Back to School

School’s back. Ugh. I woke up after dreaming that I was playing a gig with Donal and he’d plugged his guitar into the wrong thing. I must be anxious about Saturday. In fact I know I’m anxious about Saturday. I should watch Get Back and remind myself that I love playing.

It’s fucking pelting down today. I got up around 8 because school starts back today for Hamish and he said he’d have boiled eggs. Len got him out in the car and just texted to say that she’s stuck at the pharmacy with a flat battery. I asked if she wanted me to call Chris to come out and jump it, but she said no because it’s raining. She’s the boss. So she’s going to walk home in the rain (without her big jacket) and go via the post office to post lateral flow tests to her mum. That’s why she was at the pharmacy. I think it’s her third attempt to get them but it’s been closed because of the fucking Christmas bollocks. At least that’s all by now. Thank FUCK for that.

I sent my virtual assitant, Anri, a couple of messages on Slack about her scriptwriting and she’s responded that she’s going to start moving them into GMT. I thought she’d already done that. God, I’m such a crap manager. I just want to be left alone but still have everything done for me just as I like it. That’s just silly, isn’t it? It’s time for me to step up.

Stew from Foster put up an annual review and linked to the template he used. It’s really fucking long. It’s by Anthony Gustin and is here. So I continued going through my DayOne and making notes. I got to the first week in March. Long way to go, although I think my long-form writing started dwindling round about then. There is a bunch of hand-written ones coming up though, when I was sitting out on the porch in the good weather. God, that seems unimaginable right now.

I’m enjoying going through Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. I’m on day 3 now and am pretty sure that I’m going to buy a subscription. But speaking of subscriptions, I had to withdraw £1k from the ISA yesterday because we’re about to go overdrawn. Can I just remind you how much I fucking hate Christmas? Yep, January, the dark month, storms and credit card bills and tax payments.

Anyway, I’m in the present now. I don’t need to dwell on that, do I? I need to dwell on getting through my to-dos and making some money on GMT. I almost started editing a video yesterday, then discovered that Anri had mixed up the JBL soundbars and also there was no video asset for it, so I bailed on it and played Rock School instead. Then I decided to write to her and let her know about the mix up, so that’s a growth thing for me, then put it on ice and start to work on the next one. I didn’t actually start work on the next one, but at least I know what I’m doing today.

I wish I knew how to change the notification email address for GMT. Right now they’re coming into my gmail and it’s a pain in the arse because I keep thinking that my main channel is growing and it isn’t. I’ll look into that again once I get off this writing session. Let’s BuJo it.

I managed to get through another day of keto yesterday and this morning my sugar was 8, so higher than yesterday. And I got up the hill.

Nickey Sketchley, the diabetic nurse, didn’t give me any grief at my appointment yesterday so I’m pretty pleased about that. I was sure she would mention it. It was a pretty standard appointment really. I won’t get the results till next week. Wednesday I think we agreed. How come it takes so long?

Ealána texted to ask about how to pay me for the guitar strings and said she’s looking forward to Saturday. I’m expecting them to cancel it, but maybe not. It’s going to be a quiet one for sure. I think my last gig before lockdown 1.0 was in January and it was pretty busy, but then it wasn’t pandemic time.

It’s nice not feeling depressed. I think doing the Sam Harris meditation when Hamish goes out to school is a good time.

It’s going to be challenging working while Freya’s home. I might have to hunt Len into the bedroom so I can record. That’s going to be just the kind of thing that makes me not produce anything. Honestly, any little thing. I should really have been recording a voiceover this morning so I can edit, but I daren’t start now as she’ll be coming in the door any minute.

12:33 I got the next voiceover done like a boss! Len actually came in the door as I was about to record the last couple of paragraphs, but she went out into the garden to clear the grass and I just got it done! Then I spent about an hour trying to change the notification email address for my GMT videos, added my GMT email to the Windows mail app and then had breakfast. I did get the email changed. Uncofirmed as yet, as I’ve not had any new subs since I fixed it, but I’m confident it’ll work.

Prianka’s been putting out business videos and I find them inspiring. Not so much the content, but her workflow and how she goes all-in. She doesn’t seem to let her mood or her introversion stand in her way of just doing the thing. Having her as a friend is one of the best things that came out of last year.

