Our lovely next door neighbour Ginny died last night.
And she was only in the hospital on Sunday. My goodness.
Just an awful reminder to follow the adage and seize the day, as one can never know what happens next.
Zita and Niamh went to have tea with Bruna, Lee and Cara.
To see if there was anything they could do to be of assistance to the family.
On the other hand Zita’s father came through his operation with flying colours and is, as they say, resting comfortably.
That was a bit of a relief for all.
Considering how disrupted the morning was, we decided to postpone our first patrol until after lunchtime.
And Dugal stayed here in case an extra set of ears proved useful.
Niamh and the Buick went off too her university to work on Thursday’s presentation.
The streets are nearly passable since this round of snow removal.
So Festis and I trundled up to Bank Street for our after patrol snack.
We decided on Moralas café as we did not wish to be absent from home for long.
Adversity needs to be spread around, like jam on burnt toast. The thicker the spread, the more palatable the toast.
Hence the scandalous amount of jam we go through.
Zita spent some time talking to people who wish to work at her little organization. I hope they like meetings.
Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Abu Kela in the far off Sudan.
Dugal’s second cousin Ferrgaul was there with the Camel Corps. Nasty smelly beasts Camels.
That is where he lost his arm. It was a near run thing as they say.
Your man Kipling wrote his poem To the Fuzzy-Wuzzy about it.
And let me tell you he got it right.
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
for you broke a British square!
We heard the story first hand from many who were there.
They often wondered why we were there at all.
Gordon being a madman after all. Another Horse Guards cockup no doubt.
Dugal went to Woolich with Gordon, he was a great friend and the most honest man Dugal knew, but prideful.
He took himself to places where success was obviously impossible says Dugal.
And this only got worse as he aged he said.
Such are the vagueries of life we have learned.
Speaking of vagueries, it is once again colder at Tioram than here. Much colder. My goodness.
Lochlainn said the cattle and sheep were in their mainland barns, and he and all the dogs were back in the castle.
So Cook is whipping up some hearty broth for all of them.
Now that is exactly where a giant serving, or two of Ramen would hit the spot.
But we are not the ones who will mention it. Self-preservation is the operative word here.
And we learnt that Cousin Morag has decamped to London.
To take her place in the House of Lords, organizing a coup to overthrow the government.
The latest insult to Scots sovereignty has quite boiled over if Morag has actually taken her place in the House.
Lochlainn says she has even opened the farm house in Mayfair. Oh dear.
So she intends to make herself a continuing difficulty to the Sasanachs. Ah well.
Maybe she can drop by Fortnam’s and check on the salmon pâté and the oyster bisque we ordered.
Or Dugal’s Christmas hamper from HRH.
All of which seem to have disappeared between there and here.
When we got home Dugal greeted us with the wonderful news that it has been confirmed that Miss Pancake will be here tomorrow.
My goodness how exciting that is.
Such welcome news on a somber day, if I do say myself.
Zita talked to her mother to receive the latest news about her father.
Now Craig just came to the living room and told us that he discovered that today is Bouvier day.
What an auspicious discovery to start Miss Pancake’s voyage home, I do say.
But as it was such a difficult day Zita did not have the energy to cook.
So Kettleman’s brought us bagel sandwiches before we went off to bed.
Bed was very inviting for all of us I must say.
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