A man’s a man for a’ that … Or something
That awkward moment when your neighbour knocks on your door and asks if, ‘just today perhaps’, what with it being Burn’s Night, you would ‘consider singing something by Burns instead of all those Gaelic songs you use to sing’.
I guess I should have realised that they probably could hear me sing if I could hear my downstairs neighbour’s parrot blether away to itself most hours of the day.
In other news, I need to move and never, ever show my face in Braehead again.
