New Port of Call for the wee flying device

[Hamish]

There was a ring at my door-bell yesterday (Tuesday) morning - unusual as Bicknell Grange is not known for making callers welcome. However, since it was Old S-----m's day off - he being the faithful, if wrinkled, retainer - I felt obliged, in this Season of goodwill, to throw the bolts, release the chains and padlocks, and open the heavy, creaking portal a smidgen to see what brave but foolish soul had approached the home of The Kilt Kollection. I was surprised to find a diminutive, trembling representative of The Royal Mail standing at the top of the wide sweep of two steps leading all the way up to the studded oaken door. He trembled apparently because his instructions were to obtain a signature in exchange for the package he held, but he had heard about the hungry Python which helps guard The Kollection and he lives in fear of Adders and Grass Snakes, let alone Pythons. Fortunately for him, I was able to calm him by assuring him that the Python could not reach him provided he quickly handed over the package and sundry other items of mail, had me sign his paperwork, and then reached the main gates of The Grange half a mile down the winding drive within 45 seconds.

Ten minutes later, once I had secured the bolts, chains and padlocks, I wondered who could have sent me such a neatly packaged parcel, and what it might contain:



I returned to my cup of coffee, which I had left in the Breakfast Room, and gingerly tore frantically at the package's wrappings, ever cautious of the present-day possibility of there being explosive devices, or worse, hidden in unexpected packages. Sharp knives and scissors helped me snip my way, with gay abondon, through the layers of paper, foil and plastic sheeting to reveal, at last the glorious contents of the rigid cardboard box:



Yes! It was 'The Saltire', Jamie's wee airship, complete with its log book and a letter from Derek and Elaine in Wales advising me to return it to Jamie pronto, on pain of death! Such was my joy that I even quite forgot my coffee. To think this little fella had already travelled from California to Canada, and from Canada to Wales (where it went just about everywhere imaginable, and unimaginable) and now from Wales to Storrington. Wow!

I hastily made an entry in the log book, turned away for just a moment to open the rest of my mail, turned back again ........ and found The Saltire gone! What! How is this possible? How can I explain this to Jamie? I'll be excommunicated or beheaded or worse, confined to the San Jose penitentary for the remainder of my days. "Now Ham, don't panic", whispered an inner voice. "It cannot have flown out, so just search The Grange carefully and methodically." Realising that this was indeed my best course of action, I took a stiff swig of cold coffee and set off to scour The Grange, floor by floor and wing by wing. Oh, if only Old S-----m was here to assist - his is such a calming influence, in spite of his difficulty in managing the many winding staircases here.

Something (probably that inner voice again) told me to start looking down in the vaults and there, undaunted by the Python or the Killer Whale in its tank, I found The Saltire. I guess Pythons and Killer Whales do not find airships particularly appetising! Yes, there it was, carefully examining the contents of Kilt Room One:



Before moving on to the remaining Kilt Rooms, down there in the vaults, I suggested a quick look into the Flashes Room might be an idea. Imagine my surprise when that little airship went totally berserk with flashes flying in all directions:



We hastily moved out of the Flashes Room and spent a few calming moments in the cool, air-conditioned corridor which links all the rooms in which The Kilt Kollection and Accessory Kollections are housed. My thought was that The Saltire must be tired after its long journey from Cardiff and was about to take it back up to my private appartments and show it the suite it would occupy whilst staying here, when it shot off again. This time it made a bee-line straight into the Hose Room where, by the time I caught up with it, it was furiously rummaging through the storage drawer units:



I am afraid that this was the last straw! Derek had told me in his letter that The Saltire was well-behaved and did not make a mess - huh! Not my experience, Derek! I grabbed at it and, making sure it did not escape my clutches again, rushed back up stairs pausing only to fully secure the vaults once more. Instead of being left alone all night, to get up to I know not what, I decided it best if our little friend had some company:



I know it'll come to no harm with my little furry friends and they will explain the Storrington Etiquette, so we'll see what the morning brings. I have an early appointment with the nurse at our Surgery - maybe it will accompany me there!

I am sure there will be more, so watch this space........

Take care,
Ham.

[Panache]

The Saltire in the heart of the fabled "Kollection"!

Absolutely Marvelous!

I hope she sees "wee Hamish" before she leaves Storrington to return home.

Good to know she is in safe hands!

Cheers

Jamie

[CelticRanger66]

Very Nice Hamish!!!

[McMurdo]

Wonderful photos so far Ham, but take it from me, keep an eye on the Saltire, you never know where it will end up within Bicknell Grange.

[pipesndrumsnun]

GREAT photos, Hamish!!

[BEEDEE]

Fantastic!!

Brian

[Spartan]

You've got a wonderful way of doing things!

[pdcorlis]

What a wonderful port of call for the wee little ship! Perhaps she lost her sense of decorum after realizing she was in the presence of true greatness in the Tower of Storrington's Kilt House.

I'm sure the bears will sort things out.

[Alan H]

chuckling

Thanks for the view of the Inner Keep!!

[beloitpiper]

Ok, so I really laughed when I saw the first photo, but then my jaw dropped and my eyes widened at the 3rd, 4th, and 5th...it's like something in a dream....