You have to feel sorry for the leader of the Scottish Nationalists, Alex Salmond. Only a few weeks ago, he was urging the Scots to break free of British fetters and join Iceland, Ireland and Norway in the 'arc of prosperity'. You couldn't make it up. It's cold out there, Duncan. Maybe you should stay in the tent. At least until the storm blows over. Meanwhile, the two leading Scots in the British government appear to have pulled the entire Scottish banking industry out of a huge hole. Using English money of course. There goes Scottish independence. Not that the canny Scots were ever going to vote for it in the first place. Perhaps Mr Salmond can now get on with more important things. Like staying in power with a majorty of one.

This article on the new realities in the UK could well be entitled British Banks get Boring again.

Failing to find the Wifi café I was looking for last night, I made do with a new bar offering a connection . . .

Good evening, sir. What can I get you?
I’d like a glass of Mencia, please.
. . . . .
I’m afraid we don’t have Mencia, sir.
OK, I’ll have a Rioja
. . . . .
We only serve Rioja in these small bottles, sir.
That’s too much. I have to drive. Do you have Albariño?
Yes, sir.
OK, I’ll have a glass of that.
. . . . .
I’m sorry, sir but the Albariño is warm.
OK, can you bring me a gin and tonic?
Yes, sir.
. . . . .
Which brand of gin would you like, sir?
Tanqueray, please.
. . . . .
I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have Tanqueray.
OK, bring me a Gordons, please.
. . . . .
Yes, we have Gordons, sir. Would you like the blue or the normal?
The normal, please.
. . . . .

My drink is finally brought by the owner, who apologises for the fact the Albariño is warm and offers me a cheese sandwich and some olives ‘in compensation’. Unfortunately, I'm not partial to either of these items but thank her anyway. The gin and tonic costs me five times the price of the coffee I’d planned to have but, given the size of Spanish measures, I couldn’t care less by the time I’ve finished it. The alcoholic content is, of course, far greater than that of the small bottle of Rioja I rejected. I have grave doubts the bar will survive and it would be churlish of me to name it. However, I will say it’s an “Irish bar”. Next to another one, which was rather fuller.
I wonder why.