Surprise Guests

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Bonnie Prince Charlie, Burns' Night, Caligula, Commonwealth Games, D-day celebrations 2014, emoticons, Eskdale Hotel. Langholm, Glasgow School of Art, Henry Moore's King and Queen, incontinence pads, Kagyu Samye Ling, Land Girl, portable catheter, Sauchiehall Street, Snodland, Tibetan Centre, Usain Bolt, whippersnapper, Willow Tea Rooms

It’s gone!  It’s gone!  Murgatroyd’s face was ashen.

Calm down, dear!  Diana took control.  She was used to his

histrionics.

But it was here last night when we had the post-concert

drinkies.  And the glass hasn’t been smashed.  We didn’t hear

the alarm. I don’t understand it.

The niche where Bonnie Prince Charlie’s chalice had been

displayed was now empty.

What a shame!  The concert had been a triumph and there had

been some surprise visitors.  One, in particular, had caused

consternation and a re-shuffling of the sleeping arrangements.

Aunt Augusta had shown up in a taxi, gleefully proclaiming, Have

portable catheter.  Can travel!

The taxi driver sheepishly unloaded the packs of incontinence pads

from the boot and waived the tip of an obsolete half crown.

When reprimanded about the staff at Snodland Nursing Home for the

Debased Gentry being frantic with worry, the rogue aunt merely

shrugged and said: That old chap escaped for the D-day celebrations

in Normandy, so, as a Land Girl, I wasn’t going to be trumped by some

whippersnapper of a male.  You can phone and tell them I’ll return

after I have heard my great-niece in concert.  I’ll be back on Wednesday

as it’s the day I have my corns done.  Tell them not to strike a medal; I

have enough of them at my age.

The other unexpected members of the audience were Maxwell

Boothroyd-Smythe and his delinquent, but artistically-talented daughter,

Juniper.  Thankfully her pesky little brother had been taken to some kind

of trendy boot-camp by his mother.

Juniper had been photographing the burnt-out Glasgow School of Art, where

she had been promised a place if her predicted grades were achieved.  Her

father found that checking out possible accommodation for the Autumn term

was nigh-on impossible, as The Commonwealth Games‘ crowds in Sauchiehall

Street were overwhelming.  The chance of having a cup of tea in The Willow

Tearooms was as slight as Usain Bolt failing to win a gold medal.

Finding the city too crowded, they had set off for The Borders, hoping to see

Henry Moore’s King and Queen sculpture and to visit the Kagyu Samye Ling

Tibetan Centre which Juniper had been harping on about for months.  Goodness

knew, her father had been seeking inner peace for some time.  So, he agreed.

They had been eating a bar snack in The Eskdale Hotel, Langholm, when

Juniper’s observant eye focused on a flyer advertising a clarsach concert.

Dad!  Let’s go to that!  It’s that form teacher of mine.  She’s playing at some

kind of a tower house near here.  That nerdy guy who’s John’s form teacher-

the one they all call Caligula- is singing.  It should be a laugh.

When is it?

Tonight.

But won’t you put them off?

No, Miss Fotheringay is well-used to me surprising her.

Maxwell studied the mini-poster.  He recognised the woman.  She had scrubbed

up quite well.  Probably Photo-shopped.  Yes, he had danced Strip the Willow

with her at the PTA Burns’ Night.

Okay.  Okay.  But I’m not phoning ahead for tickets.  We might get lost. 

Probably hardly anyone will turn up, so we can buy tickets on the door.

I knew there was something going on between those two, whooped his

daughter.

Juniper was already texting her friend Tiger-Lily, using a full range of

emoticons.

 

 

‘No’ to Norovirus

Tags

barmkin, Bodhisattva, dengue, Eliza Doolittle, enhanced cleaning, Eskdale Hotel, Euston, horse leech's daughter, insurance compensation, Kagyu Samye Ling, lama, Langholm, Lockerbie, midge repellent, Mindfulness, Norovirus, Pan Am disaster, Pele Tower, salmonella, Shedra Studies, Tibetan Centre

So we just took a taxi back here from Southampton, explained Sonia. 

