A cat for a change -

though he does have snow on him, most of it melted before I could get the camera! So though he looks as if he is infested with something you will have to take my word for it that it is snow.
Our guests are now esconced. The funeral was today. Village streets impassable. They do go for funerals, round here, in a big way.
Continuing my/your education on the language round here, a grave is called a lair. Now dont you find that spooky? Wolves have lairs. Hmm.
I was once told a tale about an English woman who was in hospital with something wrong with one of her feet. One of the nurses was asked by the sister to put something on to the foot. So the patient was asked, "Fit foot d'ye want me to fit this on?"
On a more personal note, I remember when I attended the sessions to help one to stop smoking and the leader of the group was from Fraserburgh, a bit further north than Peterhead. I could not understand half of what she said. It got so bad that the rest of the group thought I was monopolising the sessions as I had to keep asking her to repeat what she said. In the end I gave up - smoking as well. "Can ye just give a wee puffy down this tuby?" Was about all I could understand. When the red lights flashed I knew I was doomed.