WHEN I arrived at my wee holiday house this weekend, waiting for me on the gate was one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever been given in 61 years.

I thank whoever the blessed person is who took the time to paint such a stunning image on a Scottish stone and deliver the “YES” treasure to an overtly “more YES than ever” cottage.

The post person rarely has reason to visit, so this beauteous artifact has waited patiently for me since my last visit a few weeks ago. I will never know how long it waited to receive my joy and uplift my spirit. That this glorious gesture followed a very different experience the previous weekend at my home in Edinburgh made it all the more poignant.

While planting pansies in my front garden on Saturday March 30, I was asked if I had “a couple of minutes” by my next-door neighbour. I will not fill The National’s precious letters columns with all the details, other than to say that I was told in no uncertain terms that this was not “Westminster or Holyrood, it was a residential area” and that for reasons that I will never understand (nor probably want to) my European-starred Saltire, proudly flying in the garden, was supposedly unacceptable to a recently bereaved woman who lives opposite.

As a psychotherapist I was not fooled by him projecting his dislike of my lovely flag, raised to mark White Rose Day, on to someone else.

Oh, the irony that my husband and I had chosen to mark the end of democracy in Scotland to be told by an Englishman that my “Braveheart” exhibit was not welcome in EH10.

It is therefore heartfelt thanks that I send to whoever in Carnoustie, Angus appreciates the messages on my windows and the Saltires flying in my garden there.

Jenny Pearson
Edinburgh