A familiar sight for Edinburgh folk heading home from work across the Meadows on a late summer’s afternoon. I have always admired those splendid chaps in their green uniforms and eagle feathers in their bonnets. The Queen’s Bodyguard in Scotland, practising the noble art of archery in an effort to keep her majesty safe when she does her annual flying visit to distant Caledonia, God bless her.
We kept any pheasants or partridges and hare but got fed up of eating rabbits however they were cooked. I made pate with the livers. Rabbits were my mainstay and I traded them with the local butcher for a selection of butcher meat, eggs and tomatoes. He gave me a generous exchange rate and I went home with a bag of meat and no rabbits that I had to skin.
The wee boy on the left hand side of the photo, with the baggy breeks, fierce expression and kirby grip in his hair, is me, young Bob Redwater. My Ma told me, “If you don’t want to get your haircut, then you’ll need to wear one of your sister’s hair grips to keep your hair out of your eyes or you’ll go blind”. “Okay” I said to my Ma, “I don’t care”. I was a thrawn child, stubborn as a mule.