The Marcliffe is saved! Now, who can afford a round of drinks to celebrate?

Davinia Smythe-Barrett – ordinary mum

There was SO much relief in the Smythe-Barrett household when we heard the news this week. Our ordinary world has been returned to normal. Thank the Lord, the Marcliffe is staying open! It doesn’t just mean the preservation of a local institution, and a much loved iconic building, even more importantly, my yogic embroidery classes can now be moved back from Airyhall Library (ghastly).

Hubby remains in Belize for fiscal reasons – taxation rather than procurator – so won’t be able to enjoy the fundraising dinner I’m going to with the girls next month at the Marcliffe. It’s for Sierra Leone, which I understand is absolutely horrid at the moment. But if we all dig deep we can really make a difference, and transform it into a much better place. That’s why we’re raising money to help build a luxury gated resort and spa there. Transformational change is so important. As are new and exclusive holiday destinations. i know what you’re thinking; ‘Davinia, you’re too selfless, you can’t save the world all on your own.’ Well, maybe not, but you have to try. You know?

PC Bobby Constable, (retired). Former Community Policeman

I see in the paper that 30 heavily pregnant sheep hiv been stolen fae a farm at Kemnay. Absolutely shocking stuff. Imagine the distress of these poor, innocent animals as they were smuggled off in the dead of night. They should have been left unmolested, to live in peace. Because if mankind cannot live in harmony wi’ nature, then truly there is no future for us. And also because if you upset them, the meat gets a’ tough and stringy.

The local bobbies say they are interested in 4 x 4 vehicle wi’ trailer that was seen at the locus, and in the circumstances, that certainly seems mair sensible than

looking for a push-bike wi’ a basket on the front. But if they want the advice o’ a seasoned law enforcement professional, they should stake-oot the condiments aisle o’ the Co-opie in High Street, and lift faiver buys the maist mint sauce.

Fan I wis on the force I spent maist o’ my time patrolling the mean streets o’ Hazelheid, but I also hid a few postings to the sticks. Rural policing is nae the cushy number you might think. A lot o’ the time you are having to deal wi’ isolation. I kent it wizna going to be for me fan I got to the station in Maud and discovered the nearest bookies wiz an hour’s drive away. And of course as a toonser there is awyse the potential for making a feel o’ yerself when you dinna understand country wyes. One time, a fermer phoned to say his cows had been taen from his field. I turned up to investigate. “Weel” says he, “were my cattle rustled?” “Dinna ask me”, I says, “I wiz miles away, how would I ken fit noise they made?”

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who gets into them, heid first

There was shocking scenes this week down at Villa Park in the FA cup quarter final when the home fans done a pitch evasion. Believe me you, I understand how emulsions can run high, but there is never no excuse for anoraky. Fans should only enter the hollowed turf if their team has actually won something. Or if they are on their way to give the ref a hiding.

Speaking of refs, Craig Thomson will want to go into hiding after his howler at Tannadice at the weekend. There was a bit of a commotion between United and Celtic players after Scott Brown played his joker, which allows him to half someone without getting booked. The whistler and his linesman sent off Celtic’s Dick van Dyke but they gave the wrong United player his jotters!

Unfunnily enough, Old Kenny was once the victim of a case of mis-shapen identikit. I was playing for Locos against Brora when i went to clean out their striker, but before I could get a stud on him my pal Dunter Duncan got there first. The ref jumped to the wrong contusion and he says to me, he says “Sorry Kenny, you’ve got to go”. I was raging and I says to him, I says “I can’t believe you’re sending me off for nothing!” Still, I had the last laugh. On my way to the dug-out I nutted their winger, so the red card didn’t go to waste.