The Black Bitch.

I took Herself to Polmont to see Mr Poodle this morning. This august gentleman is World famous throughout Scotland, and many parts of northern England, for being - not so much a sewing machine repair man – but more, a sewing machine engineer. He appears to be able to talk authoritatively on every model from every manufacturer, dating back to the time when Mr Singer was but a lad. You don’t just walk into his shop, pay, and walk out with your machine; first you have to listen to his lecture on how to avoid the fault that he has just had to repair for you. I do love to hear him talk, he speaks with such knowledge and eloquence. With fifty machines in his shop awaiting his attentions, he can well afford to offer advice on how to avoid needing his services; he could also afford to increase his  modest charges.
 
We took Merlin for a stroll around Linlithgow palace before having lunch in the Burgh Halls Cafe, the lunch was good but, unusually for them their coffee wasn’t; however, a stimulating chat with Kaybee, who was selling his wood turnings at the craft fair in the Masonic Lodge next door put the world to rights.
 
The Blip is of a sort of crest in the foyer of the lodge and features “The Black Bitch,” chained up on an island in the loch and left to die; her crime was stealing and delivering food to her master, another thief who was chained on an adjacent island.
 
The first extra is of the statue in the High Street of St Michael, to whom the  church behind the Burgh Halls is dedicated; he is depicted holding the town shield  with another  depiction of the bitch; the second is of the wilting decoration on our table in the cafe – there was water in the marmalade jar, it just fell half an inch short of the flower stem.