Flat start to my street surgery sessions

Well, letters were duly posted to all the streets in Gala I would journey to with bruv driver Tony for my Easter street surgeries.

Plans had been laid and those letters made it clear that for the timing of my arrival everyone should look out for the blue Volkswagen. Ah, but the best-laid plans etc....

On day one – Penicuik – I had just stepped into the caravanette when I complained to Tony that I felt a bit unsafe. Now this was more than usual because Tony can drive like a demented demon at times.

First stop was Penicuik Tesco when, low and behold, we beheld a flat tyre. My concerns vindicated, we plumped for Kwikfit next door and the chaps there were ace, adding that the other front wheel was cracked. The van was exchanged PDQ.

Thus it came to pass that in Gala (day two) we were pootering around in a white Volkswagen and, as my late mother used to say, I wish I had a £1 for everyone who asked me where the blue van was.

However, the proverbial biscuit was taken by the man who enquired about the missing “purple” van. Whit?

Three gripes and you’re out

Now some folk, getting up close and personal at last with their MSP, took the chance to give me all their complaints.

So regrettably, but in the interests of those waiting to clamber aboard my mobile office, I made it a rule of three gripes – and no more. Never to be defeated, however, one constituent put his third complaint into two parts. Ah well...

Grin and bear it

Ok, so the A7 leaves wir cars looking as if we’ve been taking part in war games – and no matter how many road sweepers are put out, it’ll never be enough to do the job.

Besides, you then get stuck behind a road sweeper doing, if you’re lucky, 10mph and then, of course, there’s all those temporary traffic lights.

Ah, but this time next year those trains will be running and I have high hopes for the Borders economy. Actually, every black cloud etc. – and I see a new car wash has opened up just as you exit Gala on the A7. So that’s one business up – more to come.


Speaking of which, I visited Luigi (Gala), Scottish Barber of the Year, though some constituents looked puzzled when I waved to them from the premises. And, yes, I do pay for my hairstyle, though don’t blame Luigi!