Off colour

I'm under attack by virus. It wasn't a good day for certain would-be customers to visit. A Frenchman wanted to know why St. Laurence is the patron saint of Forres. I have no idea. Then he asked what the symbols are in the Forres coat of arms on which the saint takes centre stage. Well, in one hand he holds the iron bedstead on which he was martyred by roasting to death, so that's easily explained and much better forgotten. In the other hand he holds a Bible and that's OK ,although he may have escaped a roasting if he had let go of it. But why are a sun and crescent moon hanging alongside him? Search me. I don't have the right sort of enquiring mind to satisfy the historians sadly. I sent him to the Museum.

My lack of sympathy for martyrs made me a social outcast one memorable occasion in the Abbey on Iona. The day was wet and I thought I might as well sit in for a service going on in a side chapel. The service involved the uncomfortable modern 'turn round and meet your neighbour' moment. The woman next to me turned expectantly to ask me where I had come from, what I was doing etc. I was honest about the wet day and the vague idea I had had that being present during a service might be an interesting experience outside my normal range, so that was already disconcerting for her. When it was my turn to ask her she told me rather stiffly she was going to be a missionary. The thought crossed my mind: ' That's brave, but it seems to me missionaries do more harm than good, and don't they often come to a sticky end?' The thought didn't encounter any brain cells on its way to my mouth so I said it. It turned out to be a gathering of people about to go out into the Third World on Missionaries work. Tea and biscuits were offered after the praying and singing, but everyone gave me a wide berth.

The next chap through the door today wanted something about the Burma Campaign. I tried to look intelligent, hoped I was looking in the right area, and not making it too obvious I have no idea about the Burma Campaign nor could I care less, (although I do see it has some relevance to the present situation. Seems that Burma was like Belgium - a piece of land to be stomped over by warring factions wanting it as an access or just as extra territory to make a big power bigger. Messy.)

I have learned to respect the folk who are interested in the world wars because they either fought in them or lost family during the course of them, but it took a me while to overcome an abhorence for the war-tourists who see the 'show' as a Schoolboys Own adventure. Still, my no doubt naive disapproval has to be stifled if there's a sale to be made.

There was also the bi-annual visit from a couple of men who always make me wonder if they are a couple. In their 60's, obviously English, they travel North mainly to visit bookshops. Each time they come by they spend a very long time browsing, exclaiming all the while to to each other over editions, one reminding the other: 'You have that one... got it in old so and so's, don't you remember?' I'm not sure they have ever bought a book in here but they both think they have.

No matter. The books like to be browsed.