With the Solstice a day or so away, the village at Cramond truly was pretty as a picture. Awaiting the Forth’s tide to flood the River Almond. The trees stunning in the mid-afternoon light.
But hang on, before I get carried away. The dramatic artist, with a way with words, is Alan Bogue, owner of the bistro and gallery down there for 30 years.
Resident restaurateur who occasionally turns his hand to drawing, evidence of this talent on his personalised Christmas card.
Done from a statue of the Madonna and accompanied by his own words: “Christmas is not just about a wee fat man with a white beard and a red coat and breeks . . .’’
Bogue studied mural painting at Edinburgh Art College and a mural spans an entire wall of the bistro.
His step-daughter Jenna is being groomed to take over there to enable Mr B, retired, to slope off with partner Janie to their flat in Cyprus when the mood takes them. All right for some.
It’s no joke
No joy from Fiona Bruce. Newsreading at six, her face as long as Leith Walk. Nary the merest hint of a smile from Fi.
And a drop-dead Christmas to you, too, sweetheart. You desperately need a double dose of Doddy (meaning Ken Dodd, predictably on stage over the festivities to settle that tax bill).
What a card
Delivered hot mail, a heart-warming card from an avid reader. A talking/singing card bearing the season’s greetings.
A cool Yule to you, too, Daniel. Worry ye not! I’ve got your message: “Don’t forget to buy the album.”
Incidentally, reader, one of countless females fawning over me sent the card.