The Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence

[Panache]

Madam Pleater,

The Captain and officers of the XMTS Airship Saltire believe strongly in a well rounded cultural experience. Forgive us if our journey back takes somewhat longer than expected as we are greatly enjoying certain aspects of British culture.

Cheers

Panache

Captain, XMTS Zeppelin Saltire

[Pleater]

The telegram from the Saltire's captain came as something of a relief. Only a short time before it was received one of the inconspicuous multi function vehicles the military use had come up the main driveway and drawn to a halt, though it was still moving on its suspension. The passenger door opened and a rather elderly civilian hurried to the door. The gate house had alerted us to the approach of the vehicle, so I was awaiting him.
'I'm so sorry to trouble you - I'm Roderic Trevelyan, from the Tank Museum at Bovington.'
I made a slight bow, 'Your fame precedes you, sir - I noted that one of your Great War tanks was taken to the Lord Mayor's show earlier this month.'
'Ah yes - and still operational, we drove it out and onto the transporter.' His eyes gleamed at the recollection, just for a moment, but the light faded as he returned to the matter at hand.
'I know that the American Airship is due to return here, but it would solve a difficulty for me if you could take our passenger.'
There was a series of bangs and shrieks from the enclosed part of the vehicle.
'An American man has been coming to the museum during the last few days. I though at first he was simply interested in our exhibits, which he was in a way. However, yesterday he offered to buy one of the most modern tanks, with his credit card, and today he returned proposing that he simply take one out for the day as long as it was fully armed and had a driver and a full tank of fuel. He was asking for something effective against Zeppelins, so I assumed he was intending some mischief to your guests.'
'Fortunately they have not yet returned. Would you say he is insane?'
'He was evading my men by climbing onto the exhibits and slapping them with a rubber chicken whilst shouting that he would be revenged. I think that puts him quite safely into the non compos mentis category.'
'If you leave him here I am sure we can sort him out, perhaps discover his grievance, real or imaginary, and possibly get him some help.'
'It is perhaps the kindest thing, and care in the community is not an option, I strongly advise.'
I nodded in agreement, then watched as a number of ropes dropped from the crenelated porch and a Royal slid down each one and landed on the flagstones. They were wearing a camouflage I had not seen before, but which perfectly matched the ancient stones and vegetation of the South facing facade of the House.
'May we assist, Ma'am?' one enquired.
'I think it would be safest for all concerned - we have a place in the Rotunda where he can be kept safe.'
The previous occupants had been taken off to one of our farms and were engaged in wholesome activities and meditation.
The Royals extracted the maniac efficiently, the shouting suddenly stopped as even a mad man gets an inkling of self preservation - though even as he was carried away I saw that he was waving the rubber chicken, though rather in the way of a request for parlay.
Mister Trevelyan refused an offer of refreshment before making the return journey, so I followed the Royals along the mosaic walkway and then through the wrought iron arches to the avenue of topiary chessmen.
The prisoner was standing, rather breathless, within the cell, and the Royals were observing him with mild curiosity, though as I came in they stood back, and a couple of them slipped away.
'Don't trust him an inch, Ma'am. He's no harmless nutter.'
'I'll be careful - very careful. I think I might know who he is - I just have an awful suspicion.'
The Royals departed quietly as I observed the prisoner.
'Would you like some pudding?' I enquired.
His face altered from glowering to just slightly expectant, but his eyes were dreadful.

When I returned to the House I found the telegram from the Captain of the Saltaire, the time away seems to have done him the world of good, and realised that I did not have to send the poor demented soul away at once. In the spirit of enquiry, I created something from what I found in the fridge for ordinary food and added a tiny amount of the special cake.

As I was doing it, I realised that I would have to give my first subject the antidote. For Ivana and Evan it was too late, and a whole slice of the cake in the first place had completly reworked their ways of thinking - stopping the process before it had affected the entire personality would be dreadful - you might get someone who still wanted unlimited power whilst believing that eating animals was wrong - though come to think of it, I've met a few like that. They would need to like in a sheltered environment for the rest of their lives - but man is not meant to inhabit a world of bliss, untroubled by life and all its attendant concerns. Perhaps for a few hours he can leave everything behind, but it was never meant to be a continuous state. That is the power we at the MHICE give our gels - and perhaps the young men too - in a different way.

