Day Twenty Nine

Festis

Well it is All Hallows’ Eve as they now call it.

Back home it is still Samhain. 

As it should be I say.

Cousin Morag will be off to Tigh nam Bodach to move the Cailleach and her children into their wee stone house for the winter. 

Do not worry it is not so far from Tioram. 

Well not with Morag driving her R Type that is. It is an automatic. Dugal is still appalled. 

Fortunately she is the Procurator-fiscal for Argyllshire so over the years many a blind has been turned.

Perhaps if we had the Cailleach our winters here might be a bit more balmy. 

But we do not, and I doubt it would wish to emigrate having been happily there for these three thousand or so years. 

One cannot have everything I realize. 

We were all up rather early this morning as it is Niamh’s long day at her university and Zita was on the phone first thing.

So she could get an appointment with her doctor so they can cure this sore throat of her’s. 

Craig arose for the day when was finished listening to his book on why Russia is the way that it is.

That is to say why is Russia Russia? Bloody minded genetics if you ask me.

We have all ordered those pictograph T-shirts from those Ukrainian chaps. It is the least we could do.

Though I have it on some authority that some of the Clan have volunteered to confront the Ruskies. 

But I best say no more. 

After Craig had his stimulus coffee he finished the last almond croissant. 

Unfortunately it was not as big as one might have expected so there was only a little bit to share. 

Fortunately we three had already stopped by Whole Foods and picked up a few raspberry Danishes. 

I must say having to acquire all of Miss Poppy’s responsibilities has introduced us to many new places for a morning indulgence. 

A quick piece of toast and jam has lost some of its charm compared to fresh croissants au chocolat I must say. 

Now Zita’s doctor said that this sore throat is everywhere and she should just keep taking all her medicine. 

Now what kind of doctor will not write you a prescription for a nice Speyside or two. 

Seems like a dereliction of care if you ask me. 

Maybe she is English. 

At least Doctor Alice has the Gaelic. Thank goodness.

For tonight we have decided to leave the greeting of the costumed children to the Taylors. 

Unfortunately some find Dugal’s accent a bit confusing. 

Anyway tonight is his time for sharing a taste or two with the departed. 

He brought a cheese and ham croissant for Miss Poppy.

In case she is not too busy hovering over her family on this neither quite here nor quite there night and visits him too. 

She always loved Samhain so we were proud to stand in her place to watch all the fabulous costumes. 

It was a great success. 

But for the first time is years of years Niamh’s university classes overlapped the event and she was devastated to miss it.

So Rhome Clay substituted for her.

Thank goodness we were here to step in and provide Zita with support.

The family had an early diner to best respond to the onslaught of little people. 

So we were there to provide an early warning of visitors. 

When all was done we left Dugal to his conversations across the frail boundaries of life. 

The constant clinking of Waterford crystal kept us informed of the progress.

And Craig and Zita turned off the lights and went to the den for their detective program. 

We kept watching for rapscallions, even spirit ones. 

Though we will leave those to Dugal and Miss Poppy. 

Because one never knows on nights such as this.