We Scots tend to be a bit gloomy in our outlook. This is particularly true at this time of year when the Winter equinox is fast approaching. The bad weather has been a great stimulus for starting conversations and Anne commented last week that it's definitely had the effect of binding people together in adversity. Neighbours have been really good and seem to be looking out for one another.
We seem to have taken the utter failure of our transport system in our stride. Bread, milk and petrol shortages barely meritted a mention. The single topic of conversation in which I've detected an undertone of slight panic is that some branches of Greggs the Bakers have been unable to open because of staff being unable to get to work. Three separate, otherwise rational human beings have told me that they're convinced that this is one of the signs that the Apocalypse is imminent.
Seeing as this is meant to be a crime fiction related blog I thought I'd share another sign of the times. Every year around the festivive season one of the straitlaced medical journals I have to browse in the course of my work comes up with a bit of Christmas light-heartedness. For the first time ever the BMJ has contributed not only to Medical Knowledge but also the world of Sherlockiana.
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