The Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence

[Pleater]

Do you read palms, tealeaves and tarot cards, Pleater?

Take care,
Ham.

Alas - nothing supra-natural, just the news on TV. It really was just a coincidence that your kind consent to 'appear' arrived at my PC moments after I delivered a cup of tea to Himself in the front room, where Storrington was in the news.

My poor tale cobbles together various things in X marks - photos were posted of the over long denim kilt and Queen Victoria's Mr Brown in grey kilt suit with long hairy sporran, there are bits from the narration of Panache and davedove, the sudden outbreak of recipes on the forum, even the time travel bit is simply something trawled from the off topic section, and then hammered into place.
It is just like a beachhut constructed from whatever washed up on the shore. Fun to do though.

[Pleater]

The banqueting hall is decorated and the tables laid, the Royals have set up a mooring tower in the place they assure us is the best with regard for the wind - they spent a couple of days flying kites and making notes. There are wind socks on poles, and a radio link to the airport at Hurn and the Sea Harrier base.
There is a peculiar large wheeled thing which I am assured can carry a glass of water without spilling a drop, on the central platform.
The students have been instructed that they are to be in uniform, on the correct way to address the various visitors - even if they happen to be of a republican bent it is really not the thing to stick out your hand and say 'G'day, mate.'
Mister McGreagor has obtained access to a satelite with tracking radar and is watching the progress of the Saltire with interest - they have a following wind and are making record progress.
I have scoured the kitchens, classrooms and dormitories for anything in the least bit suspect, and lectured the gels most severely on what they are not to do. They giggle. I am sure they used to pay more attention, I cannot think what has got into them these days.
The technicians have prepared a banquet for two hundred, with a buffet for the outside staff and the Royals on separate sides of a large marquee set up between the long borders.

Matron has supervised the preparation of a suite of rooms suitable for our guest with views of the winter garden but at the quiet end of the House, just bathroom, kitchen, sitting room, study, dressing room and bedroom, nothing elaborate. The Minister has found a gentleman's gentleman and a young footman to assist in looking after Hamish, and two rather sinister looking men in black and a large 4 by 4 with smoked windows are standing by in order to ferry garments between here and Storrington. Their cred was slightly dented by my discovering them studying a thick volume of tartans when I took them some refreshments.

It is all so exciting!!

[Pleater]

We had just sighted the dirigible on the horison when I finished directing the many cars which had arrived to see the arrival. There were crowds of people all along the ridge and lining the road, and I had opened the field where we keep the sheep in the spring. One camper van left the line of vehicles and found its spot - it seemed to be maneuvering unnecessarily, and so I watched the two people who got out. They were dressed in rather ordinary clothing, they looked just like a well off but not at all trendy couple, but not quite right all the clothes were brand new. I moved rapidly toward the gate, and managed to hear a snatch of what the woman said. I had heard that voice, it was so familiar - Ivana Rulital, I passes them and the man spoke. That affected drawl could only be Evan Moore-Naste. I ran.

Beside the tent where cups of hot drink were being handed out to the crowds I saw Mister Brown. He was wearing a brown tweed kilt of a good heavy weight, with a solid dark brown jacket, and a very good Aran jersey with chunky hose, both a good match for the lighter colour of the tweed. On his head he had a tweed flat cap set horisontally with military precision, he carriage a binocular case of brown leather over one shoulder and the binoculars slung around his neck.

'They're here,' I said as I came to a halt beside him.
'They have have a rocket which they plan to fire at the Saltire.'
'They are just behind me.'
'The Saltire is not visible from here yet - there will be a clear shot once it is maneuvering to hook on.'
'The van is in the right position for that. They are coming.'
'Can you get a couple of cups of tea? They like tea - I have a couple of pills that will stop them - tranquilisers.' he added seeing my expression. 'You wouldn't have minded before.' he added, but I was already dodging through the people standing around drinking beside the tent.

I returned with a tray and two plastic cups, with packets of sugar and sweeteners. Mister Brown dropped the two tablets into the cups and stirred them, then grinned at me and I managed to neatly intercept the two of them. Moore-Naste swept past me, knocking the tray from my hands without even looking at me. Ivana Rulital simpered as she took his arm to help her up the slope.

