Halloo, is anyone there?

When I woke up on Saturday, I realised that I did not have any idea what I would be getting up to over my weekend. The weather was fine, the birds were chirping, Mitzy was barking like a nutcase - it was good to be alive.

So when AB and I found out that Betty was disappearing to the shops with her brother and his wife to do the weekly grocery shopping, we wondered what that meant for us. If we didn't speak up, we were going to be left behind to spend a sunshine-filled day indoors. So we pounced, and got a lift into Bridge of Weir, one village over from ours. I'd never been in the main street of Bridge of Weir any longer than it takes me to post a letter. Literally. So it seemed like a place to explore. Even on a weekend.

What I've come to realise is that unlike Paris, that never sleeps, Scotland really is a 'Monday to Friday, 9-5' kind of country. And Bridge of Weir, while charming, is no exception - definite and strict opening/closing hours apply here. Just because the bakery is open, doesn't mean it's going to have anything to buy in there.

But I come to work today and my boss assures me - straight faced and all - that Bridge of Weir is one of the most sought-after places to live in Scotland. The quality of life is high, and the quality of public schooling is even higher. Who knew?