This week I rifle through the linen cupboard. Liberating sheets. Unearthing the odd blanket or two.
These are items that have been there forever. They have been carted round the country to various abodes.
They are things that are never used. But are kept because they might come in handy one day.
Well, the day is here. They are placed in bags and put in the back of the car.
Good, warm clothes
Then there are the clothes. Two waterproof jackets, one green, one red, bought and never worn.
Three thick fishing jerseys. Which leaves me with two – after all, who needs more than two?!
There is a pair of wellingtons, also never used. And some fur lined boots, ordered last year and too small for my size six and halves.
So much stuff, just gathering dust at the back of the cupboard.
The chief, too, offers to have a clear out. And among his finds are a dozen pairs of long woolly socks.
Practical and useful
Back in the day they were knitted by his grandmother. They are clean, ultra thick, and guaranteed to keep a toe or two warm.
The MacGregor also discovers a couple of heavy jerseys. There is a nearly new tweed coat and a pair of unworn desert boots.
I am not sure how much use the latter will be in cold weather. Come summer, though, someone may be glad of them.
There is the paracetamol, the bars of soap and the tubes of toothpaste.
It is all destined for a lorry. A wagon that will carry supplies to the border of Ukraine. But first it must be taken to a collection point.
The Ukranian Chapel
The Ukranian Chapel sits just outside Lockerbie. It is a tiny, ornate place of worship in what was once a simple corrugated hut.
This wee church was fashioned in the 1940s during World War Two by prisoners of war who were interned locally.
I have filmed there several times and it has always struck me as a place of quiet contemplation. But not this time.
This time, lines of cars are waiting to get near. Because it is not just us wanting to help the refugees coming across the Ukranian border.
They, like me, have come to offer assistance. Because this is not just a drop-off. Those that can stay spend several hours sorting, packing and labelling.
‘This is my favourite bear’
Folk have sent warm clothes and shoes. They have given medicines and baby stuff. Among the toys is a teddy with a wee note attached.
‘This is my favourite bear. Please look after him.’
People have been so incredibly generous. We might feel helpless, but we can do something.
For my part, I may have precious few nails left, but there is a sense of purpose in this.
These are really tough times over there. And all over Scotland, folk are doing their bit.
They are donating and organising. They are coming together to do what they can.
Because sometimes, thoughts and prayers, welcome as they are, are simply not quite enough…
