Treasury Notes...

.. have all but disappeared in Glasgow.
I went to the bank today to get some English notes for Mrs. Lear as she is heading for Morocco, and I always like her to have some English cash. Not liking cards myself, cash is cash and you can always get what you want.
However, it took me six banks to get any.In the Bank of Scotland ( HBOS) the girl behind the counter told me people had been refusing BOS notes and asking for English. Clydesdale were OK, and they would take Royal Bank at a pinch. Rather like the Tchermans refusing to take southern Europe Euro notes, although that one leaves me confused and puzzled.
I've never been that keen on cards. I've watched too many films where the hero ( or villian) gets tracked down by using his card. Or having it stopped and having to walk the rest of the way.
The grand finale was quite a few years ago when we had friends staying with us in a villa in France. Although they contributed to the daily grub, they offered to take us out for a meal. Another friend, also staying, on hearing that he wasn't about to have to cough up for his share, promptly ordered lobster and a gin and tonic.
At the end of the meal my friend called for the bill and nonchalantly handed Madame his Visa card.
She didn't even touch it.
"Non"
Needless to say, he had no other method of paying. Mrs Lear came to the rescue with her Eurocheques, which were a wonderful thing, but, I suspect, rather too easy to defraud people with, and costly to encash.
So ever since I've always carried enough cash with me to do whatever I want.
Which generally means that I end up having to pay for everything and getting a load of cheques from odd people when I get home.
Sigh.