John Gibson: I’m hoping you’re up to scratch

You’ve guessed. My current favourite reading is the Domesday Book. Flea-carrying rats were blamed for the spread of bubonic plague, the Black Death that ravaged Edinburgh in the 1300s. The incurable scourge caused countless horrendous deaths.

Perish the thought but a plague could reappear in the Capital, this time caused by scavenging gulls and dog fouling. Could we bear to hear the call from the Old Town’s towering tenements the slogan of those terrible times: throw out your dead?

Now that I’ve cheered you up and got you scratching all over . . .

Two for tee

Clubbing together. Bar Roma owner Mario Cugini chauffeured his wife Bibi to Turnberry last week so she could compete in the BMW golf tournament. She’s a 19-handicap member at Archerfield. “Frankly I didn’t give Bibi a real chance, nor did she herself. But not only did she win the practice round on the Thursday on the Ailsa course, she got a hole-in-one at the 15th. And next day she was a top points scorer.

“Proud of her, yes. But I don’t want her to get a big head. As a result she’s won a trip to Singapore to play in a tournament there. We’re going in March.’’ Adds Mario, a member at Archerfield and the Royal Burgess: “We’ve sold our house in Fife and we’re living at the Burgess while we have our Archerfield house built.’’

Isn’t life a bowl of cherries? Or a minestrone if you prefer?

Afterwords . .

. . . I’d never have wanted to be dragged into this. A radio presenter’s statement on air that breastfeeding “is like having sex in public” brought a swift apology from the BBC. Then, again, probably I would, though preferably not during a meal in a restaurant.