Alasdair the Stag

I was sitting watching the penalty shootout in the ladies’ Euros when Mrs CBL shouted to me from another room at the front of the house. She had just spotted a stag in a neighbour’s garden, the house in front of us that partially blocks our view of the sea.

She told me to get my camera as this was something not to be missed and had to be photographed.  I dillied and dallied until the Lionesses had won …. many congratulations to the ladies … before going to see the stag.

And there it was baying at something but it wasn’t the moon.  I took his picture and what a fine beast he is!  I have named him Alasdair.

Why Alasdair, I hear you asking?  Well because of an incident that took place in the very first competitive rugby match I played in.  It was against one of the very posh schools in Glasgow, The Academy!  As one of their players received a pass from a teammate his father bellowed out in encouragement, “Go on Alasdair, run like a stag!” I kid you not.

Ever since then every time I see a stag I think of Alasdair, so the new garden ornament has to be nicknamed Alastair!

Our neighbours in Millionaire’s Row in front of us are all “fur coats and nae knickers!”