Okay, time to take Clovey up the hill. It’s clearing up a bit outside, thank God. It was brutal earlier.

Looking down at my wet boots next to a flow of water over what's normally the path up the hill.
God bless Gore-Tex!

Please Let our Young Musicians Practice!

Freya, March 2020, before the lockdown.

Our daughter is 16 and left home to do her last two years of high school at Douglas Academy. She made this sacrifice so that she could follow her dreams of being a professional musician. Douglas Academy has one of the best music departments in the country and it was a real challenge getting in.

Now that she’s there, she finds herself in the position of not being able to practice. This is because of rules laid down the local authority that dictate that brass, wind and choral musicians are not permitted to practice. I don’t know the actual laws and regulations so I can’t quote them. What I do know is that pupils in residence in other council areas in Scotland don’t have this pointless restriction, eg. Aberdeen and Edinburgh.

One of the parents has started a petition to the Scottish Government to have this restriction reversed.

The school and residence have both set up practice and performance areas that are completely compliant with social distancing restrictions. Naturally both these institutions are duty-bound to follow local restrictions, even when they make no sense.

Here’s what the young people say in the petition:

We have given up a lot in order to pursue our dreams of becoming professional musicians, spending every week away from our own homes and families. Please help us persuade Education Scotland, the Scottish Government and the councils which run our school and residence to recognise our unique situation and let us do our music practice in the same way that other pupils are allowed to. If not, all the years of hard work and commitment we have put into music will be wasted.

Lots of kids don’t want to do their music practice. But we really do. Please help us!

Douglas Academy Pupils


Freya’s Class – Where are the wind instruments?

Here is a direct link to the petition, followed by an embedded Facebook post of mine that you can use to sign directly from there. It won’t cost you anything but a minute or two of your time and it might just made a difference!

Petition page on

Call to #Hive Community

Hive is an awesome decentralised blogging platform and I just know that if I ask the #Hivearmy to come together and help out with a Hive Five and a signature, they will! So, how about it Hiveans?

Petition Link

Austin A30

Here’s another of my dad’s cars from the 1950s, parked outside the house where I grew up. It has an Ayrshire registration from 1953-54, according to That, together with the chrome grille and the small rear window, identify this as an Austin A30, rather than the A35 which was later developed from it. 803cc engine; Austin’s first post-war small car design, introduced as a 1951 model (immediately after the war the pre-war Austin 8 had been revived but for a few years Austin had no car in this segment at all).

RIP Wee Mum

Dear family and friends, most of you already know that my mum died yesterday and I’d like to thank you for your kind words. She was an incredibly brave and fiercely independent woman and she was and will remain a constant inspiration to me. When I think my life is hard, I just think of her and get some instant perspective.

She was diagnosed with MS in the 80s and we watched her slowly deteriorate over the years. By the time my dad died in 2009, she was almost completely immobile and yet, with the assistance of the wonders of technology, the incredible services of South Ayrshire’s carers and some financial support from the MS Society, she was able to go on living in her house independently right up until the end.

She and I used to share Audible accounts for audiobooks and she was often calling to let me know that she’d run out of books, so I’d log in and we’d talk through titles and have some good banter. When speaking on the phone you would have no idea of how her body had failed her. Her mind was sharp, and so was her tongue, as many carers learned to their chagrin over the years!

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know where she got her strength from. Maybe we all have that in us. I remember going through many years of orthopaedic surgery and rehab and people telling me I was strong, but it never really felt that way. But to be fair, I was in my late teens / early 20s at the time and it doesn’t really compare to years and years of immobility. So, you see? She really was a remarkable woman.

She missed dad every day after he died. It was a life-long love that never dwindled and it was after his death that her body began to decline quicker than before. Never her mind though.

She was taken into hospital in early June with an infection, confused and weak. Although the infection did clear up, she never regained enough strength to go back home. We had started the process of looking for a nursing home, but she never really wanted that and I didn’t think she would be here long enough, but we still had to go through the motions. She was just done, you know? Each time I went to visit, she would be in and out of sleep and saying that she just wanted to be with dad. And d’you know, that was okay with me.

It was a comfort for me that it was the summer holidays as it meant that the whole family could visit mum with me, even though we were often only in for five minutes because mum wasn’t up to it. On the last day I saw her, I had Freya with me and that helped so much. I think Freya’s got some of my mum’s spirit in her too and it’s a delight as a father to see that strength coming out for the first time. It was lovely to meet my cousin Louise too after such a long time and I know my mum was happy to see her.

