Spurred on by the needs of my recently widowed friend who lives a mile or so out of town and can’t drive, I’ve been getting about more than usual and last night did something I wouldn’t normally have contemplated - attend the ceremony for the making of new Burgesses. Friend was singing in ‘The Big Choir’ which is a happy band of people who like singing but don’t want to join the excellent, but very formal, established town choir for which one has to be able to read music. The BC had been asked to provide some entertainment at this occasion and I thought they were brilliant; they sing with their whole bodies. The formal choir doesn’t. When it lurches from classical into Spirituals or Blues territory it’s a bit painful. I’m almost tempted to join the BC but years of asthma and necessary medication have given me a voice like a frog. Or toad. Anyway it’s a shame because  they made me want to sing.

The other entertainment was - no surprise - a piper. Now I can enjoy a good blast on the pipes, even in an enclosed space, but this lad went on and on until I thought I’d have to shoot the airbag or crawl out on my hands and knees before I got a migraine. Lots of feet were tapping and he got huge applause so it was only me suffering.

Though the Charter-giving ceremony itself was rather lacking in dignity and, well, ceremony, it was quite touching. The six worthies had their good works read out and very worthy they all are of the honour. I felt quite moved. The making of Burgesses has been going on for at least 500 years, maybe longer, though there seem not to be any records. The first charter giving the town the town the title of Burgh was probably given in 1140 by King David, the revised version defining the rights and privileges of  the burgh in 1496 by James IV.  This acknowledgement of the people who work hard for the town probably would have been celebrated at the Riding of the Marches, but last night we just sat in a Church on uncomfortable pews.

Half way through - and this for me was the real highlight - I had a unusually clear vision of the area in which I have been living for 25 years; the sturdy core of born and bred locals, the Scottish incomers, the English incomers,  the incomers from overseas who come and go, some staying (often to their own surprise) have given this little town a distinctive character. The local people are rooted and secure enough in their identity that, with the occasional pulling in of horns, they are prepared to welcome their incomers with interest and even affection. It makes for a satisfying textural mix. I think I’ve finally found somewhere I feel I belong.

PS: I don't put the name of the town because I want to avoid Googlers - can't feel free to say what I like if it's going to be too accessible.