Oh Flower of Scotland
A great weekend up in a little town in the Trossachs called Callendar. We were there for a wedding, the Cap'n was finally making an honest woman of McJanet and, as a result , there was a mass exodus from the Manchester area as various friends of the happy couple decamped north of the border.
And I have to say 'north of the border' but her best clothes on in a successful attempt to impress. For impressed we were. The hotel Dearest, myself and the four-legged friend inhabited was great value: warm, welcoming and reasonable. What more could you ask for? The location of the wedding - The Roman Camp Hotel - was stunning. Built around 1630 next to the remains of a Roman Camp, the place was enchanting.
I've always felt an affinity to the land of my forbears (my paternal grandad arrived in Manchester from Dumbarton via Sunderland just before the war). This weekend's wedding was an excuse to visit again for the first time since the 80s and it did my soul good. Youngest was an usher and was kilted up to the nines. A bonny figure of a man he made too.
Appetite wetted now. I'll have to talk Dearest into an Autumn break in the land of my fathers this year. Mind you, she fancies Venice. However, you can't take a dog to Venice can you?
Heh heh!
Bye bye Anelka you moody prick. Fenerbahce......? Yeah. Whatever.
Hello Kiki Dee - 'cos that's what you will be called. Still - I couldn't give a shit what you're called - you've got a left foot and that's all that matters.
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