An old ghillie from Mull had been around for many, many years and never been seen without his customary "fore-and-aft bunnett". (Sherlock type deerstalker hat to you southerners).
Then one night he walked into the public bar of the Mishnish Hotel and to everyone's astonishment he was bare-headed, folks who had known him for years never recognised him at first.
Davie! they said, what's happened to your bunnett?
Ah, he said with a very sad expression, I havnae worn it since the accident.
There was an accident???
Aye, said Davie, it was a filthy day and I had the flaps down. One of the toffs offered me a nip o' his hip flask and I never heard him, he shook his head in sorrow.
