The Stones of Destiny

Meet William Wallace, master stonemason; a man happy in his work, with ten functioning fingers and only one black nail, despite his vigour with the lethal hammer and chisel.

He is building gate posts at the foot of a path running through our estate and which will have a gate which may or may not be opened onto the Meadows. I feel sure someone knows its destiny, but they're not telling the residents.

It could be said that the stones of destiny are under his chisel.

I spent a lovely morning with two Gaelic speaking neighbours, who fortunately also speaks English, and an American one, when the subjects ranged from religion to the benefits of knowing from a DNA test whether you were of Celtic, Pictish or Viking stock, with the Kilmartin Glen standing stones and the road up Bealach na Ba being thrown into the melting pot of conversation.

It's not every coffee morning that is so interesting, with sunshine streaming through the windows as an added bonus. The boffins have got it wrong again.