Hooley

At a family gathering, a wake or a Christmas hooley, other children would step forward to sing a rhyme or dance a hornpipe.

The celebratory ceilidh at the Culag Hotel in Lochinver is still talked about. 'Oh, it was a fine evening,' one discreet woman said to me. 'A right damn wild hoolie!' a well-oiled friend enthused.

Indeed, our Recording Date was only yesterday and, thanks to a myriad of ongoing so-called technical 'snafus' (more media lingo – you'll get used to it!), we didn't leave the studio (get me, eh?!) until one in the morning, after which our presenters, Jiz and Liz, were in a right fouler, so we all piled back to Jane's gaff for champagne on tap and a wild sort of hoolie that had cocaine and everything, […]

She had always loved what she called a hooley, a gathering of family and friends, and her dying was to be her last, greatest hooley.

It’s blowing a hooley out there.

The wind blew so hard during the service itself that it seemed as though the whole of Oban bay was trying to get into the cathedral. Either that or it was the Holy Spirit blowing up a hooley in celebration.

Bertie held mum's hand tightly as the wind was by now blowing a hoolie and Bertie did not feel very safe as he felt that he was close to being blown off his paws on more than one occasion.

I am arriving at the view that we have probably all been battered and bruised by being flung about the cabin as the boat heels over on its ear. We have all felt queasy (at best) when the wind and tide are battling it out in a hoolie and got cold, wet and miserable.