Kill Barchan

Cycling through the once lovely little village of Kilbarchan, where the Scoto-Irish saint, Barchan, made his cell way back in the 5-600s, I struggle to comprehend the sheer amount of cars, whether parked on pavements right up against the village's colourful cottages or clogging the tight artery that sweeps right though the village's heart. Even the short bypass they made, presumably to avoid cars coming through the mercat cross, has not seemingly worked, since the cross is permanently stuffed with cars. Cycling down from the carless plateau above Kilbarchan, where Barchan too had many a pastoral and contemplative excursion, this car nonsense seems all the more hostile.

Barchan is dead! Barchan has been well and truly killed. If Barchan were alive today seeing this eco-existential atrocity, he would be appalled at what they have done to this once lovely village. As such, and until the cars are removed from this once fine dell, I propose the addition of an extra 'l' to its name.