Thursday, May 03, 2007

How to stop big burly Scotsmen in their tracks

This is Springtime in Scotland. the weather is gorgeous. This is the local megalithic stone near our cottage. How old? Well, let me see, would 3,000 years old impress you?

Imagine the scene. I have just been overtaken on a single carriageway road by that most lethal of drivers, a white van man from Glasgow, doing 60mph.

Coming the other way is a monster truck full of pine trees just harvested, at the same speed. Closing speed of the two vehicles 120mph.

Neither of these men would you want to make angry in a back street of the Gorbals on a Saturday night when they’ve had a couple of drams.

Both of them screech to almost a halt – 5mph, and pass within centimetres of each other, very gingerly.


There was a tiny lamb, sitting on the side of the road with its feet rubbing together on the white line, bathing its head in the sunshine. On the other side of the road is Mother sheep, blissfully unconcerned, munching away at the grass thinking “Got to get some sustenance, the little sod has been keeping me up all night.”

That’s how you stop even the most formidable Scotsmen in their tracks. They are just big softies.


Ps Mind you, I wonder what their speed would have been if I had been sat on the roadside myself instead of the lamb, with a sign around my neck saying “Sassenach”
(Google it, if you must)

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Lochside cottage near Glencoe in the Highlands of Scotland
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