My great grandad, the blacksmith, was a colourful character. My dad learnt this on qualifying as a doctor in 1943 and completing his statutory 2 years practice back in Ayrshire. As he went on his rounds, he would be hailed by the title of “auld Will’s grandson’ and entertained with stories of what “auld Will” used to get up to.
One such story was related to when my great grandad would go into town to have a few drinks at the pub. Sometimes he’d be having such a high time that he’d stay all night and walk the few miles back in the morning (neighbours told how they would see him from their windows; striding home as they were starting breakfast ). He’d know he was being watched though and, ever the showman, would demonstrate how he still had his faculties by vaulting over the garden gate.