WHILST sitting on a bus recently at traffic lights, in an “escape-Brexit-dwam”, I happened to see a man walking his wee dog. The man disappeared around a corner, the dog stayed sniffing and doing what "man-doggies" do. Presumably the man felt that the extending lead had more or less run out as he came back around the corner, walked back to the little dog, who was still busy leaving his calling-cards, and bent down and tenderly stroked his head. The dog looked up at the man, then they set off again.

The bus carried on and I returned to my dwam, but day-dreamed of much nicer things than escaping Brexit. After the news in the past few days I prefer to think of that man and his wee dug.

Thelma Edwards,

Old Comrades Hall,

Hume, Kelso.