Specsavers. (Though there are other companies). I wonder if you have ever thought of the irony, that Scottish football referees are sponsored by Specsavers? I cannot remember how long the company has sponsored them, but ask most fans and they […]
I look out the window and watch the plane head upwards. Someone is heading somewhere, probably warm, off on a holiday or a break from the norm. If there is one advantage of living near Glasgow Airport, it’s seeing the
How many languages do you speak? Sitting in my study are innumerable Italian books, many of them grammar, used when I studied Italian at Glasgow University. For example: ‘Read and Think Italian’, ‘Italian step by step’, ‘750 Italian verbs and
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 – countdown. Oh, to be like Rachel. To be able to count like her. To do the maths like her. Or Carol Vorderman before. The numbers are chosen, ‘two from
I am writing this night before we head down south to Manchester to pick up the flight for Italy and our holiday in Lake Garda. I hope this story doesn’t come back to haunt me, but 20 years ago I
I wonder if you have ever heard of Frank Ilet. No? Well, let me tell you about Frank. Let me be frank about Frank. He is a Manchester United fan, and, in a moment of madness, or hope but certainly
Do you know what IKEA means? It stands for its founder, Ingvar Kamprad, his family farm Elmtaryd and the nearby village, Agunnyard – making the acronym IKEA. It also stands for the place where you purchase furniture that you have
‘Summer suns are glowing…’ I have just arrived back from three meetings in the Presbytery Office: one of which was the Nominations Committee, and another was on the discussion of my installation as Moderator of the Presbytery for 2025-2026, which
A Happy Easter to you all! I cannot thank you all enough for both the work and the support during Holy Week up to Easter Day. Like Jill in the past, Nickie went above and beyond to produce our little
In the 1960s, before the troubles really started in Northern Ireland, we, as a family, had a holiday there. A relation of my mother, called ‘Aunt Daisy’, lived on a farm outside Pomeroy. And after what seemed like an eternity
