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Living up here in Scotland after spending most of my life in England, you catch yourself being quite puzzled by the really small differences that a few hundred miles can introduce. Occasional words that are different, that get dropped into conversation are one thing. Bank notes are another.

So it’s the Bank notes that are currently fascinating me again. I’ve grown used to them, and much prefer the variety to the English ones. A general lack of royal family imagery is another plus in my view, although one of the bank notes featured a rather pink and purple Queen mother some years back, and they pass (briefly) through my wallet. Last in, first out applies quite strictly.

Clydesdale bank seems to be the predominant note. Most of the large banks pump out these notes, and I popped along to Lloyds Bank on St Vincent street earlier, when we were in town shopping. It was just around the corner from another bank that had a huge queue. Are people oblivious to the fact that you can use other cash machines than your own bank? Or is it just that folk like queuing rather than christmas shopping? Probably the latter to be honest.

Anyway, I received a nice crisp set of Clydesdale notes, including the classic Robert The Bruce £20 note, and a couple of Mary Slessor £10 notes. Jump forward a few hours, and we’re in a restaurant chatting away and I asked if anybody knows who Mary Slessor is? Nobody seemed to. She sits there, staring back at half of Scotland, and the people I’m with don’t really have much of an idea.

I have to say, the choice of people on the English notes is usually quite easy. Charles Darwin, Elgar, George Stephenson, Charles Dickens, to name but a few off the cuff. Scotland is not in the slightest bit short of famous people, but Mary Slessor seems an odd choice. A missionary, it transpires, to Nigeria with an admirable amount of bottle, to challenge local traditions and garner a lot of respect in her adoptive nation, and upset a few of her contemporaries by living with the locals. But I’m still puzzled by the Clydesdale’s choice when there is such a rich variety of people to choose from who have contributed more to the country, or culture in more constructive ways. That’s not to demean what she did (although I’m sure she force-fed the bible into a fair few people in her time, which could hardly be described as ‘constructive’ or ‘educational’ in my view). It’s just I don’t think ‘missionary’ is a great achievement, much less to be daubed across bank notes. Scientist. Engineer. Philosopher. Writer. Nurse. Doctor. Teacher. All these are further up the tree in my view. But that’s just me… It does take all sorts, and putting her on the note might persuade a few folk to look up and find out more about a part of their history. But given the complete lack of knowledge about her achievements amongst my sample (admittedly small: the three of us and a couple of waiters), it’s hardly doing her fame any good other than being ‘the woman on the £10 note’.

Our conversation was held in 1901 just around the corner from where we live in Shawlands, Glasgow. We’d not been there in a while, and had a marvellous Sunday meal for a reasonable price (£10.95 for two courses: I had soup and the roast (Pork) which was very nice indeed), with excellent beer (Timothy Taylor’s Landlords, perhaps my favourite beer, and it was extremely good tonight). Highly recommended.

The only downer in it all is my leg is still hurting. I went for a run this morning, but I’m still having trouble despite a two week hiatus. Bit worried the shoes I have may be to blame, or my posture, or the (slight) camber on the road in Pollok park. So I’ve decided I’m to take it easy and not push matters at all. Back to basics. That said, the thin ice on the road was a novelty, and I’m not sure I’m so excited about the fact that the winter is only really just coming upon us…

OK, ramble over. Off to bed. ttfn.