According to my poshest diary today, 2 August, is a bank holiday in Scotland. Not in England. Nor Wales. But also in the Republic of Ireland. Passing through Callendar where the World Highland Games were cabering away all the banks were open. Why? It may be that they wanted to attract deposits from the spectators at the Highland Games in moments of boredom engendered by gents in skirts tossing telegraph posts around. Bbut the check out lady at the Antiques Road House, a few miles on, could cast little light. She said that Bank Holidays in Scotland were 'funny'. Certainly the traffic was funny-all heading south from Edinburgh, England wards, apparently desperate to escape the non-holiday.
Back in the Merse. Mr Fish, bless him, has sent light cloud. Much cooler than Killin although further South. So no excuse to avoid picking the over abundant soft fruit.
The
Berwickshire reports the presence of a gang (as usual marauders from Northumbria) specialising in the theft of heavy plant and machinery. This is so serious that the local MSP has asked the police to set up a dedicated team to deal with this type of criminal activity. One would have thought that it would be quite difficult to steal such heavy equipment from around here where strangers are all to apparent and someone charging off on a 15 ton excavator is not likely to be mistaken for an innocent short break as possible tourist. How does this specialist thief operate? Presumably he has to steal a heavy vehicle first before he can carry off a slightly less heavy piece of machinery. The only target around here is Mr R's yard which is crammed with heavy equipment but any one attempting to break in and take away, even an unattended pogo stick, will stick out like the proverbial aching digit and be overpowered by the neighbourhood watch long before he even reaches the Kirk. Forget Hutton is my advice to any would be Geordie marauders. Easier pickings further South.
