Thursday 30 November 2017

Saint Andrew's Day weather and its sense of timing.

     Today is St. Andrew’s Day and I was due to be on grandfather duty in Edinburgh this evening. I boarded the 5.45am Auld Reekie bound train at Totnes, Devon. The weather as we passed through the West Country, the Midlands and South Yorkshire was clement. The sun shone brightly in the sky until we passed by Thirsk Station in North Yorkshire where we encountered fierce, almost white out blizzards that continued through County Durham, and Northumberland though on approaching the Scottish border we returned to sunny weather without a hint of snow.

     A young man from Bahrain sat in one of the seats across the aisle from me. I know he was a Bahraini because he had been drawn into  conversation by two Scottish military veterans, who were sitting behind me.  I gathered from what they said that the two old warhorses, one RAF, and the other, Black Watch, had been down south attending a convention for old warriors who had served in the Middle East. Among the topics of the  conversation between the two Scots and the Bahraini - a conversation which for much of the time was one-sided - were, firstly, the rôle of British forces in Aden during the 1960s and 1970s and, secondly, the veterans’ advice to the young Bahraini on which tourist attractions he should visit during his stay in Edinburgh. Over time the conversation wained until the snows came and one of the veterans asked the young man if he had seen snow before. He replied that he had not known it to snow in Bahrain. The old airman observed that we were still in England,  "Wait 'til you get to Scotland you'll see real snow there".
        
     As we crossed the Scottish border in magnificent sunshine the veterans became increasingly dismayed. There was no snow here and in a not quite spoken way they gave out an impression that the Scottish weather  - by holding back on the snowfall -  had let them and Scotland down. Comical, ridiculous and pathetic was what I thought, knowing that, whether I liked it or not, I had the same thought and feeling as my battle worn compatriots.  I remembered the line from the Proclaimers' song Letter from America. "You know our sense of timing we always wait too long."  Even our weather does. 



I wasnae that fashed tae ha'e a day named efter me

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Friday 17 November 2017

The Tartan Army Saves Old Scotia's Dignity

Here, what's all this about the BBC giving us long reports o' how earth shattering it is that Italy didnae qualify for the World Cup? The BBC never does that when Scotland doesnae  make it. OK, I know that last sentence opens up all sorts of possibilities for a keen riposte but haud ye're horses for wee while.


I was walking doon the street here in Totnes the other day when I met Joe, the barber, the toon's main Celtic supporter,who was walking along wi' his collie dog. He has his shop in the Rotherfold for those of you wha ken Totnes. He stopped me and said he was fair scunnered that there wiz a' this news coverage about the demise of the Azzurri. I reminded him that Scotland was cheated out of a place at the finals of the  2008 European Nations Football Championship when a spurious decision by the referee to award Italy a free kick in the final minute of the match from which Italy scored denied Scotland its rightful place in competition with fitba's elite.



The dreadful moment: the Italian in white about to take a dive.

Despite the horrendous injustice done to our nation that night,  our Scottish fans, The Tartan Army, assuaged their disappointment, and left the whole of Scotland with some dignity when they serenaded Italian fans at Hampden on the night  -  to the tune of Guantanamera  -  with their own impromptu operatic aria which had the following libretto,


 "We're gonna deep fry your pizza! We're gonna deep fry your pizza, deep fry your pizza, deep fry your pizza. "  

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Keith Coleman writes, "We would also taunt alien invaders with a similar chant about deep fried, battered Mars Bars."