Read to the end, there is a joke. Promise

So I was on the 501 from Castle Douglas to Dumfries on Saturday, a pleasant enough trip with what felt like an unnecessary deviation via Dalbeattie. Is there ever a good reason to go to Dalbeattie?

Anyway, I digress. The bus was quite busy and I sat next to an old boy who was quietly reading a book; head down, trying to avoid any hullabaloo known as “other people”.

A rather fetching dachshund (short-haired) sporting a green bow tie boarded near the Haugh of Urr and sniffed my trainers, revelling in the scent-borne news from Castle Douglas. At our unnecessary midpoint of Dalbeattie, two ladies expertly alit, making their way from the back of the bus without spilling any of their beer, rasping out their goodbyes in gravelly voices that would have made Bonnie Tyler swell with pride. The bus set off, the driver skilfully managing to avoid running our ladies as they raised their cans in a salute. A quick once around Dalbeattie for no new passengers and we were back on the road to Dumfries, with a not unpleasant saunter through Kirkgunzeon ahead.

Allow me an aside; Kirkgunzeon always feels like two places. Was that the case in the past? Historians I need your insights.

Back on track, but sticking with history, I was wondering at the lovely countryside, having experienced hail, rain and brilliant sunshine in the space of an hour and my mind wandered to 1991s pure pop hit, “Sunshine on a Rainy Day” by Zoë. This led my gaze over the pages of the book my older gentleman fellow rider was reading. “Rasputin”

As we neared my stop in Dumfries, I pointed at his book and commented, “History buff, eh?”

“Oh yes”, he replied.

“And how long have you been a Boney-M fan?”

“Whit?”

It didn’t land well. I amused myself, but probably scared or at best bamboozled an auld boy that just wanted some peace.