Have you any idea how hard it can be chasing someone across Dobbies’ car park, carrying a saxophone case? With a sax in it. And a bag of books.
There were no more houses on Sunday, but the desired sleeping in didn’t happen. In a burst of wanting to do the right thing, I even went for a walk in the park. It was sunny and rather nice. Typical Scotland in February.
The Grandmother was driven away (so to speak) by the Resident IT Consultant, and brought back by Aunt Blane. She’d come to swap jigsaw puzzle boards. She brought her empty one and took away the Grandmother’s, which held a half made, very difficult to do, jigsaw. Aunt Blane wished to complete it at home, so the Resident IT Consultant balanced the whole thing down the stairs for her.
They’re crazy in that family.
With no more houses to go see, I’d arranged to take tea with Helen Grant. One of these days she’ll know to say no. She brought Miss Grant, who couldn’t resist the lure of cake. Good thing, as we were facing dealing with laden tea trays while manouvering the saxophone and the books through the café. It was a case of child labour again. She sagged under the weight of it all, while we sailed on with our trays. But she was rewarded with cake.
Miss Grant is a properly brought up young person, so once the hot chocolate had been slurped, she sat reading a book. Us oldies gossiped about the publishing industry and books in general. There might have been some mention of taking American tourists on muddy and dark tours through Perthshire’s graveyards, but I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.