The pits shut. They kept the coal.

Kelty's a pit village beside the M90 whose big day out is the Scottish coal-carrying championships: grown adults running up the street with a sack of coal on their backs. It looks like a shite afternoon. People turn up for it anyway. The pits are long gone. The coal stayed for the race. Kelty Hearts, the Maroon Machine, came from nowhere up the leagues, so that's the other thing to talk about.

The deliberate fires come in at more than twice the typical Scottish town's rate, and the grass at four times. The storm overflows spill for three and a half times as long as the typical town's, and the sun manages 1,324 hours a year. Pure dreich.

The editor, who wouldn't carry the coal