“Just doing, speaking, writing . . . “

Last Sunday we were in Edinburgh to meet a cousin of my mother’s but having arrived early had some time to wander. Twenty five years earlier, one of my first … Continue reading “Just doing, speaking, writing . . . “

“Every word I think of does not seem enough”

I am not religious but in coming across this gravestone by chance on Tuesday, I found myself tearful. The grave is in Clunyhill Cemetery, Forres, and the words are by … Continue reading “Every word I think of does not seem enough”

Shall Angels Wait

I came across this broken tombstone in Stewarton Churchyard. It was erected by “Alex. Smith in memory of his father”.  It was the inscribed words, worn, broken and shattered, that … Continue reading Shall Angels Wait

Snug as a bug in a rug

After reading me a bedtime story and putting me to bed my mum used to say, no doubt like her mother said to her when she was wee: “Sleep tight. … Continue reading Snug as a bug in a rug