The Saint Willy Cross

It's one of those old ancient laws around these parts that:

"If heavenwards ye clap yer 'ee and spewins of iron birds ye see, whit maks a feersum sign o' the cross ahint the cloods, then be struck doon wi' the pox, if ye don't blip this wi' yer soul-sapping magic box"

It's not widely known I'll give you, kind of like the one about still being able to murder a Scotsman if he ventures into York carrying a bow and arrow (I believe this might also be down to the chap commemorated at this monument also), but it has to be done or you're doomed to an eternity spent with Mel Gibson teaching history.

I had been trying to get another nice long lens shot of Stirling and the castle but the heat haze (yes, you read that right, 'heat' haze) conspired to make it look like it was taken through the bathroom window. That, and the fact that my preferred location for that was now barbwire fenced off. Poor Euan was dragged around a few back roads and along some dodgy looking paths (including attempting to break out of Bannockburn cemetery) trying to scout out another location before I gave up and shot this instead.

Busy day otherwise, first visiting the new Forth Valley Royal hospital getting Euan's teeth looked at - this place looks like a cross between Ikea and a shopping mall but I'm pretty sure there's medicine practiced there too - then off for our summer haircuts at Mulsay's, followed by more trimming at home with the lawn mower (short back and sides), then finally off on some taxi duties for a celebratory mother-in-law birthday dinner back up at Stirling Castle.

And they call this a holiday too.

Go muckle.

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