Restless Native: Allan Brown: Hill peaks with a mountain of tips

Fruit & Nut, bars of: “Perfect for providing energy and less bulky than Curly Wurlys.”

Socks, giant, hairy: “These are invaluable for the serious climber, the bigger, the better. When Rasmussen climbed the north face of K3 in 1968, his socks were so big he could use them as sleeping bags.”

Nepalese man, tiny, wrinkled: “No serious climber would set off without a tiny wrinkled man from Nepal to guide them. They’re absolutely essential, and also very good for making mysterious philosophical remarks when you reach the summit. I remember when I climbed Arthur’s Seat in 1983, Tae-Ling turned to me and said: ‘The top is sometimes the bottom.’ I’ve never forgotten that.”

Excuses, hopelessly lame: “Perfect for when every emergency service in the Highlands is sent out to find you. Many climbers find making vague remarks about a twisted ankle does the trick.”

The plinth, though, did not have sufficient space for a plaque explaining who the subject actually was, at least to the satisfaction of his greatest admirers. Plainly distraught, Bob Watt, of the Friends of Robert Fergusson (they must be some age by now), plans to stick a plaque containing a telephone number on the statue, in the hope that viewers will call to learn about the poet’s life. “With most statues you just see the person’s name and after the unveiling they are completely forgotten about and people walk past them not having a clue what they did,” said Watt.

“I want people to know how he influenced Scotland’s poets, including Burns.”

I rather suspect the number will connect to Bob’s home line so he can arrange to meet interested parties down the pub to discuss iambic pentameter and show them his cagoule collection. Stranger things have happened.

Welcome back, Mr Pict; we’ve missed you.