I considered the problem as I made a chicken salad, cutting everything small enough to eat with fingers, and provided a little plastic spoon for the slices of baked apple layered with cake crumbs topped with rice pudding.

I returned to the Rotunda with one of the security staff, and slid the tray into the cell using the rotating table. The food was eaten with great delecacy, all except the red leafed lettuce, which was carefully set on one side. Having eaten the prisoner flung himself down on the bunk and seemed to fall instantly into a deep sleep.

I went to the back of the house, and seated on the rustic bench which was set against the wall of the converted stable block I had a long talk about the meaning of happiness and just how important a mane of golden curls is to a man.
'Do I have to go straight away?' he enquired.
'No, not at all. In fact people will stop you going out of the grounds.'
He gave a sigh.
'You can use the flat as long as you like, and there is always food around - though you should go to the kitchens where the young men are working.'
He gave me a Bambi look.
'Do you suspect me of bad intentions towards the girls?'
'Good Lord no - its just that you are wearing a kilt, - is your new outfit to your liking, by the way?'
'Oh it's wonderful.'
'Hamish helped me with the shirt, tie and hose.'
'It's wonderful. But - why should I avoid the girls?'
'Well, you have just emerged from a period of great angst, is that not so?'
'Yes - suddenly I am free...'
'Then take my advice - you will feel all the better for it.'

[Pleater]

The Saltire lingered in the valley of the Don, the Saltires seeking out the last of the Sheffield cutlers and having blades of various types of steel made for them and set into hilts and handles then moved to the Midlands to obtain suitable sheaths and scabbards.

During this time I fed different mixtures, I read the Narnian notebook again and again, went through the Encyclopedia culinaria and even searched all the folders of different researchers into the culinary arts. I even walked along the corridors with stained glass windows showing game, domestic animals and all that the field and garden can provide for the table.

Eventually I realised that there was something so obvious that I had entirely overlooked it. In the centre of each window there was a table laid out, and on the table amid the dishes stood flagons of ale and bottles of wine.

I went to see Bronwen. She would remember when the library was locked away.
'You want to cure a mad man?'
'I am not certain that it is madness as such. I think it is just a reaction to some deeply felt loss - it is grief. I think that he requires something more than we have at present to help him come to terms with it.'
'Well - we could have a look.'
'What at?'
The books in the sealed vault.'
'How?'
She smiled mischievously, then led me to a cupboard.
'Always leave the door open.' She said sternly. 'That is why I have not been able to retire. Coming in here and shutting the door so no one knew where they were, not until it was too late.'

There was an ornate brass wheel which opened a metal plate in the floor.
'Always put this in place.'
Bronwen took an ornate device from a hook in the wall and placed it between the plate and the wheel, joining them so the wheel could not rotate nor the plate descend.
'Now lets go down and see what there is to see.'
I was surprised to see that there was a desk and writing materials, an old leather topped desk and a swivel chair of antique design. on the desk was a book shelf and perhaps ten or a dozen books rested there, almost covered by piece of chamois leather. I looked around. There were no other books.
'This is next to the cold room - I think.' I decided.
'Yes, it is. Viagra Hughes had it made.'
'Viagra?'
'Yes - who else would they name it after?'
'So few books?'
'And the one you want is the smallest. Its the end one.'
I put on the white cotton gloves which lay on the desk as if placed there just hours before, and picked up the book.
'So when was the last time anyone was down here?'
The year you were appointed.'
I turned on the desk lamp and began to examine the book. Unlike many of the items we have there was an index. I read the chapter, and sighed.
'It is out of date by fifty years. the vintages used are long gone, or locked away in private cellars.'
'Like ours, perhaps?'
'We have a wine cellar?'
'Oh yes, it is just that no one has needed to use it for a long time.'
'When was the last time?'
'It was for Queen Victoria, after Albert died she had no heart to go on. Unfortunately it was impossible to bring her here with her consent, she knew about us. it had to be arranged - a slight problem with a train, a little trouble with the carriage, and here she ate and drank and slept the night before going on her way, returning to her beloved subjects.'