I had a premonition that we would catch something nasty.  We didn’t

fancy cruising round The Med in the company of heavers afflicted with

salmonella or suchlike.

Diana chipped in: They claimed the ship had been undergoing enhanced

cleaning, but we didn’t want to take the risk.

Oh, said Dru.  But will you get insurance compensation?

Not b ***-likely, as Eliza Doolittle would have said. If you opt out

because of fear of illness, it’s not the same thing as contracting an

actual malaise, admitted Sonia.  You might be offered a re-scheduled

voyage, but I doubt it would be one we’d be interested in.

So, what are your plans for the rest of the summer?

Dru queried.  Have you got your luggage, or was it

loaded?

It’s in the sitting room, supplied Sonia.  But we

haven’t thought that far ahead.  What are you up to?

Nigel and I are driving the hired van with the harp up

to Murgatroyd’s at the weekend.  The poor soul insisted

in going to Cornwall and placating his mother by painting

her skirting boards.  She’s never happy, though.  She’s like

the horse leech’s daughter, the Biblical one that continually

cried, ‘Give, give.’

How did he manage to escape? asked Diana.

By telling a white lie about having to help in the

transportation of some school equipment. 

Changing the subject, you do know that Gus is

coming up for a week or so with a friend, to support

the concert?  Dru looked directly at her mother.

Murgatroyd generously invited him.  He’s so laid back,

Mum.  You’d hardly recognise him.

Gus?

No, Murgatroyd.  I think he found the renovation

project isolating and has an idea of the pele tower

developing into some kind of spiritual sanctuary. 

He envisages it becoming a retreat from..

..cattle thieves, laughed Diana.

More like the pressures of modern life, corrected Dru.

He has an aura about him now- a kind of new-found peace.

He has been going to Kagyu Samye Ling rather a lot.

What is that? Sonia’s interest was aroused.

Oh, it’s a Tibetan centre in the Esk valley.  You can do all

sorts of courses there, such as Mindfulness,or Shedra Studies.

Now Sonia was really interested.

Murgatroyd says their principle is to be everyone’s friend.  They

encourage you to attempt the impossible, which is what he was

trying to do in his building scheme.  They talk  about bringing benefit

to others and say you should experience freedom within yourself.

If you learn to take time you can become non-judgemental.

Sounds basic life skills, Diana commented. You don’t need to be a

lama with one or two ‘l’ s to agree with those principles. It would be

interesting to see if he has implemented any of them.

Don’t be cynical, mum.  He did actually say that you would be welcome

to come and stay.  He has plenty of room and I know he wants a full

barmkin for the concert.

Barmkin? I’ll explain later.  Look, he obviously needs to have a confab

with you in a spirit of compassionate understanding about what happened

at the start of your marriage.  He’s entitled to that, I think. But he is

accepting of the whole situation and still regards me as his daughter,

if not his biological one.

I suppose one’s enemy can be one’s best teacher, conceded Diana.

Mum, he is not antagonistic, I assure you.  Sonia would be welcome too.

I’ve got a better idea, reflected Sonia.  Why don’t we stay at this Samye

Ling place?  They’re bound to have a guest- house.  Then we could take a

taxi over for the concert, since it’s not far from the pele tower.

Dru was already Googling away. Yes!  There’s a women only house. 

You book 24 hours in advance.  Vegetarian meals..  Take midge repellent. 

Sounds off-putting, but they don’t have dengue up there.

Do they offer any courses? asked Diana.

Thirty Seven Practices of a Bodhisattva is one.  Oh, you can fly to

Edinburgh from Southampton and take a train to Lockerbie..

..isn’t that where the dreadful Pan Am disaster took place? Sonia’s

expression darkened.

Yes, but that was a long time ago.  Or you could take the train

to Lockerbie from Euston. If the monastery’s full, there’s always

The Eskdale Hotel in Langholm.

Sorted, agreed Diana.

What’s a Bodhisattva again? asked Sonia.

I think we’re about to find out, replied Diana.