On Thursday afternoon I observed CEO AM in her London headquarters deep in discussion with a very bright 16 year old girl, apparently the daughter of JMcL (who, as far as I knew, didn’t have any children).
On Friday night I was with AM again, this time with her husband on a remote Scottish island, helping them to install their blow-up house for the weekend.
I had come at AM’s invitation, but it was now clear that she had never expected me to accept it: there certainly weren’t any plans to entertain me over my two-day visit. I was just expected to muck in with household chores along with everyone else. I mentioned that I had brought a book and hoped that I would be left in peace to read.
When I eventually hinted that it would probably be best if I caught the first bus back south again to Glasgow on Sunday at 07:00am, the relief was visible on my hostess’ face. She was so pleased with my suggestion that she changed the plan to farm me out to the elderly next door neighbour for supper, where the deal was that I would give tuition on how to use Facebook in exchange for my meal. Instead she invited me to dine with her and her husband at their dinner table. Unfortunately the huge plates piled up with enormous portions of slimy yellow pasta were not terribly appetising.
KT and JH were rumoured to also own a cottage in this village, but they were nowhere to be seen, and nobody else there had ever heard of them.
Dreamaticus 