I returned from London on Tuesday in the company of two elderly Scots and their grandson, a kid with ginger hair and a gap in the front of his teeth which neatly accommodated the bottle of Coke regularly thrust there.
On the table was a bag of salt and vinegar crisps. "The first to see a horse can have these crisps," proclaimed Wee Eric, then muttered under his breath:"That should be easy." It wasn't. There were no horses. His grandparents took no part in the hunt for a horse anyway, but got on reading the Mirror and the Sun.
Exasperated, Wee Eric changed the rules. "Whoever sees a house first can have these crisps." Despite some theatrical close attention to the countryside eye movements, which went completely unnoticed by his grandparents, Wee Eric couldn't find even a house in the rolling farmland.
"Whoever kills me first can have these crisps," said the wee man, but before anyone else could win the prize, he added "and that's me, cos I've killed me before!"
Shortly afterwards, I thought, "Why not start a blog?" Go figure.