NOVEMBER: Orkney. It’s breezy up here in the Northern Isles. You need to have your hat firmly fixed to your heid before you venture out in the gales with the dog. Furthermore, you need to have your spectacles nailed to your nut, lest they are soon gone with the wind as well.
People up here still talk in hushed tones about the gales of 1953, when roofs took flight, accompanied by garden sheds and flying chickens. In fact, the 1953 gales marked the end of a once-thriving poultry business in Orkney. People in the deep “sooth”- ie the central belt – who complain about “gales” (which are actually harmless breezes) are regarded in the North as being rather effete. So there.