I had put clean clothes on, but I was no match for Marnie Riches, who made her first ever entry onto Scottish soil (well it was more like Glaswegian tarmac, but still) yesterday wearing tartan jeans and a shaggy black jacket thing, along with – I swear – freshly cerised hair. So she looked stunning, but seemed to be willing to be seen in my company anyway.
Marnie was on her way to an event in the metropolis of Motherwell, and had time for a Witch before it. I had swotted up on Glasgow’s tearooms/coffeeshops and felt that the overflow Willow Tearooms in Buchanan Street might just be it.
My be-tartanned companion sat on one of those highbacked Charles Rennie Macintosh chairs, while I sat on the sofa, resting my chin on the table. Easy to tell who was the more elegant one. (If you’re wondering; it wasn’t me.) But the Willow blend tea was good and Marnie’s carrot cupcake was a sort of healthy vegetable choice. I’d been afraid she’d want the prosecco tea, in which case I’d have had to stop her, seeing as it was pre-event.
We talked books, killing people, and builders. That’s talking about builders, not killing them. Marnie is writing crime novels as if there’s no tomorrow, and I am hoping for lots more hair-raising murders from her.
And with jeans like that, she’d be perfect for Bloody Scotland.