My old home town’s ambition to become a tourism destination specialising in cruise liners scares the hell out of me.
I have been reading the runes in some of the quieter backwaters where agriculture and nature cohabit (and sometimes annoy each other the way neighbours sometimes do). And having read and thought about what I’d read, a troubling question began to take shape in my mind: how long will it be before the British Government starts culling badgers in Scotland as part of what passes for its strategy to control bovine TB in England?
A certain gentle mockery used to come my way from within the ranks of the Crumley tribe for using the word “record” when I meant a CD.
A hint of grotesque distortion has crept into the never-ending procession of spleen-venting malcontents who increasingly characterise the owners and managers of Scotland’s estates and farms.
So 2023, eh? Dundee, European City of Culture? I have a question. When was Dundee not a European city of culture? Culture and Dundee are two sides of the same coin. Europe, culture and Dundee are three branches of the same tree.
A post-Brexit technological revolution will sweep Britain, so all is well, and those of us who believe that Brexit was an idea knocked up in a London pub and written down on one of Nigel Farage’s fag packets can sleep easier.
I took part in a nature writing festival at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh at the weekend. It was called Connect With Nature.
Between the years of 1870 and 1994, more than 10,000 people were buried in Dundee in unmarked graves. I am no-one’s idea of a historian, so this is not the kind of information I normally carry around in my head.
Day by day, week by week, month by month, the V&A building embeds itself into the cityscape of Dundee and into the hearts and minds of the natives. By now we know that this is becoming something sensational.
A strange anomaly has crept into the Scottish Government’s position about the reintroduction of beavers.