I knew that mum was gone before I got the call at the back of 3 in the morning. I knew because she came to say goodbye. I woke up and she was there in the room, a shimmer of light, and so I got up and got dressed because I just knew. I like that we had that connection. I was on the sofa reading when the phone rang.

I got the first ferry over – again, summer holidays, early boat – thanks mum! I arrived at my brother’s just in time to see wee Matthew heading out for his first day of nursery school. So on the day my mum died, her great grandson started nursery and that was about the best thing that could’ve happened. I saw the cycle of life right there.

Lorraine’s been absolutely brilliant through this whole time, so compassionate and loving. She’s running the shop today so I can have some time to deal with this chapter of my life, even though she’s as tired as I. I did consider not waking her after the phone call from the hospital, but only for about 20 seconds. We sat talking and drinking tea through the night until I had to head off for the early boat. It’s little things like that, you know?

Brian and Lynn have been fantastic too. They’re there on the mainland taking care of things today and we’re in constant contact. We managed to get all the registrations done and the funeral arranged in one day yesterday, which was quite a remarkable feat.

I have a charity tin for the MS Society at the post office and I’ve asked Lorraine if she would sit it somewhere prominent. If anyone reading could see their way to putting a pound in the tin, I’d be very grateful. We’ll have a collection plate for the same charity at mum’s funeral. It’s a horrid, horrid illness and it would be nice to think that one day we’d be able to do something about it.

And thank you to Diane for being so compassionate and resilient, letting me have time away to visit mum and running the shop for me, even with her arm in plaster and a sprained ankle! I’m so glad she chinned me on the doorstep that day looking for some part-time hours!

And so, the funeral. Mum was a member of Prestwick South Church, where both I and my brother were married, so it’s only right that mum’s service is held there. It’s arranged for Friday 26 August at 10:30 a.m., thence to New Monkton cemetery where she’ll be buried alongside dad. Everyone’s invited to join us after that at the Carlton Hotel on Ayr Road, Prestwick Toll for a buffet lunch.

I’ll be closing the post office at 12 on Thursday as we’re all going over on the 13:50 boat so I can go and see mum at the funeral home that afternoon and spend some time with the family that evening.

The last time the whole family visited, mum was awake long enough to ask for a photo of her with the kids and she smiled when I showed it to her. I think she’d be happy with me sharing it, and I’d like to, so I have.

Guitar-playing Dad

Rather than reading Catch 22 or the photography book I paid £20-odd quid for this morning to read on the boat, I thought I’d write something that was inspired by Write for your Life episode 101. Creation’s better for the soul than consumption, right? In that episode, host Iain Broome was talking about how he can’t read when he’s tired and can’t stay awake in bed for longer than three minutes. Rather than talk about how I deal with that (answer: audiobooks!), I’m going to talk about what I’ve referred to as my number one passion since I was 21, playing guitar.

When my daughter was born in 2004, I was already obsessed with guitar. I had by then bought and sold a few high-end guitars, was moderator on a couple of guitar forums (remember them?) and even ran one of my own. How good my day was was determined by how much practice time I had managed to fit in that day. We lived in Luxembourg then and it’s a very family oriented country. Parental rights of employees are very generous and so I found myself doing the modern dad thing, working part time or from home. So I was home and able to play a lot while Freya slept or watched CBeebies or Baby Einstein.

In October 2004 I made my first trip to Atlanta to meet a bunch of online friends IRL and it was utterly fantastic. (2007 jam photos) I went every year for the next five years after that, as well as a two-week trip to Steve Kaufman’s Acoustic Kamp in Tennessee. These were good times. Something that stood out to me in both places was the large number of 50-something dads with high-end guitars who were just getting back into playing after a long hiatus while their kids were growing up. I remember thinking to myself that I would never let that happen to me. I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. I had a kid and was playing more than ever, right? My son was born in 2006 and, same deal – play, travel, buy, sell, chat, moderate. Guitars were everything.

