‘I’ll not pay two pounds, I’ll pay one pound fifty; Mean as it sounds I’m keen on bein’ thrifty.’
Talk Of The Stockbridge Tap.
They say the Scots are very tight But that’s not what I found, They thanked me generously last night And all I did was stand a round.
Some See The Stars/Half Empty?
Is auld Dunfermline not an intoxicating sight? The impact of these ancient walls, so profound, Old stained windows remain a dark architectural delight, The rusty crusty iron-barred door indominatably solid and sound- I’m still pounding the old bars at dawns first light, Dunfermline not forgotten despite all the pints I downed.
Scotland on the winter solstice-
Does a holiday get better than this?
Far from the furthest flicker of the sun,
The promise of it rising to two degrees by half past one.
Usually, at home, I’d be attired in T-shirt and shorts,
Scarves, gloves and boots far from my thoughts,
These negative mornings ain’t what I’m used to,
Here, the gloom is setting in come half past two.
Aye, but bonny Scotland’s a grand place to see,
Still, best look twixt the hours of nine and three,
For if you’ve not seen your share of sightseeing by four-
Unless you’re wearing night vision goggles you won’t see any more.
Dunfermline town is old, grey and dour,
Full of faces long and prospects poor,
Where every declivity becomes a hill to climb,
Where they shuffle through Kingsgate Mall, killing time,
Where the young have gone off, God knows where,
To them all that matters is it’s not here, but there.