Tribal

God love him, but he must be the world's worst drummer. It's not for the want of practice either, he's banging away on his instrument most days, gien it laldy on the streets of Stirling and frightening entertaining the shoppers. When I asked if he minded me taking a shot or two he asked my name then proceeded to batter away at his bongo shouting "BRIAN!"...bump... bu-bump... bump... "BRIIIII-AAANN". Sounded like someone stuck in a wheelie bin as it went arse over tit down a giant staircase. Could still hear him belting that out as I headed over and stood at the bus stop. He looks happy in his job though, and seems to have made his mind up about Thursday's referendum.

A frustrating day either side of this, with me getting spectacularly locked out of my MacBook, spending an hour on online support chatting (to a nice chap called Scottie) about the problem, then being told I'd need to go to an Apple Authorised Centre to fix it, only to turn up at the one they recommended and be told they couldn't do anything and I'd have to head into Glasgow. Returned on the mankiest bus ever to try and book a Genius but finding not a slot available, then hung around well after knocking off time to try and salvage something from the day, wondering what I was going to do without access to my machine. Got home, fired up the computer, and, after a few wrong guesses and restarts, discovered a PIN code that I had no recollection of ever setting up got me back up and running. Mightily relieved as had visions of wiping the whole thing and starting over.