The fortnight of She Who Must Be On Holiday continues unabated by weather, cat, or writing. Hence the non-regular blogging going on around here. This week we are been mostly making full use of Fiona’s shiny-new National Trust membership, with Fyvie Castle being the latest stately home to fall under the relentless yoke of holiday oppression. Not a bad place. A nice lady showed us round, only slightly disturbed when I started asking questions about the attic rooms and weapons. I have an idea you see. For an book. Probably a Logan one. But that means I’ll have to go back and do a lot more research as well as trying to con the National Trust people into giving me a tour of those parts of the castle closed to the public. The sort of places you could hide a body.
Well, it’s a hobby, isn’t it?