A whole week has elapsed and no-one has written about the AGM cum Burns Night supper (minus haggis) which conveniently whiled away the last Friday evening but one. Little happens at AGM's - at least not very often. People get elected, usually nem com and sometimes without their being there (though we do ascertain they will stand beforehand). Your Chairman therefore remains as does your secretary but at Treasurer there has been a reshuffle. Portfolios have been switched. The new Chancellor of the burgeoning CADS Treasury is Chris Bumstead, PSLB having decided after four years that it was time to hang up his calculator. He has been made publicity officer instead and will soon be writing to everyone.

After the AGM, we retired to the home of those well known purveyors of generous hospitality, Jim and Brenda Grove where Robert Burns was read in a variety of accents, and so, for some reason, was William McGonagall, (O beautiful bridge o'er the silvery Tay') who might well have commented thus.

It was on the 25th of January at seven thirty in the night
That members of CADS sat down to put their club to right
It was of course the time for the annual meeting
At which there was some laughter and not much weeping.

And after the Chairman had been duly elected
And last years minutes had been duly corrected
The meeting adjourned to premises warmer
Where we all drank some whisky and thought of the fauna.

Wee sleekit, cowrin' tim'rous beastie
What mad panic's in thy breastie'
Wrote Mr Burns when out ploughing he encountered a mouse
In a note that he wrote when he returned to the house.