I have been fascinated by newspaper columns forever.
If I promise that this will be my very last utterance on the subject of Brexit, will you please hang in there at least as far as the second paragraph?
So, that has got rid of the backward spring then.
A whale washes up dead on an Angus beach and makes big headlines. A mass stranding of whales on an Australian beach makes national television bulletins over here, 10,000 miles away.
I had a very strange dream. I have lots of strange dreams, but most of them end up in the dream dustbin, where I think they are recycled into episodes of Celebrity Big Brother.
A top line-up of authors, film-makers, adventurers and journalists has been unveiled for the 14th Winter Words literary festival, which opens next month in Pitlochry.
I am a newcomer to the eagle glen. My 40 years acquaintance with the place is only a few more years than the lifespan of a single golden eagle, assuming it is given the opportunity to die quietly of old age.
Sometimes I think the only people who truly understand the human condition are the great songwriters.
Ah, September! The TV weather forecaster utters the magic words: “Tomorrow is the first day of meteorological autumn”, and I dance a jig.
Sir, - I read Jim Crumley’s column (August 15) with a mounting sense of incredulity.