I took the pen, flipped up the cover and dipped it into the inkwell. I carefully copied the instructions from the book, then blotted the paper and placed it in my notebook. I wiped the pen placed it in the holder and closed the inkwell. We ascended, closed the plate and left the cupboard.
'But it is supposed to be sealed.'
'It is - you get closed in there and you have a very short future.'
'I see - so it is entirely true, a sealed vault - just that it can be opened any time.'
'Exactly. We only open it when it seems necessary. When we can find someone else to come here you might have time for some research.'
'How long have you been looking?'
'Since you came.'
'Oh.'
'Well - there are a lot more people than you'd think who would take over the world if given the chance.'
She had led me to a low archway filled with door. It required a large key to unlock it, and beyond lay serried ranks of bottles dozing in cool darkness.
It took some time to locate the bottle I required. I carried it carefully up to my kitchen to meet its destiny.

The prisoner looked up eagerly when I went in. It had been a pity to waste such an eager subject trying out special foods which did not really do much good.
'Try this.' I said, and cautiously passed the wine glass through the bars. He sniffed and sipped, then sipped twice more.
'Its a bit thin. But not bad. Is it French?'
'Sort of.'
'How can it be sort of?'
'Well - France has changed.'
'Not recently.'
'No not recently.'
He ate the meal, sipping the wine which I knew was a perfect compliment, and then he returned the glass and retired to the bunk with a sigh.

[Pleater]

As soon as I took in the breakfast tray I knew that I had succeeded in calming whatever monster it was that bothered the mind of the prisoner. His eyes were calm, his brow untroubled and the terrible tension in every muscle had departed. He had obviously been making good use of the little bathroom and as he stepped forward into the shaft of sunlight from the tall narrow window he was quite startlingly handsome. He looked at me almost shyly, and accepted the tray with a smile.

I sighed and rubbed my hand where I had bruised it the previous evening.
'Have you hurt your hand?'
'Only a slight accident with a spanner - I was making something safe, but it was rather cold outside in the garage - luckily I have a 17oz Modern Morrison kilt for the colder weather.'
'I noticed that you wear a kilt - it isn't a skirt.'
'The uniform of the individual. I find that they are so comfortable and not restricting like a skirt.'
Again he seemed a Little shy.
'You'd better eat.' I reminded him.
He suddenly exclaimed and pointed to my jacket.
'What is that? Is it hair or fur.'
I pulled off the white fur and held it out to him. 'It is fur from my rabbits.'
He took it with trembling fingers.
'It is like the fur of the Acryli-beast, not so long, but with the same iridescence.'
'I do not know the creature. Is it kin to the Glaucomys arctos giganticus? That is know for its white fur - or blue fur of course. It only has the white fur in winter.'
He looked very like Amber doing her bowling ball impression.
'Blue fur?'
'An optical effect, really - it is blue in sunlight, and iridescent black in artificial light.'
He laughed. 'That I would like to see.'
'Really? I will see if my husband has fully finished any of the commemorative sporrans he has been working on.'
His mouth fell open.
'I wasn't sure how many of each to have made, so I asked him to do enough of each colour for all the Saltire's men.'
He made a small squeaking sound and burst into tears. I apologised and left him to recover.

I called in at the workshop to check on progress and found that the sporrans were all finished except for the engraving of the names into the silver strips.

'This is for you.' he said and showed me a box in which lay a hat and muff of the darker form of the fur. I kissed him and tried on the hat at once.
'Is it alright?'
'Perfect.' he assured me, and reclaimed it. 'I'll take it inside - the ladies might be jealous.'
'Do you think that they will like the stoles I made?'
'I think that they will love them - baby arctos fur yarn is a sustainable resource, though who would have thought that it would be pink?'
I smiled. 'Having white babies in a white environment might be alright if you keep them in a hole, but when they are running around you need to be able to see them.'

I hurried off to the nine thirty soviet, reported that the wine seemed to have done the trick and then settled down to the business of the MHICE.

[Pleater]

With some trepidation I began to offer dilute amounts of antidote to my first subject to counteract the state of cake induced bliss - but after the first two he poured them away and refused to drink anything but water straight from the tap. Even when I promised to make no further attempts he remained suspicious. I supposed that would indicate that he would be able to look after himself.

