Cafe Society

Today was too coarse to walk up to the Kirk.  I got a taxi, ably driven by the Current Mrs Creel.  CMC rarely attends the café as she is usually through in Kirkwall having her piano lesson (as prescribed by her GP).  After we had parked, I noticed Geordie standing ootside ‘listening’.  He pointed it out to me (although he didn’t really have to).  The noise from inside was amazing.  He said it put him in mind of the time in Stenness when there used to be a plethora of deep litter hen hooses.  He said you could hear the hens from about a quarter of a mile away.  We entered (me and Geordie).  Meantime CMC had already entered and dived straight in the deep end – as can be seen.  Never has the word ‘cackling’ seemed so applicable.  We didn’t mention it – we’re no stupid.  On the respectably behaved table the topics of the day included linesmen in North Ronaldsay, Rubovia, Karen’s visit to Lyness, Liz’s knee op, worldwide commodity trading and Fanny Craddock.   The post lady (in the peedie vestry) was doing a brisk trade in penny blacks.