Drumlanrig: Goldie limps away from uppity hack
As she hirpled through the corridors of power, she was obliged to explain to a passing hack that she had hurt her leg whilst doing the garden. Rather unkindly, the hack suggested that she could get one of the parliament’s motability scooters to help her get around until she got better. As a lifelong stoic, Bella dismissed the suggestion. “I would rather keep some semblance of perambulance,” she replied sniffily.
Lord gets off the bench and picks up his hockey stick
The recent retired chairman of the Scottish Land Court, Lord McGhie, shows no signs of slowing down. Just a week or two after stepping down from his exalted position, the good Lord will be turning out in the colours of one of Scotland’s most distinguished hockey clubs. Although in his sixties, Lord McGhie’s stick-work is as immaculate as ever. And today his colleagues at the Grange are playing with him in a series of matches to celebrate his 40th season as a club player.
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Hide AdAlthough these days he tends to turn out for the seventh XI, Lord McGhie is known for his clean hitting, tactical nous and enviable fitness. Afterwards members will retire to the club’s Edwardian Pavilion in the heart of Edinburgh for some hard-earned refreshment.
Police deployed in force during feverish Kirrie poll
Lord Lyell of Kinnordy, the Tory peer with a fine estate in Angus, has given a dramatic illustration of the great passions that were aroused during the referendum campaign. In a recent House of Lords debate, Lyell (right) described his astonishment at the dramatic security operation that had been required at his local polling station as “feelings ran very high”.
“In my little town of Kirrie – known to the rest of the world as Kirriemuir – never in my 74 years have I seen not one or two, but four policemen at the town hall where the vote was taking place,” said Lord Lyell, somewhat aghast.
‘
Boondocks intellectual’ reveals true intelligence
When he stands up in the House of Lords, Lord Lyell takes great delight in describing his ancestral home near Kirriemuir as the “boondocks of Scotland”. Giving his metropolitan colleagues a further idea of its remoteness, he remarked: “To the real happiness of the government whips who have tried to find me, I live about one station before Vladivostok.”
Out in the wilds of Angus the noble lord claims to be “regarded as something of an intellectual”. His claim made during a debate on devolution came with a caveat that the impression of towering intellect was mistaken. “They are quite wrong,” he said, explaining that it was reading the Financial Times, which gave him his spurious air of learning.
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