I am surrounded by Castles; either, the real kind, active as a genuine fortress up until 1603, or partly decorative, but still well-built, just to be on the safe side. Around East Lothian, it seems that every bit of land has the remnant of a fortified structure and of course, one cannot help asking the question, "Why?". Further down the coast in Northumberland you can find more castles than anywhere in England.
However loved and adored by his own clan, whose interests he protected, Johnnie Armstrong was an example of a dying age, a violent age of confrontation and sudden, violent death that had no place in the march of civilisation and the eventual emergence of true democracy, where the well-being of everyone, not the well-armed belligerent few, were paramount.
If only Bob Crowe understood this.
(If you do not know who Bob Crowe is, try googling him, but remember, some papers have retreated to a fortress of their own, the odious paywall, an affront to the democratic machinery of the fourth estate and dead cheeky, given that most of the material has been cut and pasted anyway.)