One particularly windy day last week I went for a walk through Aberdeen. As I trotted along minding my own business something flew past my face – it came out of nowhere and grazed my cheek. “A bullet!” I instantly thought to myself. I understood in that split second what it felt like to be shot, but more importantly, I understood what it felt like to survive.
I would later discover that a strong breeze had blown a balled up sheet of paper past my head and that no-one had actually tried to kill me, but I will always remember how I felt during those few seconds.
I am the 50-Cent of the North East of Scotland.