Sorry seems to be the hardest word

About 20 years ago, my dear old dad handed me a vanilla brown A4 envelope . . . with the all dispassion of passing me over a chocolate biscuit. “What’s this?”I asked.

“That’s all the details of the lair,”he fired back.“Lair?” “Aye son, you’ll be in charge of putting me beside your mother . . .”

It’s now moved to at least five different homes since, - but, thank God - the envelope remains unopened.

The word‘lair’has given me the heebie-jeebies ever since. And it did again last week when I read about the torment of families whose loved ones may be in the water-filled‘lairs’at Ayr Cemetery. They are angry at the lack of communication from South Ayrshire Council about what’s happening to these graves. SAC’s response was to claim they had“written directly”to the families involved.

The families say they would have thought a phone call was more appropriate. I say these people deserve nothing less than a personal visit, if not from an SAC employee – then at least a councillor. They also deserve a full explanation as to how this happened, how it’s being remedied . . . and who is to blame.

Some personal concern, some personal reassurance and a personal apology are in order here. And the complete lack of it is shameful.