I had released my second subject as he seemed to be rational - though I had instructed the security staff to watch him closely. I was somewhat reassured by his leaving behind the rubber chicken, which, I discovered, had been stuffed with recipes for desserts. I disposed of those from volume 9 and The Joy of Snacks with great care. I left the others as they are probably harmless except in terms of calorific content and their effect on Human lifespan.

We awaited the return of the Saltire. I reflected on the Human condition and wondered when I might have the opportunity to wear my new hat and muff.

[Pleater]

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.

[Panache]

We awaited the return of the Saltire. I reflected on the Human condition and wondered when I might have the opportunity to wear my new hat and muff.

This is just a great sentence, it would make a great signature line.

Cheers

Jamie

[Pleater]

I suppose that it does tend to sum up the philosophy of the female situation - though out of context it might not be as effective.

I can just see it in the personal ads

'Middle aged extrovert seeks opportunity to muff'.

Or perhaps the Ankh Morpork Times headline

New hat starts
muffing rumpus

[Pleater]

At last we were notified of the return of the Saltire, and we prepared for the arrival of guests. This time the great airship docked under gloomy skies, and the crew hurried to the House, which had been lit for the occasion so it must have looked very inviting. The airship greeted us with music from all the various places it had visited during its tour of the British Isles.

Suddenly there was a comotion on the steps from the gondola, and at least three sturdy men were knocked from their feet and tumbled from the doorway, and the door slid shut. A few moments later and the hawsers and docking mechanism were dropped - a safety feature, I presumed to facilitate a rapid departure in times of danger. The noise of the engines increased and the music changed to the Ride of the Valkirie, which pounded out, acompanied by the words of Elmer Fudd - Kill the wabbet! Kill the wabbet! as the airship reversed away from the mooring tower and began to gain height

I had put on my long Goretex double cape to go down to welcome everyone back, and hand out hooded cloaks to those not dressed for the weather. The three men who had taken a tumble all wore the red shirts of security.
'It's the Captain, he's flipped again.'
'Ever since he saw that acryli-beast sporran.
'But he was getting a bit better until he saw the rabbit.'
'He pushed you?'
'He kicked me!' one declared, rubbing the offended cheek.
'But what can he do with the airship? It isn't as though it is armed.'
They shuffled and nudged eachother.
'It isn't armed - surely?'
'Twenty Vickers machine guns'
'Twin bomb racks.'

'ZARKING FARDWARKS!!'

'Sorry.'

The Saltire had moved to the end of the Azelia Border and something fell from the rear of the gondola, struck the rather pleasant gazebo and burst into flames.
'A bomb?' I gasped.
'Super heated gin, I suspect.'

[Pleater]

'Is anyone else aboard?'
'Just the Captain.'
'How is he steering as well as dropping gin?'
'There's an automatic pilot - just put in the zip code and it goes there then circles the spot.'
'Better get everyone inside and down to the bomb shelters.'
'Shouldn't we do something?'
'That is doing something, do you know how much gin he has got?'
'Quite a lot.'
'Twenty gallons? Thirty?'
'Er - well - I think he stocked up with London gin - maybe - five hundred gallons - English gallons.'
'And heating the gin?'
'Probably the coffee making system.'
'So you have been flying around the country with a zeppelin full of explosives, gin and steam.'
They nodded, thoughtfully.
'Right well off you go and sort things out and I'll try to contact the airship.'
'Oh - there's this.' One handed me a mobile phone. 'It is linked to the Saltire's intercom.'
I poked various buttons until it gave in and connected me.
'That gazebo was Victorian.'
'Give me the rabbit - just the skin will do. I want a sporran that is white and glittery.'
Before I could respond another container plummeted from the back of the gondola and there was an explosion. I closed the phone and ran around to the garage, opened the door and climbed into the camper van. I had to turn on the headlamps before I drove it a little way from the house, opened the roof, and waited for the circling Zeppelin to appear. I poked the phone into life.
'Look what I have got, Captain. It is heat seeking, it will knock your diridgibible thingy out of the air. Take your time and think about it.'
A bright light shone down from the air ship as it passed over, then winked out. I had not rung off, but there was silence on the line. The music and the noise of the engines was fading away.
'The buck stops here,' I said.