On Monday, my hostess took me to an wine and cheese evening at a church on York Place. My hostess had been invited by her boss, a Director-General in the Scottish Government and a stalwart of that congregation.
No matter that I don’t eat cheese, do not recall ever encountering pleasant-tasting wine and am an atheist (as is my hostess).
During the evening, I was introduced to a Scottish chief constable and we shook hands. I managed not to incriminate myself and we moved on.
On the bus home, I phoned my parents to tell them about the evening. I told my my dad that I’d shaken hands with a chief constable. Without any pause, he replied ‘did you count your fingers afterwards?’
I fell about laughing. Dad, that was bloody fantastic and I love you for it.