Mister Brown was beside me in a second.
'Oh no - just look at my pinstripe.'
The tea had drenched the whole of the apron and splashed onto my pale gray fine knitted lace jersey, and was dripping onto the matching hose and slightly darker suede moccasins.
'They seem intent on getting a good view.' he said, ignoring my plight. 'Let's follow them.'
'If we let the crowd know they'll be torn to pieces.'
'That's my girl' he smiled, 'I thought that married life had made you soft.'
He took my arm and steered through the host of people making their way up the road to get to the best spot to see the dirigible's approach.
'Can you see them?'
'No, but they have to have gone this way.'
'Surely - they won't be able to get back to the van through all the people?'
'Maybe I got it wrong - if they have a remote control to activate a heat seeking rocket - perhaps even a camera to see when it comes into range. Maybe they want to get a really good view of it crashing.'
'Maybe they want to get into the House.'
'They would need to have an invitation.'
'I wouldn't put it past them to have obtained one.'
As we approached the gates Mister Brown drew out an invitation and we were waved through, there ahead of us were the two villains.

They made their way to the southern dining room where tea was being served in china cups with biscuits and cakes. A small queue had formed, which they joined with a show of impatience. Evan Moore-Naste drew a small dark device from his pocket, which might have been a mobile phone, opened it and looked at the screen, then flipped it shut.
'That's it - the remote control.' said Mister Brown.
'I'm going to get them some of a special cake.' I said quietly. 'I think that will stop them.'
'Hurry.' he said. 'If I try to get the remote they might activate it at once and then the rocket might go anywhere.
I ran to the sealed pantry, remembered the numbers for the locks, then made a tray, found an apron and headscarf, and carried the fruitcake I had made into the dining room. They were just being shown to a table, but Ivana objected, she wanted a table by the window. In the few minutes that gave us I added a pot of tea and cups to the tray and informed the waitresses that I wanted to serve the awkward couple myself.
Neither looked at me when I placed the teapot and cups on the table, nor when I cut the cake with hands that trembled so much I had to take five slices before I had two whole ones. I was holding my breath until I had covered the cake and moved away. Mister Brown was looking past me, and when I was half way across the room he slowly raised a thumb and smiled.
When I reached him he told me that they had both taken a bite of the cake.
'I'll send Ian to you with some of the security men. I must change and go out to greet the guests if you are sure that everything will be alright.'
'I'll keep watch here. What is the number of the van?'
I repeated the number and gave him the make and model.
'Any idea how long it takes to work?'
'The first effects are quite fast - look - he's taking off his jacket. He's looking very relaxed and he's smiling at her.'
'And she is smiling back. Though it could be that they think they have succeeded. Now they are eating more of the cake. Is it like being drunk?'
'I don't know. I have never been drunk.' I said, unable to counter the primness in my voice, but he just smiled.
'Of course, I should have known. I think it is all OK - send me the security men, please, if he does go for the remote I'll have to hit him with a chair if I don't have backup.'
I found Ian, he asked no questions, just rushed out, so I went home to change my clothes, again, and then joined the other directors and the VIPs on the front lawn.

It was a magnificent sight, the great airship approaching gradually losing height, and around it a little posse of Sea Harriers were dancing attendance, carefully matching speed and altitude. It took some time for the final approach, the Saltire seemed large, but that was still at a distance, it was actually enormous, and by the time the Sea Harrier escort suddenly shot vertically upward, circled and then headed back towards the coast I had seen Mister Brown reappear and this time he gave me a double thumbs up before going inside.

The noise of engines faded and the dirigible hung in the air, then there came a great musical cord, and The Entry of the Queen of Sheba was played to us from above.

[Pleater]

Gracefully the Saltire approached the mooring tower, the occupants of the gondola could be seen waving to the crowd, which was a sea of flags with the Stars and Stripes, the Saltire, the Cross of St George and Union flags, plus a few Welsh Draigs.

As the last few feet of separation were being inched away the Royals sprang into action to secure her and when that was done to then see the passengers safely onto terra firma. There were a few moments of confusion when four of the new arrivals wished to carry Hamish in the chair specially made for him, whilst the four Royals delegated to the task refused to relinquish it. Fortunately this confrontation was resolved by a rather querulous request to see passports before setting foot on English soil. In the subsequent rummaging for documents Hamish was smoothly transferred from the airship to the strange wheeled transport, which then conveyed him sedately towards the lawn. Once there he rose and greeted several dozen of those waiting to meet him, but Matron was watching with an eagle eye and soon intervened, the chair was brought and Hamish was whisked indoors to the apartment.

Mister McGreagor appeared and informed me that the security men had taken Ivana Rulital and Evan Moore-Naste to the Rotunda, where there is a secure cell, once used when the House was used as an assizes. He added that they had used a recording of themselves in order to fool those listening into thinking they were still at home. Then the Americans began to arrive, and found themselves amongst Dukes, Earls and a Prince or two being introduced to Dames, Highnesses, Countesses, Honorables and Duchesses. There arose a babble of conversation as the two sets intermingled and admired the airship in her new surroundings.

