IT’S AN island, yes. But it’s no treasure. Not for the dullards who, in all weathers the year round, find themselves marooned, trapped by the tide on Cramond Island.
Known as the ‘‘laird’’ of the village, owner of the Cramond Gallery Bistro Alan Bogue has become accustomed to irresponsible individuals calling out the rescue services.
‘‘It beats me how they pay no attention to the highly conspicuous notice warning that the tide can creep up on them. I’ve helped out the desert island risks when possible but I’m no kind heart in this respect.’’
Ideally the Boguey man would put the frighteners on them. ‘‘The island is uninhabited and an enforced night spent on it, along with a £100 fine to cover the rescue people’s costs, seems a reasonable deterrent.’’
Leave it to the laird to sort things out.
Saint Mirren’s mouthing it: “I still sort of believe in fairies and leprechauns. But I don’t believe in God,” Helen Mirren’s saying.
However, she fervently believes in herself and that favourite little red dress, judging by the red carpets she’s wearing out at celeb events she’s gracing here and in the States.
What can’t be denied is that Helen knows her lines. She tries in vain to keep them covered. Hands are the giveaway. An age thing.