Iniquitous Pagan Composting/The Cursing Cats of Khem

R has had a two day migraine. He hasn't been able to work and is even now in bed asleep. I am thinking that part of it is due to looking at screens for far too long, but wonder if there isn't an element of stress on my account. Enough of this mularky! I am awake now and making up my mind; surgery after hot tub weekend. It may be the last time I really like the sight of myself in a swimsuit for a while at least, so I will enjoy that little vanity and then on we go. Course, we don't have dates for hot tube weekend yet but the pin is in the map.

Meanwhile...


I've heard a lot about the legendary local farmer but this is a new one, courtesy of the West Lothian Courier 1940 and rediscovered by Badger's sister.

Captain Jenks doesn't seem to have been the most gifted of horticulturalists, famously nailing his seed potatoes to the ground so that crows wouldn't take them. He had been more successful in his earlier, er, interesting trades on the high seas, a bearded swarthy character who brought back a Peruvian wife and three servants. These latter, to the bewilderment of locals, could carry baskets of stuff on their heads. Were the guid folk of Bathgate not baffled enough by such wonders, Captain Jenks daringly proceeded to build a house with a flat roof and many glass windows. This met with astonished disbelief: surely such a man was capable of iniquitous pagan composting! The reality of the glass purchase is verified by the existence of recorded receipts, but no-one quite knows where his house was. We think we've found possible remains but can't be sure.

There were many rumours around his disappearance, the least sinister of which is that he went back to sea. Some say he killed his wife and servants and ran away, some say they killed him and ran away, some say they all disappeared into the mists together... but I've decided the cats got him in the end.