When I was 16 or 17 I had one of those little 50cc mopeds - a Suzuki AP50 if you're interested. One Saturday or Sunday I decided to ride from Livingston to Callander to look in on my Dad's old Uncle Don. But when I got to his house the woman who answered the door said he'd died a couple of years earlier but she had no details because she'd never met him. The thing is that when I got back to Livingston I was shown a family picture and the woman who answered the door was in it; older but definitely her. We knew Betty Wilson had been staying with Uncle Don. Why would she lie? To a large extent you can choose your friends but not your family.