Mike Edwards on his successful hunt for fresh frogspawn

Neither is their extensive campaign exhorting us to leave them something in our wills.

Even though the vast majority of us will never have any need to call upon their services, even in a seafront town like Helensburgh, we all know what the RNLI is and, more importantly, what it does.

The charity is celebrating its second centenary at a series of events around the country. I try to avoid water unless I’m putting it in a dram or bathing in it occasionally.

You won’t catch me anywhere near a boat, powered by wind or engine, and the prospect of trying to cross a large body of ocean in one brings me out in a sweat. But RNLI volunteers head off to help others at the buzz of a pager.

Here’s to another 200 years. And thank you.

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It was, perhaps, an exemplar of what social media is for.

I made a polite inquiry on a local Facebook site about frogspawn in the locale. Within the hour I was inundated and, like a good Army officer, did a map recce and prepped my kit for the trawl.

The Yankee Road, I was told, was the best place. But before leaving I made one last, longing trip to the pond I dug on the Schloss Edwards estate when I arrived a refugee from Glasgow.

Nary a cluster of goo existed to prove that any frogs nearby had done their thing. It saddened me, but equally I had a spring in my step too, because I knew that by close of play, it would be toppers with this year’s imported model.

So off I trogged into the hills with my bucket and dustpan (don’t tell Her Ladyship). It wasn’t long before thousands of little potentials were slopping around in my pail.

The return journey took much longer than the first leg, because I was accosted by everyone and (quite literally) their dog, asking what on earth I was doing.

But I made three new friends, helped one lady with a research project, and clapped a dozen dugs before I plopped the day’s takings into my empty ranarium.

I’m desperate to create a haven for nature, and I have visited the pond twice daily since my deposit. No movement. All I can do now is hope for better weather – and wait.

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One thing I would not want to be in Helensburgh is a traffic policeman. I’d be bored out of my mind!

I’ve never known anywhere on the planet where speed limits are adhered to so carefully.

I used to live in Switzerland where the public transport was so good, I never needed a car. I had a rail pass which, for a few Francs, afforded me half price travel anywhere in the country.

It was only when my flat mate lent me his car while he was on holiday that I drove around to see how the other half lived, I mean drove.

The Swiss were very pernickety drivers. Long before it became a thing, they would switch their engines off at traffic lights and gave way to everything. If you needed glasses, you had to have a second pair in the car.

Rules are rules, but they still broke more speed limits than Helensburgh drivers do.