Please forgive me for this. I trust that I am amongst friends?
I was born British. I don’t believe that I am either better or worse than anybody else for that. I’m just happy that it happened to happen. I’m a Briton of Scots provenance and a loyal subject of Her Majesty.
I would like to die in the same state but there is a torn-faced waste of space who is trying to deny me that possibility. Tonight, Sleekit Salmond is going head to head with Alistair Darling and live on TV in what has been billed as a ‘game-changer’ I hope that he falls flat on his jowls.
Just in case you don’t know the pome, I also hope that Mr Darling plays up big time tonight.
Continue reading “‘There’s a Breathless Hush in the Close Tonight’”
Thanks to the Judgment of Araminta I have the honour of setting the next subject.
You have to understand that I am just a wee thing obsessed at the moment. I may find on 19 September 2014 that I am no longer a full member of my country of origin.
I’ll still be a UK citizen and able to call myself British until I die but I could have been forced to be a Scottish citizen as well, living on a divided island and sundered from my Southron kith and kin.
Which is why said subject is the Bard. Continue reading “Third Photograph Competition of 2014”
Just to reassure Sheona before she corrects me. I know that is not the toast.
It is, of course, ‘Here’s tae us. Wha’s like us? Damn few and they’re a’ deid.’ A typically modest, unassuming, totally correct and utterly justifiable sentiment used when we foregather to celebrate our good fortune in being Scots. But, it would seem that the title version of this post might be the right one for some of those not so blessed.
Continue reading “Here’s tae us. Wha likes us? Part 1”
Well obviously I do. It comes with my ethnic origin.
In Easter 1314, Edward Bruce, brother of our King, the boy Robert, laid siege to Stirling Castle. Getting nowhere, he agreed a deal with the Governor, Sir Philip Mowbray, that the castle would be surrendered if the English did not relieve the siege by Midsummer Day.
This seriously hacked off Robert whose fighting style was of the flitting and elusive persuasion. He was a guerilla warrior who never wanted to be committed to a pitched battle. The tactic had served him well. Continue reading “Remember Bannockburn!”