Alright Tattie, I've decided to insult you thoroughly (only in fun, I hasten to add!!) as you're in Edinburgh. I'll be landing in Edinburgh in late August to visit my bossy sister who lives in a village near Perth. I'm going to have to practise my best Miss Jean Brodie accent (with which I spoke beautifully in the early sixties, but it's rather rusty now.) And say "Hen" and "Wee". And disguise my Englishness from the fierce Scots who are as we speak plotting independence. I'll have to avert my eyes as numerous men in silly woolly skirts walk about showing their hairy legs with skin doo-dahs stuck down their socks. And step over the drunks on the pavement while on my way to some Festival events. I'll have to listen to my nieces in their snobby Edinburgh accents being anti-English. (One of them works in Harvey Nicholls, so she's got a cheek!) And have my ears blasted with pipe music from all directions on the Royal Mile and jump out of my skin as The Gun fires at 1 o'clock. Bloody Scots!!