The Baked Bean Taster

02/18/2005

A stormy and wet night that befits the gloomy mood in the Great Bed. However, daylight, now just before 7.00, brings more cheer. We enjoy plenty of blue skies peppered with blustery wintery showers in a westerly airflow. The temperature settles at plus six degrees, feeling a lot colder in the breeze. However, the fires will be lit tonight as we are promised cold northerlies for the weekend. I rise early to avoid the Baked Bean Taster and make myself scarce in the garden. When I pop into the kitchen for elevenses, Mhairi tells me that “The Young Couple” ate a hearty breakfast at 10.00. By lunchtime, the blood pressure builds when I find Lachie, dressed in highland regalia, serving Hendricks and Tonic in the tenth Baron’s large crystal tumblers. I am forced to grab one myself when the Baked Bean accosts me at the Drawing Room windows and after studying the view, asks, “How much of this do you actually own”. I have a very strong desire to retort; “The whole bloody lot, you arsehole!”, however, I choke this back and mutter some rubbish about the land owning one, one does not own the land. Luncheon is a disaster of high-pitched giggles, baying and groping. Dearest Dotty is at her wits end, and makes it very clear that I am no better than a rat when I announce a forgotten engagement with the Kerrs at Arichastlich that will keep me away until the early hours. Before nipping off, I place a call to the company lawyers in London, as I am most concerned that the Baked Bean may be accruing certain rights by moving into the Trollaigh Highbury house with the girls. Being Friday afternoon, all the partners are quaffing Champagne by the bottle at Quags. David sends a very relaxed message in which he promises to talk to me over the weekend. “Just relax, Old Chump”, says he. Yeah gods! If only I could. Posted in the absence of, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.