Ambling

An enjoyable amble around town - got a haircut at long last, picked up some lovely snipe nosed pliars, a bottle of Aberlour A?bunadh, and a new stripey shirt. And bumped into Mr D, an auld pal and veteran of many football related escapades some decades back. What times we had. He was on his way to Tynecastle via the Filmhouse. Cosmopolitan sort, us jambos. Before too long I was there for the main event too. Gagh - a 2-0 reverse; such is life. Young Callum had been up all night and fell asleep at half time. It would have been an unkindness to wake him as everything fell apart. Afterwards, fine pints and blethers and then to an excellent party along the street with many of the drouthy crew. And the hostess was as youthful and foxy as ever - 50! She can't be! [Is this alright, Mr W?]