I glanced out the window. Montreal was calm.
    Then it happened. One hand appeared on our balcony. Then second hand…head…leg and foot…. A boy was climbing from the fourth to the sixth floor. He looked at me and said, “It’s OK, I know how to climb.” I froze. Said nothing. Did nothing to have the boy loosen his grip. His intentions were Platonic I hoped and wondered if the balconies all had climbers.
    Meanwhile, teachers were spending the night in front of the elevators. “Not a bit of trouble!” Little did they know about the climber. Imagine if he fell. I could not speak or move. Then he was gone. There were two to four girls in the room above ours…too many for a sexual encounter l reasoned. Best to keep my mouth shut.
    Were climbers hanging like live strings of spaghetti elsewhere? I never knew. A far worse event happened.
    “Sir, come quickly, a boy has overdosed…he’s unconscious.”
    “who is it?” “New student.” “What drug?””No idea, sir.” The room was full of students surrounding a kid. New kid for second semester. Flat out ; BEING drunk was bad enough…drugs were far more dangerous. “Call 911…we need an ambulance…now!”
    I rode with the boy…he did not move as the medic probed and took blood pressure. “I will call ahead … get a doctor right away.”
    “Are you the teacher?”’ “one of them.”. “We will have to pump his stomach…need permission…”
    I remember that terrible night. I sat alone all night at the end of a long corridor. At the other end doctors and nurses worked over the boy. Seemed to be four of them … seemed urgent. Hours. All night.
    “He should be OK now.” The boy was alive and well…he said nothing…no thanks to the people who may have saved his life. We took a taxi back to the hotel. “Has anybody phoned Mrs, Hambleton? “Yes, she says to send the boy back toToronto if he is able.” “He is able…out of danger. How did he get drugs?”
    That happened long ago. What I remember clearly is the contents of his suitcase. Everything was so neatly packed. Extra clothes…shirt that loooked brand-new…socks bundled. I guessed his mother loved him despite his stupidity. “Sending you home”.
    That was the last I saw of the boy. I don’t think he returned to school. A few months later he was arrested for gang rape I was told.
    “Remember his neatly packed suitcase?”
    “I remember it well and think of his poor mother trying to get her son lifted…loving her son despite his behaviour . Crying.
    alan skeoch Dec. 8, 2025
    p.s. I cannot remember why we took those kids to Montreal. It certainly was not an exercise in climbing or to find treasures under pillows or to get a stomach pumped…or to test a mother’s love for an errant son.
    This is not a happy story. Sorry . The next story is a happy one. I just had to get this story out of my memory…failed to do so.