Often wrong, seldom in doubt.

Cath and I got married in Glasgow. At the time we lived in a rented flat in a beautiful red sandstone building in an up-market situation in the West End. Indeed, it was the type of Victorian tenement for which Glasgow is famous. We chose this dwelling deliberately because many family and friends were travelling some distance for our wedding and we wanted a reasonable abode in which to welcome and entertain them. The only problem was that the rent was way beyond our means and so, soon after our wedding, we moved into cheaper hospital accommodation in Ayrshire where Cath was doing a surgical rotation. I use the term `accommodation’ fairly loosely to describe a dilapidated prefabricated box on bricks that was barely large enough to turn around in. Cath summed up the situation by asking bitterly ‘So is this what married life is meant to be like?’ As it turned out, Ayr wasn’t so bad. We discovered that our location was close to the Burn’s Cottage where Scotland’s national poet, Robbie Burns...