None of us were given the rules but most of us figured out the important ones along the way You don't tug on superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger And you don't mess around with Jim or drink his Kool-Aid either You've got to know when to hold 'em Know when to fold 'em Know when to walk away And know when to run You never count your money When you're sittin' at the table there were more rules too but I never learned them and none of my friends did either.

If you stayed at Villa Nina Guest House in Leamington Terrace--and slept under the monkey puzzle tree, or were near enough to smell the McEwan's mash on brewing day, or went to the Edinburgh Booker cash and carry for a flat of eggs or a tin of sweets, or crossed the Bruntsfield Links (where nobody ever plays golf but some occasionally engage in medieval swordplay), or ducked under the whale's jawbone arch when exiting Middle Meadow Walk you met Dr Spiegeli. It's not that he was actually in all of those places all the time, but his sense of humour was as ubiquitous as porridge.  And to understand him you need to understand real Scottish oatmeal--not that he served it in his B&B, but his spirit was pervasive like the porridge, and his laugh was contagious and his smile wicked and bewitching and infectious.  Now it's time to remember some aspects of Dr Spegeli. Pinhead and Aga cookers and spurtle sticks When you are going to make a good Scottish porr...