We left Luxembourg and moved to Arran in 2008 to take on a new business and that’s when things began to change. I started experiencing a lot of what Iain talks about in episode 10. I was too tired at the end of the day to play anything and, for the first six months, I don’t think I played for more than half an hour. But the passion began to come back slowly. I recall one evening sitting by the coal fire, getting out the guitar and playing some of my trickiest material. Much to my surprise, my playing was just about as good as ever, undoubtedly caused by the fact that I was hearing my guitar for the first time in months and in such a romantic and calming atmosphere. It never sounded so sweet.

So, problem solved? Well, kind of. My playing went from strength to strength. I got asked into a bluegrass band and had some of the best musical experiences I’d ever had, playing local village halls and opening for bigger acts like Phil Cunningham & Aly Bain and Lunasa. The Atlanta jams had stopped happening since I moved to Arran, which, selfishly, was kind of good for me as there’s no way I’d have been able to go anyway. But good fortune shone my way and the host jam, Little Brother, decided to have another one in the October when I was to turn 40. So, I gigged hard that summer, playing local hotels three nights a week and putting all the earnings into my plane ticket. And what jam it was! It was one of the best experiences of my life, to have made such good friends and get to see them all again in one of my favourite places for my birthday. And my playing then was probably as good as it’s ever been.

After that I was feeling burned out. I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and the meds were making me tired and depressed. I came off the strong pain killers that had been propping me up for so long and the guitar playing started to suffer. When I was asked about the following summer’s playing schedule, I opted out. If I wasn’t in bed for 10 o’clock, the tiredness became overwhelming and gigging though the week would mean getting home at midnight or later.

Last year I had a few fairly high profile gigs and they didn’t go great. Well, in actual fact they were probably fine, but my fear prevented me from enjoying them. Family life was okay because I was now home most evenings and getting to see the kids and I was happiest staying home at nights. I’ve hardly played my guitar at all this year. I’ve felt the passion stirring when I’m out listening to music on my headphones and walking the dogs, but I’ve been getting increasingly bitter about being in middle age and not having created anything. I was listening to Fatboy Slim of all people, loving it and wondering why the hell I’d never created anything like that. I’m a talented musician, but in terms of creativity, I suck. So I began to look more towards my second hobby, photography. Like music, it is also all consuming, at least for me anyway. But it has the advantage of making me feel that I’m creating something.

And now I’m at a crossroads again. I have family and work commitments, as well as a podcast subscription list that gives me no breathing space at all during the day. My reading list is also long, but I’m struggling to get to any of that now. But why the crossroads? Well, my good friend and fellow musician that I played in the bluegrass band with has asked me to join him in a new band. I didn’t think I wanted it, but as soon as he suggested it, I got a little glow in my tummy. This guy is one of the best fiddle players I’ve ever heard and, without rhetoric, this could be the chance of a lifetime for me. I know I can commit, and stick to it. Ask my masonic brethren. My worry is the fear. I’m feeling all right just now, but I’ve felt all right before and had the fear come back. I think what I’ll have to do is get back on top of my life again. Cutting back on the podcasts would help (not yours of course Iain!). If only Myke bloody Hurley would stop putting out so much good content! I think that getting on and staying on top will keep the fear at bay. I know that because it has worked before. And better attendance of AA meetings will help too. I reached eight years last month and still need the meetings to keep the darkness away.

Thinking back to what prompted this post, I think what I’ll have to do is start scheduling things in my life again. I did it before for a few months and it was surprisingly effective. I’ll make a weekly schedule of repeating tasks and take care of things in bite-sized chunks. So, rather than reading none of Catch 22 each day because I want a decent sized chunk of time to enjoy it, I’ll allow myself to tick the box after having read only two pages. Rather than practising a song until it’s perfect, I’ll practice for 10 minutes then check the box. Last time I did this, the 10 minutes often turned into 30 or more, but the fact that 10 minutes allowed me to tick the box made me far more likely to pick it up in the first place. What can I say? I’m a box ticker. I think the advice that Iain put into his Room 101 of ‘just write’ or ‘bums on seats’ in this case can work. Schedule 10 minutes of writing time, be sure to do it at a time of day when you know you’re not going to be sleepy (tea time’s the worst for me) and write for 10 minutes. It might become 30 minutes or more, and it might not.

Music gives me hope

I watched When Albums Ruled the World on the BBC last night and it was one of those documentaries that has stayed with me into the next day. It charts the rise of the album from the single and talks about some of the music that was made possible only by the LP. One of the ideas that stood out for me was that LP collections were like the working man’s art collection. It said so much about you.

