I was out and about in a neighbouring town this morning collecting some shoes from the only remaining shoe repairer of any worth in the district this morning, and I was reminded of why February always seems the bleakest month. Having to wait around for buses in the pouring rain in the freezing cold, reminds us, that the west of scotland, whatever the tourist boards would have you believe, is not always the best place to be. Better though by far, then being banged up in Guantanamo bay on the word of some bounty hunter intent on making a personal fortune for himself or his clan, as reported by an American law professor earlier in the week, better also, then the fate of the film director, Michael Winterbottom and his team, detained under the PTA whilst on the way to attending an awards ceremony for a film made about Guantanamo. You increasingly get the feeling that february rain is symbolic of a more profound chill that is settling over our once rather innocent societies.