Making a Scottish Hunting Sporran?

[Rahere]

Rereading this made me review my definition of hardarse. I mean, I'm a descendant of St Magnus of Orkney, our family became a legend of the Clearances because when the Redcoats tried to drive the Gunns into the sea, we hauled as many as possible into the boats and sailed faster and further than they could march. A day south took us to Newcastle, where we turned collier to London, based out of Great Yarmouth, the halfway point. (you're home twice as often). We have a Navy nickname, and my first training was with the Royal Marines, aged 10.

During my time in officer training, I proved unbreakable in interrogation, had no trouble sleeping in the snow, and had a mindset which was very carefully checked through by one of the SAS. Eventually they offered me a job I ghosted on, because I'd discovered what had happened by getting the other side to talk. Silence is golden in some cases. I later showed them how to do it, becoming a legend among the legends - memories of my two year old daughter bouncing on the knee of the guy who invented the flashbang! Precious.

Does that make me hardarse? Well, I'm impatient with teenage woofters, candyarses. I passed out top of my Platoon Commanders class at the School of Infantry, having "wiped out" a platoon of gurkhas by precision timing in exercise. I've raised MI5 flags four times, satisfying them every time, the last time so solidly I suspect they know I know. I'm the only spouse ever to meet the Rosenberg interdiction standard. Perhaps I am. But then again, I wouldn't know, would I?

Edited December 26, 2020 by Rahere