Today would have been my mum's 100th birthday had she lived, so I took it on myself to go on a reflective gravestone cleaning mission down in the East Neuk of Fife. There lie most of my forebears, many of the two families being buried not very far apart in the same cemetery. I parked in the nearby car park and shuffled into the cemetery carrying an orange B&Q bucket, some water and cleaning materials. I'm self aware enough to know I must've looked a bit odd, like some professional grave stone cleaner or perhaps a weird ghoul who likes things spik and span. I'm neither, I just have dose of seasonally acquired central Scotland guilt that needs exorcising every now and then. I did my bit and left feeling I'd done a nice thing. I'm not so bad a person perhaps.
I then pondered using the remaining cleaning materials on grimy and neglected road signs on the way home. I quickly realised that this was a bad idea. I know people do that kind of thing; sign vigilantes. Also people go out and correct grammatical errors on signs and company hoardings. While I share the urge to do these things from time to time, I've still some self control left. My grave concerns are not quite grave enough and my hi-vis jacket was in the other car.
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