I came of age around 1980 and, although I did have a few LPs on vinyl, I was much more of the cassette tape generation. I’ve had headphones on pretty much since the early 80s and I was pondering that just recently as I listened to music on my iPhone whilst out with the dogs. I had on my sound-isolation headphones and I felt like I had arrived; things can stop progressing now, because it just doesn’t get any better. No more tape hiss, no more tape jams!

Then came CDs and I bought them and bought them and bought them. I now have hundreds and hundreds of them in the attic, all ripped into a lossless format and filed away as needless physical media. Nobody can come to my house now and see who I am through my music collection unless they sit down at my computer, and that’s pretty unlikely. I pretty much exclusively buy music now on iTunes or the Amazon mp3 store, or I listen on Spotify. That change has come only in the last few years, since iTunes did away with DRM. And now we have iTunes Match, which I absolutely love!

As I watched the documentary, I found myself thinking of my two children and I was filled with such hope for the future. And that is what music has always given me: hope. I don’t know why; I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the idea that my kids can do anything they choose to do. If they can find something they love and always get to do that, they can be much happier than I. They can consume, but they also need not fear creating. Maybe that’s it.

So I had the idea of sitting my kids down and listening to albums with them, but as I walked the dogs this morning I realised that that just wouldn’t work. I have to let them find their own music, which undoubtedly they will, just as I did, and what I listen to will perhaps influence their tastes a little, but they won’t realise it until they’re much older. What I should do is make sure I play more music in the house that I currently do. I spend so much time listening to podcasts and audiobooks that music seems to take a back seat. I’d like to change that. I’ll stick to shows with Merlin in them, because they’re so helpful, and ditch the rest. Yeah, that makes sense.

My first Tech Tuesday →

> I’m going to have to learn that we are both going to have to be flexible. Snowpea is not going to want to do everything that I want him to want to do. And I’m going to have to do things with him that he wants to do that I don’t particularly want to do, i.e. anything crafty or arty such as building a robot from his Robots book.

> But honestly, at six years of age, I think that whatever we do will be good, even if it’s just messing around with a camera or a Web site. It’s going to be good for us both to spend Tuesdays together and I’m already looking forward to next week!

We’re homeschooling our son. He was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome earlier in the year, which wasn’t as much of a relief as we’d expected, because we already knew. But the diagnosis is helpful, not least of all because it helped with the process of taking him out of school.

Creativity and Homeschooling

Is it a cop-out to copy? I’ve been thinking about this for a while. This time I’m thinking about it in the context of guitar playing, which is the context in which I think about this more often than any other.

I just heard Hymn 11, by Pierre Bensusan, used as part of a video photo montage showcasing the Soviet invasion of Prague in 1968.

[Link to YouTube]


Isn’t copying the best way to learn? Sure it is. But I’m now at the stage in my guitar playing that I am competent enough to create, rather than copy.

If you look through the magazines, you’ll find the pages filled with tablature of popular songs. Look in a music section of a book store and you’ll see books upon books of chord and tab books.

But is that not the case with classical sheet music as well? And don’t symphony orchestras make a lifetime out of performing classical music?


Where symphony orchestras are concerned, it is the conductor who plays the most important role. So, although the musicians are playing the music as it was composed by the composer, there is infinite room for movement, for interpretation.

And with popular songs, some cover versions are preferred over the originals, i.e. Hurt, originally written and recorded by Trent Reznor and then recorded by Johnny Cash. The JC version is invariably the one that people have heard, and, indeed, the one that I play. Incidentally, I was into Nine Inch Nails long before I stared listening to Johnny Cash!

[Me playing Hurt]


I got my chops from learning songs that I liked. I guess that’s the route to learning any instrument: get inspired enough to want to learn to do what your favourite artists do. But where does that end? When does one stop copying and start creating? Or are copying and creating inextricably intertwined?


I often feel so incredibly inspired that I sit down and attempt to create. I’ve done this countless times. I’ve come up with some interesting tunes, but whenever I try to put words to it, they fall apart into embarrassments. I don’t know what it is that prevents me from writing lyrics that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to share.

