Here’s one I went to earlier.
A chance encounter online, with a fairly cute looking plague doctor, reminded me of my real life encounter with one of those. Real life, but, I think, not real plague doctor.
On the other hand, the way things are going, how could I possibly be sure?
It’s now nearly seven years since I made the jump and crossed over the Scottish border to live, which was a generally wise choice, or so I believe. Within days there was an event at an Edinburgh school, featuring none other but another Stopfordian, who has since also moved, but hadn’t then.
It was he, Philip Caveney, who had written about a plague doctor, and ever the good publisher, Clare at Fledgling had spirited one up, complete with stick and all. Mercifully I don’t recall what he was supposed to do with the stick.
But a good day was had by all, I’m sure, and I reckon his mask was a lot more uncomfortable than the ones we are wearing now. And we’re not getting into strange cars at all.
The Occasional Bookwitch 