It's "Ehl-shin-fird"

Althenstaneford Kirk from the east with the low evening sun shining on the Saltire flag in the graveyard. This is the "Saltire Heritage Centre", which you can read about here as well as lots of other places.

I always think of this not as "Athel-stane-ford", but as "Ehl-shin-fird", because a few years ago a local friend told me that her "mither" refuses to understand anyone who refers to "Athelstaneford". "Et's Ehl-shin-fird, ther's nae ither plis."

Thankyou everyone for the warm words on yesterday's 200th! Normal grouchy service will now be resumed.

Bit of a strange day with an unpleasant introduction to the new North Berwick trains which have absolutely rubbish bike spaces compared to the great facilities on the trains being phased out. Complete division between the muttering punters and the cyclists ensued, with the poor guard in the middle. And the weather was great today, wait til it's raining. Very bad.

Later in my favourite bike shop, the new assistant refused to sell me a spoke. Well, I've heard some crap about bike wheels from lads in bike shops over the years, but this took the biscuit.

Lad: "Sorry we can't help you."
Me: "Oh, don't you have the size?"
Lad: "It's a 282mm."
Me: "OK, what sizes near 282 do you have?" (Myth number 1. You have to have the exact spoke length. Rubbish.)
Lad: "We have 282 but it's double butted."
Me: "So what?"
Lad: "It won't work. Your other spokes are single butted."
Me: "Haha, bollocks. That doesn't matter at all. I'll take it."
Lad: "No, the mechanic says it'll be the wrong tension and blah blah blah bollocks."
Me: "Sell me the spoke please."
Lad: "No."
Me: "Look, I don't have a spoke. It's better to have one of these than not have one."
Lad: (goes on a bit) (eventually goes & gets me the bloody spoke).

Good grief.
So, I rode home 30 miles with a broken spoke and I'll put the new one on in a minute. Sigh.