I always said to TPR that my idea of hell was to be stuck in the car deck of a CalMac ferry with both car and boat engines running. Now, as we climbed up the old back stairs of the former military psychiatric hospital, I was beginning to change my mind. It was a very creepy, enclosed space. I’d only agreed to head upstairs on the instruction of XY, partly to avoid being the next person asked to admire his “new plumbing” following his prostate operation.
We found P and Q on the landing at the top of the stairs, apparently having just left the office (even though it was well after 10pm). For years it had been rumoured that they were engaged in a love affair. It appeared that we had caught them (almost) red-handed. They confessed on the spot, then, most uncharacteristically, Q gave me an enormous hug.