Have I got news for ewe ... not all of those charity goats get as far as Africa.

Sadly, inclement weather rendered it unusable and my ambitions of a dancing-on-ice nature went unrealised. It was the pouring rain that did in the rink on St Andrew's Nicht.

Last year, the rink, which is part of Glasgow's annual Christmas festivities, was out of commission for a day because of unusually hot weather for December. That's climate change for you.

The ceilidh went on indoors. The event had more of a Christmas than a St Andrew's feel to it. This is bound to be the case when Santa and his elves are the ones doing the Dashing White Sergeant.

A blonde lady MC did her best to engender enthusiasm inside the weather-blown tent. She said the atmosphere was going to be "like Tobermory toon hall".

She enjoined the audience to "get it up for the Reel Thing". I thought I had misheard her introduction for the ceilidh band but she later asked us to "get it up" for a Slovenian accordionist.

The lady, who I guess may be a radio personality, said if we were "hank marvin" there was free haggis and neeps available, courtesy of Macsween's under the banner One Scotland, One Haggis. As dessert, there was a chocolate fountain into which could be thrust skewers of fudge and marshmallows to re-inforce those great Scottish traditions of obesity and tooth decay.

It has to be said that we lack practice in putting on a guid St Andrew's Nicht. But the citizens ceilidhed personfully against the elements.

And I have found a new favourite in the search for a Scottish anthem. The brass section and drummers of SambaYaBamba delivered a stunning rendition of the theme tune from Scotsport. (The current one, not the more sedate original.) It is a lively, upbeat number. It is especially appropriate as an anthem for a modern Scotland since it comes untrammelled by lyrics about hills, glens, or ancient battles. But you can still sing along. All together now: Doo, di, doo, di, doo, di, doo, di, di di, doo.

I WAS an early convert to the concept of a goat for Christmas. You didn't eat the goat nor indeed own it. You sent money to a charity who delivered the goat to a family in Ethiopia. This enabled you to bathe in the warm glow of benefaction and to consume guiltlessly an amount of festive fare which would sustain a small African township until Easter.

You could have that last wafer thin mint safe in the knowledge that Ethiopian children were merrily herding the livestock and the entire family were having goats' cheese for dinner but probably not with Nairn's oatcakes.

The feelgood factor was more than slightly diminished last week. While some charities have been urging us to send more goats, others warn that we are doing the African recipients no favours at all. The World Land Trust say that it is "madness" to send goats to areas where they will add to the problems of drought and desertification. John Burton, director of the trust, said goats have a devastating effect because they "eat everything in sight".

The goat issue has sparked a worthier-than-thou debate on the ethics of aid agency catalogues. There are disagreements over the relative merits of soliciting funds for a goat, selling a box of organic chocolates or offering the opportunity to save an acre of rainforest.

The most shocking revelation came from Christian Aid who admitted in The Times that "the purchase of a goat, did not necessarily mean that a goat was bought. The money would go into a farming and livestock fund that would be distributed by local project managers".

So, there was no goat for Christmas. This is a disappointment on a par with discovering that Santa may not exist.

At least it has not been suggested that any goat money might have been spent on some charity executive's expense account. Or, like the cash we sent to the tsunami appeal, is earning interest on the spot money market. What I'm looking for is an ethical charity which will guarantee to deliver a box of organic chocolates to that Ethiopian family who never got a goat.

ONE of the finer initiatives afoot in the Scottish parliament is the proposal to tackle abuse of parking bays for the disabled. Campaigners on the issue have been lobbying MSPs for five years.

Just when they thought no-one was listening, Labour backbencher Jackie Baillie has put forward a member's bill which will alter the present unsatisfactory legal situation whereby disabled parking places are provided as a "courtesy". Able-bodied drivers can park without any risk of penalty. Ms Baillie is promoting the Disabled Persons Parking (Scotland) Bill. I prefer to call it Nellimeg's Law.

Nellimeg, or Helen Margaret Hind to use her Sunday name, is a young lady upon whom society has conferred the "courtesy" of a disabled parking outside her close in Pollokshields, Glasgow. Nellimeg as a baby was as bright as a button. Then a triple vaccination inflicted brain damage which led to severe epilepsy.

A mispresciption of drugs later delivered a further toxic shock to her system. She is now in a wheelchair. Despite her cerebral palsy, she is still as bright as that button and, as her family and friends can attest, is devilishly perceptive.

One of her friends is Alasdair Gray, the artist and author. At the launch of Gray's opus Poor Things, Nellimeg announced that she would like to do a book about "things". The book has been done. Nellimeg provided the inspiration and Gray has put together a collection of beautiful drawings, with captions in his inimitable style.

Nellimeg's Book Of Things is to be published by the National Library of Scotland with proceeds going to the charity Enable.

But, meanwhile, back at Nellimeg's parking space in Pollokshields things have not been going so well. Her mother Eleanor has had to fight a constant battle against able-bodied motorists stealing Nellimeg's little yellow box. And they have not all been entirely courteous when she asked them to desist. Verbal abuse is common. Physical abuse has been threatened.

One of the offenders was a doctor who left his car there all day and received a sherricking on the grounds that a medical person should know better. Sad to report, he remained unrepentant.

Eleanor Hind says that many people lose their sense of decency when it comes to parking their cars. There is the case of one man who for some reason was enraged that his wheelchair-user neighbour had a parking space. He would use it whenever possible, even leaving his car there when he went on holiday.

Such uncivil behaviour currently goes unpunished. The best recourse Eleanor Hind and fellow campaigners have is to put a leaflet on the windscreen saying: "You've taken my disabled person's parking space. Now, would you like to take my disabilities too?"

The campaigners are chuffed that there will eventually be hefty fines for those who abuse disabled parking spaces. One cloud on the horizon is the time it will take to pass the law. I had always thought the Scottish parliament was pretty speedy at getting things done.

But even with all-party support, it will take 18 months to get Nellimeg's Law on the statute book. That would take us beyond the election and into a time when Holyrood's attention will be firmly on independence and other weighty matters.

The issue of disabled parking might well drift off the agenda. As a "courtesy" to Nellimeg and all the others, the parliament should find a way to have the matter settled before May.