The Indigo bed and breakfast was in Cunningsburgh, Shetland. TPR had dumped the bike elsewhere so we caught the bus to the village. Once again I was astonished at the reach of service of Lothian Buses.

We asked for directions to Indigo Street or Indigo Square. Nobody seemed to have heard of the Indigo bed and breakfast – not even the oldest residents gathered in a field singing hymns as part of the entertainment at the agricultural show. Then someone suggested that perhaps the strange structure on Gallow Hill might be our destination?

By now I had lost TPR so I made my way up the hill on foot by myself. Near the top I came across an enclosed metal spiral staircase about three times the height of a telephone box. The bus driver encouraged me to start climbing. I was terrified due to my claustrophobia, but I had no choice so worked my way up to the top. There I knocked over a plate of oil balanced on one of the staircase struts and the contents fell on to a pale cream carpet in the house below.

I now knew for certain that I had found the Indigo bed and breakfast. It was just a pity that the hostess was going to get such a bad first impression of me.