Orcadian Column, 7 November 2024
In the immortal words of Sir Alex Ferguson, it’s ‘squeaky bum time’. As I sit here writing this column, US voters are heading to the polls in what looks set to be a ‘knife edge’ contest.
In the immortal words of Sir Alex Ferguson, it’s ‘squeaky bum time’. As I sit here writing this column, US voters are heading to the polls in what looks set to be a ‘knife edge’ contest.
I can proudly lay claim to having once been part of a cycling peloton with Sir Chris Hoy. Granted, I was on an e-bike at the back of the pack but these are minor details.
The sudden and unexpected death of Alex Salmond from a heart attack while on a speaking engagement in North Macedonia is, first and foremost, a tragedy for his family and my thoughts go out to them, particularly his wife, Moira.
I can now say I have introduced the Queen to Marty Flett. Fortunately, Marty was on his best behaviour, granted not a high bar, but it was enough to keep me out of the Tower of London for now – despite having accidentally ‘photo bombed’ the King...
“They are eating the dogs. They’re eating the cats. They’re eating the pets in Ohio”. I’ve reassured my springer spaniel, Gerry that these are simply the latest incoherent ramblings by Donald Trump.
I first saw Oasis in Lille, France in 1994 a couple of months after the release of their debut album, Definitely Maybe and was fortunate enough to repeat the trick a year later when the band performed at the small but hugely atmospheric Botanique venue.