The days passed with no sign of the Saltire, and our former madman felt the need to return home, his thoughts were far away at Thanksgiving which we do not keep and I had forgotten about - always so much to do here.

We got a list, originally from Harrods, of all the people who had ordered hampers and who, it is considered, should be feeling more amiable this Christmas. Just very slightly, nothing really noticeable, just a nudge. We also got a request for several thousand individual slices, wrapped, One of the back kitchens has been converted into a production area where we can safely expose ordinary cake to the special cake with air flow control, then pack them for collection.

It is of course entirely wrong, and I wonder who told the Minister, but it is possibly justified by the possibility of an increase in worldwide amiability by Christmas.

I arranged a flight and a taxi told him to keep in touch, but I am a little concerned - he packed the rubber chicken. He did seem to be quite affected by the sporran I gave him. It was just a spare bit of the arctos fur, not even any silver plate or fittings but he put it on at once and went off for half an hour - to see how it worked, he said. He seemed to find it did what he wanted.

He was just heading for the taxi when he thought about the money for the flight. I assured him that my credit card covered it. He seemed somewhat perplexed, so I pulled it from my belt pouch.
'It's this - when I want to buy anything I just put it into the slot by the phone.'
'But then they send you the bill.'
'No - at least, not yet.'
'How long have you been doing that for?'
'I can't really remember. Maybe twenty years. Someone else must get the bills.'
He grinned.
'Whats the limit on it?'
'I don't think it has one.'
I zipped it away and closed the flap over it. He stared at the pouch.
'It has a sixteen digit PIN.'
He nodded, then put it from his mind. I advised him to stay out of trouble if at all possible, wished him a safe journey, and waved him off, then almost jumped out of my skin to find Mister Brown behind me.
'Just checking when he left.'
'Nice kilt.' I said. He had still retained the theme of the kilt suit, but now looked even more like the image of his namesake.
'Have you dismantled the SAM?'
'Not yet - I can't get the inspection plate undone. It seems to have been super glued, and things are so busy around here.' I glanced at my watch. 'I have a class to teach. It's quite safe, all switched off, and I took the batteries out of the remote. It looks dangerous though, just sitting there it sort of menaces.'
He seemed happy that everything was going to plan and then he was gone, though only after a visit to the kitchens. It seems that once you feed a man he will keep coming back - like the Royals. It isn't as though they were actually appointed to patrol the grounds and keep watch, but when they moved into their base, which is just next door it was a nasty old day, raining and blowing a gale, and the ladies in the House at the time gave them tea and sandwiches when they arrived, and apparently they decided that it was their duty to look after us - and turn up to help with any spare food we might be having difficulty with.