A Purposeful Scuttle

Today's blip is a familiar sight to those who frequent the Royal Mile. Officially he's 18th century poet Robert Fergusson, but unofficially he's the bloke with the wig and knickerbockers heading down the Canongate with a purposeful scuttle.

In a few weeks time he will be shaded beautifully by the cherry blossom in the grounds of Canongate Kirk. His purposeful scuttle captures the mood of parliamentarians rushing downhill to the Chamber to cast their vote at 5pm. But today, sporting a floppy bunny rabbit, he reminded me of my former colleagues in Private Office.

Life as a Private Secretary is often like a game of 70s' favourite Buckaroo, where selected items (frying pan, cowboy hat, saddle, shovel, stick of dynamite etc) were hung off the mule to the point of overload. We all aspire to Mr Fergusson's flawless composure in the face of being handed an unexpected bunny rabbit.

This will probably be my last Private Secretary musing (although that's what I said last time, in 2001). As of next month, I will take up a new role as head of zero waste policy. Plenty material to recycle for blips.