A FIRE at Pitlochry diverted our man Bill deeper into the Highlands, for a wee holiday break instead at Inverness, Dingwall and Beauly... where his memories of coo candy were well and truly bitten through, and where vegetarian haggis also left a sour taste...
OF course, we've got to try. It's obvious. If we want our EU cousins to flock to our country then we have to encourage them in every way possible. While what follows is directed primarily at our twin town cousins, it applies equally to all foreign guests.
"BY now these legs of putty are transformed into the legs of an athlete"... at least that's what the main character in a novel I read said before a heroic act. Only it didn't apply to us. Our legs are made of putty and there is nothing heroic about our ungainly dash through Heathrow airport in search of Terminal 1, which, let's face it, is never going to be the final act of any heroic ending to anything.
CHICAGO is a big place with a big airport. In retrospect, the area we have to cover to reach the BA check-in desk hardly matches the distances to be negotiated later at London Heathrow, but we don't know that when we set off.
THE departure lounge is a haven, and a haven with coffee. I can smell it at 50 paces. After a contact with security all I want is a cup of coffee served up by a charming lady. At my age, her age doesn't matter, just the age of the beans.
THE last night was soon upon us and we awaited the arrival of Jack and Helen who represented the evening's entertainment... and entertaining it duly proved to be. They were a talented couple. He had won an accordion contest somewhere back in time and his skill was there for all to hear. Helen was a diminutive, perky, smiling type who sang and generally frisked about to the music in the most cultured manner.
I NEVER had difficulties in the past – seat-wise. Usually when directed to the seat I proceeded to almost take for granted that the resulting experience would be a relief, if not actually gratifying. After a recent experience with a seat I think I can say that I actually do appreciate a good seat wherever it happens to be.
I FIRST noticed that night as he entered the room. There was something about him, something quite different. As the smoke cleared from his face I could see Philip's hair hanging loosely down his neck. Philip had let his hair down.
"THE besta chef in town!" What else can the head waiter Massimo say? Chef is there by his side tending to a meringue already aflame "alla vesuvio", which threatens to engulf not just himself but half of Tuscany. In the restaurant, the lights are dimmed to simulate, I suspect, the effects of a pyroplastic flow, but also perhaps to intensify the effects of a meringue masquerading as Vesuvius in full volcanic flow.
THERE is an adage – never perform with children or animals. This I saw at first hand one afternoon in Elgin's Cooper Park. That day organisers had assembled a collection of what might be called entertainment items, among which was a salsa band and a dog team.
