My enthusiastic recollection of these women does not extend, however, to the vengeful harpy who thrust skipping ropes into our wee hands or goaded us across the scrub as fast as our little feet would carry us. She looked like a carrot subject to vengeful tanning procedures; her contorted, tyrannical features perennially set like a mummified scrotum. This beldam was not terrifically keen on yours truly, that melancholy fact owing to my persistent failure to dash fleetly, to skip, to forward roll – unforgivable sins in a child. Come the yearly suffering of Sports Day, my class stood to our marks – all four of us. Flat feet generated a flat pace – and I invariably lurched across the line at the rump of the column. My fellows would snag stickers proudly proclaiming them #1st ! #2nd ! #3rd ! … while my non-optimal performance was annually honoured by another rosette reading – I kid ye not – “Well done, you finished the race!”
The position of #4th is, as a result, a comfortable and familiar one for me. And I’m cheerful to note that old familiar has recurred in the SNP/Cybernat category of the Scotsblogs Awards 2010. My thanks to all and any who cast their votes for me. The full roll of nationalistic honour is as follows...
3. Go Lassie Go
10. Bella Caledonia