Author: John Mackie

Last night, at acqua alta, the city of Venice was hit by serious floods which covered part of Piazza San Marco to a depth of a couple of centimetres at least.

Continue reading “An Urgent Appeal”

So, anyway, there we were sitting at the Ristorante Beccafico in Campo San Stefano enjoying a magnificent meal and the sight of the Venetians promenading past us on their nightly passegiata. Restaurant packed and a queue waiting for tables. I had prebooked (Emma Ah Cheh Cappa Ee Eh) so was feeling pretty smug until I spotted that the people waiting were being plied with free drink.

An elderly gentleman wandered up to the front of the restaurant. Sudden commotion. The proprietor rushed forward, greeted him effusively and ushered him to the only free table in the place. All he ordered was a glass of water and a mixed salad but every single waiter in the place took the chance to hover attentively and to have a chat. They all called him ‘Maestro’. Continue reading “Quello che sto facendo per le vacanze Parte il secondo”

Venice 23rd May 2010

Well, we got here without too many problems. The Ryanair flight was only 3 hours late and they were almost apologetic about it.

Now ensconced in our self-catering apartment about five minute’s walk from San Marco. Last night, it was magic as gondoliers sailed past under our windows, serenading the punters who were paying an arm and a leg for what we were getting for free.

We have since discovered that we are on a little circuit where package tourists pay for a ‘gondola experience’ which lasts about 10 minutes. Flotillas of gondolas pass through every twenty minutes or so at peak times and the singing gondolier seems to be on a loop so far as I can hear. I reckon that, by Wednesday, I’ll be introducing him to the old Embra custom of ‘Gardy loo’ and chucking the contents of a slop bucket out of the window.
Continue reading “What I Am Doing On My Holidays Part 1”

Here’s one that I wrote for a touring cricket team in 1981. I hope that Bearsie, Soutie and a couple of others might enjoy it. I also hope, of course, that the scales will fall from Ferret’s eyes and he might start to appreciate the joy that is cricket. Not holding my breath for that eventuality, in all honesty.

Most of you will be familiar with SASS (the Society for Asserting Scottish Superiority). You are bound to have come across its famous coat of arms – a rampant Scotsman surmounted by crossed whisky bottles and flanked by two inferior Englishmen couchant, the whole emblazoned with the motto ‘Sumus Populus’ . It is a familiar sight on blazers in many a pub and club throughout the civilized world and England. Continue reading “Scottish Cricket – the way forward”

I realise, of course, that, in the course of the next week,  others may try to offer gratuitous crowing about a certain event, but, in the interests of fairness, balance and typical Scottish impartiality, I just feel the need to tell you all what actually happened at Orleans in May 1429. Major Scottish victory against the forces of darkness/England, by the way.

We are, of course, in the third phase of the Hundred Years’ War at that time. Your boy Henry V,  (Olivier or Branagh equally good, in my opinion) had seriously stuffed the Frogs at Agincourt in 1415. The French did what they do best – rolled over and gave in.

Continue reading “The Auld Alliance”

Bearsy,  just a quick thank you for all the hard work and time that you are putting in on this site.  I really do appreciate it.

I particularly enjoy  your rubric to ‘DNmyT’ -that’ll be ‘rubric’  as a Scots legal term, by the way, without prejudice and for the avoidance of doubt.

Maybe only Rainer the Cabbie will enjoy this. Don’t know and don’t care. Still the best song by the late, great Harry Chapin, in my opinion. Thanks again.

I married my good lady wife on the 12th of July in 1974.

Being a Scot and a true romantic,  I pledged that I would give her one red rose for every year of said marriage on our anniversary. Being a Scot and a   torn-faced  cheapskate, I renegotiated said pledge in or about Year 12 and offered one red rose for every five years of marriage. Being a half-Scot and a realist, she accepted my offer. Continue reading “Absent Friends”

Last Boxing Day, there was  a family get together planned. Didn’t happen – my sister was snowed in and the rest of us were snowed out. Moving on, the re-arranged fixture was due to take place this weekend. The Gods of snow did their best to scupper the whole event yet again but we triumphed over them.  We are just back from a magic weekend with sister, nephew, nieces and offspring, made even more magic by said snow.  I will blog/post about all that in due time but I am sitting here in Embra tonight just thinking one thought. Continue reading “Passage to Singapore”

There comes a point when you finally realise that you’re not going to be able to fit it all in before you pop your clogs. A bit of a relief, if truth be told, but no harm in remembering the bits you almost managed to do.

In 1965, I was a schoolboy in Scotland with certain urges and needs, I was rubbish at singing, but I had worked out that it would be a good idea to join the school choir. The girl/boy ratio was favourable and a  lot of the boys in the choir did not appear to have their heart in the concept of interacting with  the fairer  sex,  to be fair.

Continue reading “Climb Every Mountain”

Look, I promise I’m not going to make a habit of this but this is another of my MyT blogs, this time from the end of 2008. I’m in the process of copying all my MyT blogs over to my blogsite here just  in case I’m the next one to be consigned to  oblivion over there. Apologies to Tina who I know does not approve of such retentive behaviour but hey, we’re all different and entitled to march to our own drum, in my opinion.

My excuse for inflicting this one on you is that it is, I believe,  relevant to omg’s blog. It also explains the avatar which I am using here and which is on the way out in the near future,  for your information.

I really hate haggling, dickering, bargaining or whatever else you wish to call it. I would have been a severe disappointment to my Highland ancestors who thought that a good day out could always be had by nipping over into the next glen to negotiate the transfer of cattle from some neighbouring clan, usually at the point of a claymore.

Continue reading “I Really Hate Haggling”