Forget me not – in praise of a daft wee floor

Funny it is at this time of year when the Forget me Not flowers start to blossom that a silly joke made by a friend who has been dead some five years now comes to mind. So Russell Young, late of Gairney Bank, fellow dog-walker, neighbour and friend, where ever you are I miss your company.

A silly wee bloo floor.

This piece of ancient graffiti caught my eye this morning, Boggs X-Hill carved into the bark of a Beech tree. I take it X-Hill is short for Crosshill, which is a former coal mining village near Lochgelly in Fife. What is so remarkable now is that no one ever carves their name into trees anymore, suitors usually carve their loves into Facebook these days rather than trees, children no longer seem to go forth on bikes to explore the countryside in fear of the big bad pedophile / bogey-man and probably more to the point, it is an offence to carry a knife these days in Scotland without a reasonable excuse.

Boggs X-Hill

More tomorrow no doubt. My 18 day break is drawing to a close and it will soon be time to go back to work and profess my love for the Yankee-Dollar. Watch this space…

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