My peripatetic urges having been somewhat assuaged, I decided to venture a bit closer to home last week.
Perth (Scotland, not Australia), is a strange sort of place. It's one of those odd prosperous British towns that has a population composed of 50% skinny latte ladies who lunch and 50% working class oiks clad in track suits.
Being away from home for a protracted length of time has the advantage of allowing you to appreciate the strangeness of your native environment with fresh eyes. I've reached the conclusion that I live in the oddest country on the face of the planet. Not only does everyone talk funny, they are also fundamentally mad.
Still, it's good to be back amongst me ain folk. The menfolk are still suited and booted, play instruments in Salvation Army brass bands, drink far more than is good for them, and beat up their womenfolk. The womenfolk are thankfully still displaying far too much naked flesh and wobbling around with mobile phones glued to their ears.
Where could possibly be nicer?
3 comments:
Aren't there any little old ladies dressed in tweed?
Aye, and they all have wee nippy west highland terriers.
You don't mess with them.
no blancmanges?
no kilts?
i think you might be mistaken. sounds like you live in Sumas, laddie.
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