‘There’s a Breathless Hush in the Close Tonight’

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’”

It’s A Worry No 1 – The Open

In 1986 or thereby, four of us flew to Malaga for a week’s golf at Sotogrande. We flew from Newcastle and enjoyed the trip down listening to the designated driver’s audio tapes of the Masters tournament of bygone years. I remember one fondly. Fred Couples was leading in the final round by a couple of shots when he hit his ball into the stream at Amen Corner. The commentator asked ‘I wonder what’s going through his mind right now’. There followed a very audible and heartfelt ‘Oh F—!’ from the boy Fred. Continue reading “It’s A Worry No 1 – The Open”

1966 and All That

In case you had forgotten, I have rules about the countries that I support to beat England. In cricket, it’s Scotland. For rugby it’s Scotland, Wales, Ireland and South Africa. At football I will happily cheer on my Sassenach cousins except against Scotland, Northern Ireland or Wales (unless that diving bastard Bale is playing for the Taffs).
Continue reading “1966 and All That”

Serendipity and Sadness

I have been a fan of serendipity ever since I was fortunate enough to stumble upon the word. I think that might be one of the reasons why  I struggle to be a conspiracy theorist. For me, there are always too many loose ends and too many people who have to be in on it for any such theory to hold its water. I’m an Occam fan.

It follows that it is a joy when I happen upon a classic serendipitiaceous incident. Continue reading “Serendipity and Sadness”

On Your Mark! Get Set! Don’t Blow!

In case you missed it, the upcoming Weegie Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony ran into a wee bit of controversy recently. Obviously, we in Caledonia were never going have anything like the same amount of money as the reactionary Westminster junta gave to the 2012 Olympic Games. A classic example of our being starved of proper funding by the English oppressor.

We were having to make do with a miserly £14m out of the pittance which the UK Government grudgingly doles out to us. Our Great Leader has now managed to increase that to £21m, presumably by cutting back on his utterly justifiable and reasonable expenses at great personal sacrifice. Continue reading “On Your Mark! Get Set! Don’t Blow!”

Third Photograph Competition of 2014

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”

Here’s tae us. Wha likes us? Part 1

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”

Haggis Go Home

As we steadfastly march behind our Dear Leader towards the glorious dawn of Scottish Independence, fanned by the zephyr-like breath of the tens of millions of wind turbines crowding across every available inch of our mountains and glens and far too sober thanks to the extortionate amount of alcohol duty levied by the Health Fascists of the Scottish Parliament, it is time to reflect on one of the few good things which will come out of that Independence.
Continue reading “Haggis Go Home”