Gerry and I spent a week up at his parent’s place in Scotland. We attempted to climb a munro (a Scottish mountain), I got severely car sick on the way there and had to abandon the mission half way up the mountain. Suddenly the horizon started jumping up and down and I had to sit down and cradle my head in my hands as elderly walkers and kids with sledges walked past me. Not one of my proudest moments. I watched the second football game of my life. Hibs won. Gerry was happy. No swearing ten-year-olds at the game this time.
I did some interviews about independence at The House of Bruar, a shopping mall type place on the A9, where the staff all seem to be Eastern European and the customers all wear tweed. It was a fifty/fifty split. Sometimes the independence question feels more like a popularity contest for Alex Salmond.