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The Weekly Blog

Noah’s Loo Roll

Last night I broke cover in order to buy some milk. For the first time in forty days and forty nights, I noted that Sainsburys in Kelso had a stock of loo rolls. Two whole pallets full.

Like Noah’s dove, heralding the end of the flood, I returned home with a four-pack in my beak…

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The Weekly Blog

What Goes On Behind Closed Doors?

The secret development of new products takes place behind closed doors. Peace talks, war planning and matters of national security take place behind closed doors. My more exciting friends tell me that romantic liaisons frequently take place in the open air – but that they also occur (more regularly) behind closed doors.

Given that so many exciting things already happen behind closed doors, why not horseracing too?

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The Weekly Blog

Explosive News

My favourite story about Berwick-upon-Tweed revolves around the fact that some people believe the town has been at war with Russia for more than 150 years. So I was alarmed, but not totally surprised, this week when I heard that an attempt had been made to blow up the train station: the opening salvo of any invasion is to knock out the key transport links…

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The Weekly Blog

About Time

I don’t wear a watch, preferring instead to allow my body-clock to perceive time through the motion of the Earth as it orbits the Sun. It’s a primeval instinct that all of us were born with, but few people depend upon.

No one, who knows me well, is terribly surprised when I turn up late almost everywhere that I go…

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The Weekly Blog

Giving Up

I’m giving up. No not betting on racehorses, or even giving dubious tips – I’m giving up crisps… And drinking alcohol (but only at home – because it’s boring to go out with friends and watch them laugh at things that are only funny after you’ve had a pint).

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The Weekly Blog

Lovebirds

Today being Valentines Day, it seemed an appropriate time to report that there are some gorgeous birds at Kelso Racecourse. But before male readers get any ideas about rushing down to the track, I should point out that this is not a dating hotspot. The twig-legged beauties at the racecourse are strictly monogamous.

And despite a reputation for dining on aphrodisiac oysters, these particular love-birds are more partial to eating worms…

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