May 2025

THE Independent used to have a weekly poem, and in one, entitled Scotland, the poet wakes up on a spring day, flings back the curtains to reveal blue skies, and goes for a walk along a country road, filled with the joy of life.

All around, birds are singing their little hearts out, daffodils are nodding in the balmy breeze, happy folks are mowing their lawns and all is well with the world.

Then, in the distance, he sees a stooped old woman clad all in black making her way slowly and painfully down the road towards him, and as she gets closer and closer, he sees that she’s muttering to herself.

As she passes him, he hears that what she’s muttering is: “We’ll pay for this. We’ll pay for this.”

She obviously wasn’t a microlight pilot on her way to the airfield, since it’s been the best spell of weather since last summer, which as you may remember was on a Thursday, but only in the afternoon.

So if you see her, tell her to get onto the BMAA website, find her nearest school, and book a lesson. That’ll cheer her up.