Shopping Cart -

Your cart is currently empty.
Upgrade to today
for only an extra Cxx.xx

You get:

plus This issue of xxxxxxxxxxx.
plus Instant access to the latest issue of 410+ of our top selling titles.
plus Unlimited access to 33000+ back issues
plus No contract or commitment. If you decide that PocketmagsPlus is not for you, you can cancel your monthly subscription online at any time. Auto-renews at $17.99 per month, unless cancelled.
Upgrade for $1.48
Then just $17.99 / month. Cancel anytime.
Learn more
Pocketmags Digital Magazines
Pocketmags Digital Magazines
   You are currently viewing the Australia version of the site.
Would you like to switch to your local site?
Read anywhere Read anywhere
Ways to pay Pocketmags Payment Types
Trusted site
At Pocketmags you get
Secure Billing
Great Offers
Web & App Reader
Gifting Options
Loyalty Points

Gentle on my Mind

EVER SINCE I became bionic there’s been a constant need to stare at my feet as I walk; I’ve tripped over invisible cigarette packets, skited inexorably down the shiny paving stones of Alloa High Street praying for a wall to bring me to a halt, done an involuntary dressage more than once in the Thistle Centre of Stirling, got four faults and no Victor Ludorum, when my leg fell off on the stairs in Alloa Sheriff Court and knotted myself when my thigh sleeve wrinkled and talked to me, loudly, in company, in short, sharp gasps. Try explaining that one diplomatically. Of course there’s been as many high points as low - I’ve marvelled at minnows in French waters lapping around my painted plastic toes, counted my blessings which number far more than the five feet I currently have, and I’m officially endowed with double spider senses as I’m into leg number 17. I take photos of my two feet on beaches all over Scotland, because I can. I sport a nice little high heel often and I know I’m Rocky running up those steps in Philadelphia when I manage to walk out my front door dressed to kill, wrinkles, bingo wings and all.

There was a year when I wasn’t allowed to drive and my licence became restricted to automatic only; a pure scunner because I loved my manual convertible and knowing I’d never drive it again drove me temporarily insane. But I got a licence and a car which wasn’t a boring safe old Saab with multiple airbags and I knew then, if not before, how lucky I am.

Purchase options below
Find the complete article and many more in this issue of iScot Magazine - Issue 57 October/November
If you own the issue, Login to read the full article now.
Single Digital Issue
Issue 57 October/November
Read Now
Getting free sample issues is easy, but we need to add it to an account to read, so please follow the instructions to read your free issue today.
Email Address
This issue and other back issues are not included in a new iScot Magazine subscription. Subscriptions include the latest regular issue and new issues released during your subscription.
Annual Digital Subscription
Only $ 4.58 per issue
Monthly Digital Subscription
Only $ 6.99 per issue

View Issues

About iScot Magazine

The one with the 'Sneering Brittannia' on the front cover. Enjoy this cornucopia of Celtic content and read about the real Scotland from a Scottish lens.

Other Articles in this Issue

Welcome to issue 57 of our award winning iScot Magazine.
An independent publication celebrating the innovation
IT WOULD be fair to say Chris Deerin is hard to pigeon
Twitter @Jeggit
I NEVER embraced the idea of Scotland being a colony
DURING the Queen’s Speech debate in mid-October, SNP
SINCE ITS D-Day launch in 2018 the Scottish Independence
Twitter @RabBrucesSpider
ACCORDING to our First Minister, we are still (at the
THERE IS AN old Scots saying that could not be more
(noun: (in Japan) death caused by overwork or job-related exhaustion)
A new look at the city through the photographs of Allan Wright and the poetry of Gerda Stevenson
WE ARE APROACHING the 2020s, yet often it feels as
“FOR AGES an army of spirits, once so near, has been
EVER SINCE I became bionic there’s been a constant
WELL, WHAT CAN I SAY, except that yet again it’s been
I’D NEVER EVEN heard of Josephine Tey until four years
THE USHER HALL is well-filled, despite the £100 ticket
UNTIL THE day the sun fell from the sky, no monk of
Alex J. Craig reviews A Treachery of Spies by Manda
Heed my wisdom and I’ll make it stop
GREAT mysteries can be hidden in arcane documents