I meant to write about this on Monday, rather than prattling on about dead people. (I sometimes re-read my posts and even I’m perplexed. But I leave them there as testament to my incoherence.) It was the mention of problems on the M74(M) at Ecclefechan that sparked the memory.
Many years ago six of us went to Edinburgh for New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t the greatest success because of the booze, for which I blame a harmless-looking woman I met in Boot’s. I was into homebrew at the time and planned on fermenting some wine to take with us on the trip. The trouble was, I’d left it quite late and had to plump for one of those ‘gallon in a month’ jobbies they sold in a tin as a concentrate. Read more ›››