My autistic 6-year-old son is heavily into a computer game called [Everybody Edits]:(5). He gets excited and shouts me through to hear his ‘new songs’. What he’s done is create music using some sort of building blocks based on well-known classical tunes. At least as far as I can gather. He was raised on the Baby Einstein classical music videos and recognises a lot of it now. It’s his favourite kind of music to listen to as well.

We’re home-schooling him now and it is my plan to teach him Garage Band on the iPad to see what kind of things he can come up with. I want to encourage his creativity before it gets stifled. I don’t think he’ll have the patience for much else. He much prefers doing something, so having him listen to music and explain to him won’t be possible right now.

I’m sure this will be and interesting a project to me as it is to him.

The Opening Ceremony

I’ve never watched an Olympic opening ceremony before. Nor have I ever watched any of the Olympic sports. I’ve always been as anti-sports as one can be. This time, it’s different.


I’m now a father of two. I began thinking about this year’s Olympics when my 7-year-old daughter came home all excited because she’d been learning about it in school. So I bought her a London 1948 T-shirt from Next and she wore it proudly. She would come home from school full of Olympic facts. In fact, last night she asked me if I had a favourite swimmer! In short, she now knows far more than I do about the Olympics, although to be fair, that wouldn’t be hard! Her favourite swimmer by the way is Rebecca Adlington.

I thought I would make a special effort to watch the opening ceremony with the kids. We got into the living room bang on 9 with the dishes washed, kids showered and a cup of coffee for me.


I found myself getting emotional right from the very start, and that surprised me. The whole idea of the Olympics, that unifying global experience, suddenly became clear to me. And I’d never felt that before. Music and technology can make me feel that way, but sports never have.

The spectacle was quintessentially British, peppered with history, music and humour. Mr Bean’s appearance was pure genius, bringing to mind Comic Relief. The choice of British TV shows and music to feature was very well made. Sure, some of the music wasn’t to my particular tastes, but it spread a thin layer over all the genres, decades and age-groups without any lumpy bits. And I suppose that playing the Pistols’ Pretty Vacant rather than God Save the Queen was the right choice to make!

Freya (now 8) was mesmerised by the whole thing, and even Hamish (6) was reasonably interested, although he did get bored eventually. Freya stayed up until the Cs in the athletes’ parade and went to bed around Croatia.

But she was straight back into it this morning when she got up and was desperately searching for the Mr Bean bit when I left for work. And that shows just how right that decision was. They could have have chosen to feature any of the great British comedies: Black Adder, Fawlty Towers and Monty Python to name but a few. But the choice of Mr Bean tickles the kids. Even Hamish was laughing away at that. And the international appeal of Mr Bean goes far and beyond that of any other British comedy character. I remember hearing my landlady in Odessa, Ukraine chuckling away at Mr Bean when I spent my gap year there.

JK Rowling

And how about that children’s literature sequence! Absolutely brilliant! Although, as Freya pointed out, wouldn’t Dr Who have been a better choice than Mary Poppins to save the day? I agreed. Imagine the sound of the TARDIS echoing around the stadium. Now THAT would have been something!

Having JK Rowling reading was another well-made choice. She is responsible for getting so many people—yes, people, not just kids—interested in reading books.


It took me a long time to get the power of Twitter, but if I hadn’t grokked it before, I certainly did last night. Following the stream of Tweets made the whole thing feel more global. I follow a lot of tech nerds in the USA and when they came on-stream it was a lot of fun. And whereas I’m usually following some Apple event or other US-centric thing, it was nice to be following a UK-based event.


I was surprised on Twitter to see so many haters. I suppose experience should tell me that the Internet is full of haters—just take a look at YouTube comments to see that in full force—but to see it when I’m in such an emotionally good place, well, it just surprised me, that’s all.


So now I get the Olympics. It brings together the world in a way that predates technology. Differences are put aside as the world’s athletes come together to compete in a global event. And the Internet is just the icing on the cake, bringing us all together for a shared experience.

The whole event made me feel proud to be British! And to spend the ceremony cuddled up on the sofa with Freya, and mum and Hamish on the other sofa made this a moment that I shall never forget.

Hamish takes 1st prize!


Hamish took first prize as the Highway (Code) Man at the fancy dress parade last week as part of the Heather Queen event. Lorraine outdid herself this year with her creativity. Freya’s standing behind dressed as Rapunzel. I’m proud of you all!