The weather looks a bit better outside, shall we go to Crostanachan Park today?
The Good Lady looked up from the big foldy paper map she had sequestered from the eighties and had been examining gleefully for the past hour.
And what is Crostanachan Park?
I replied more than a little sulkily having been thoroughly rained, hailed and snowed on for most of the last few days.
It's a wildlife park. Up in the hills. Quite high up in fact. Ooh, maybe we will get some proper snow!
The Good Lady clucked a little and shuffled her bottom as if trying to turn an egg she was warming.
No fucking thank you. I don't want to be driving up the side of a snowy mountain.
I pulled my phone out and pretended I had some kind of internet connection which allowed me to claim POLYCUB tokens.
Alas, I didn't.
Oh come on Daddy-Bear? It's a wildlife park. The kids will love it!
She yawped indignantly, the thought of the kids being put out in any way being grossly offensive to her.
I am sure the kids will much prefer being alive and not buried under a drift of snow in an upturned car in a ditch by the side of the road whilst I bleed out futilely trying to explain to them how to claim the Polycub airdrop.
I harrumphed with frustration like a Bison scratching at his fifth lottery scratchcard in a row without a win.
Polycub? That weird lion-king coin? Oh god, you are not still whining about that are you?
The Good Lady shook her head at the ways of those who do DeFi.
No. I am not bothered about that at all. I am bothered about coming off a mountain road in the snow and plummeting to a frozen crumpled death.
I made a face like a little Italian Pensioner lady peering at her knitting.
But didn't you say you were the King of the Drivers?
The Good Lady sniffed innocently as if she hadn't just dropped a mic in a rap battle.
Yes, I am. I just can't be bothered driving up a mountain. It sounds rubbish, it will be freezing. Why don't we go to that Distillery nearby? You can buy whisky that no human has ever seen before!
I fluttered my eyelashes like a British drama school graduate.
We are not going to a distillery. How would that be fun for the kids?
She gave me the iron eye.
I sighed. Not going to the Distillery, what was the point of being Scottish if you didn't go to a Distillery?
Give me one good reason why this place is so good.
I smirked. There was nothing she could say to that. Absolutely nothing.
It's got a white peacock.
The Good Lady smiled back smugly.
A what?
A white peacock. Quite magnificent so they say.
She flapped her old fashioned map around like a shit bird with one wing trying to fly.
There is no such thing as a white peacock. Peacocks are a lovely sort of blue with lots of long feathers that look like eyes which are also sort of blue.
I said this with the certainty of a Scotsman who had never been to the Americas where they say that anything is possible.
I mean, there are many things in the world that are white. White paper, white powder, white appliances, white supremacists... But a white peacock? Utter nonsense.
Come on, it might have those goats with the big horns that you like?
The Good Lady started trying to fold the map but only succeeded in making it bigger with more sides than was physically possible.
Oh alright then.
I huffed and stood up to get the car keys.
A little later we were walking around the famed Crostanachan Park.
We rounded a corner and our two children pointed straight ahead and squealed with astonishment.
See, a white peacock.
The Good Lady purred with an obvious sense of victory.
I rumpled my brow and squinted at the bird before us before shaking my head.
That my dear, is an Ostrich.
