I am lucky enough to live in a small village in rural Perthshire and whilst not quite in the middle of nowhere, it’s at least a half hour in any direction before I’d stumble across a McDonalds. Now that alone should add more to the value of a house than having a Waitrose in the postcode and even though the nearest one of them is in Stirling, I still reckon my small corner in the shire of Perth is pretty much next to priceless.

Despite this rural idyll, I encounter the brown paper bags adorned with the golden arches logo and accompanying detritus strewn along the edges of the road that cuts through the village with disappointing and increasing regularity. It’s not like Ronald McDonald is responsible for all the rubbish occupying the verges and ditches but his packaging is perhaps the one that stands out and bewilders me most – as I can’t foresee any way possible for the contents to have been anything other than stone cold by the time they were consumed – presumably a few short seconds before the remnants were tossed from a passing car.

Being a naturally picturesque part of the world, this wee bit of hill and glen also attracts plenty walkers (with and without dogs – and we’ll get to the latter of them shortly), cyclists, horses and riders, and when the snow falls even the occasional skier to the surrounding hills. By and large there is no shortage of parking and I’m delighted to see the car parks almost continuously full and especially at the weekends and bank holidays.

However, like the........

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