[Pleater]

The evening went very well, so I was told. I was rushing around trying to ensure that all went smoothly, and although the ice swan did crack under the weight of ice cream it was quickly welded together using liquid Nitrogen so it lasted until everyone was served.

After dinner Hamish appeared, looking rather better, and he sat and chatted away as people came and went but Mister Charles, the gentleman's gentleman, came to see him to his apartment to rest after an hour or so.

The Royals had provided an orchestra and musicians, and there was dancing in several rooms, including - so I was told, one for men only so they could still dance in their kilts even if they had neglected to bring underwear.

With such crowds things got rather warm, and most of the Saltires changed out of the heavy maroon kilts they had been wearing at the reception.

Around midnight everything outside had been secured, all the food tidied away, everything not still needed washed up, everyone who required accomodation had a room allocated, so I went to find some refreshment, and found a bottle of moscato d'asti unopened. That was soon remedied and it went well with a peach. I was sitting looking out at the stars when a group of men came in and began to dance the Highland Fling to the music of a violin.
Probably moved by the gently fizzy wine I rose and joined in.
I was wearing my ancient Armstrong, pleated to the red stripe, with a light blue tunic which had a lot of lace, edged with a thread of red, with a dark blue velvet jacket and dark blue hose, and soft black leather shoes with resilient foam soles. Before I knew it, one dance let to another, and it was a quarter to two, and the marine band master came to reclaim his bandsmen so the party was over. It was two thirty before the place was secure - but there seemed to be security men coming out of the woodwork now, so I left the house and went home.

[Pleater]

I was up early despite having has only a few hours sleep, but there were breakfasts to see to for all the local visitors, their drivers and security personnel too.
I dressed in one of my white tunics and kilts and on arriving in the House found that several people, mistaking us for a hotel, had ordered breakfast in bed. The technicians being busy I organised a trolley and Mister Charles and the younger man, also Charles, assisted me in the task. We were able to report that Hamish had had a restful night, but like all those still governed by a more western time zone, was still asleep.
Unlike a hotel we do not have a sufficient number of bathrooms, and they are set at intervals along the domestic corridors, so there were some conflict between those who considered that their half hour soak was a necessity and those who considered it a nuisance. The necessarians were invariably those in the baths and the nuisancians those waiting outside.
At last the House began to empty, though not very quickly, and quite a few thought that they might wait to say goodbye to Hamish, perhaps until after lunch if that was OK - I had to ask Matron to declare Hamish was being allowed no visitors in order to hurry things along.
Mister Brown turned up, still in the same suit as yesterday - though he looked as though he had not been wearing it long enough. it looked too freshly pressed, and he carried a binocular case across his shoulders.
'Hows everything?'
'Busy.'
'And the gruesome twosome?'
'I forgot about them - I hope someone's fed them.'
He smiled.
I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Are you coming or going?'
He blushed.
'You are too perceptive - have you ever thought of a career-'
'No. I have enough to do as it is.'
'You could find time to do it all.'
'I do - except when delayed by untimely callers.'
He went - presumably to see that all went well yesterday, and I found that no one had thought to take any food to those in the Rotunda, nor had anyone relieved those on guard. They reported that the prisoners were behaving very oddly for power hungry criminals, but that was, of course only to be expected, as without the antidote the cake would be having its full effect, which must have been quite a shock to them.
It was noon before everything was returning to any semblance of normality, no lessons were taught, the gels were playing tennis outside, the young chefs were playing football and the early risers amongst the Saltires were finding it intriguing.

[Pleater]

So much is going on - Mister McGreagor is making a website so that details of Hamish's recovery can be accessed by all those interested, local places of interest have invited the Saltires to visit, some have invited the Saltire too. There have been tankers arriving to resupply the airship's various requirements.

Ivana Rulital seems to have been converted to some sort of mysticism or possibly primitive Christianity, and has been explaining how much better it would be if everyone was nice. Evan Moore Naste wants to contact his lawyers to organise the purchase of land to plant a vineyard and orchard and a few hundred acres of organic farmland as he wants to become a vegan and work with his hands, maybe do holidays for under privileged children and help families in distressed circumstances.

We have asked the Minister if we can keep them to study what has happened to them. I wasn't sure if it was genuine, but I took some clothes over to the Rotunda - having first checked the pockets - twice. Evan Moore Nate happily selected corduroy trousers and chequered shirt with a navy blue knitted jersey, and Ivana Rulital is wearing no makeup, just some long floaty things and has tied an Isadora Duncan scarf around her head. Just to be absolutely sure I found a large paisley shawl with a fringe and offered it to her as it is rather chilly over there, and she put it around her at once, though she was rather concerned about the source, murmuring that it was not marked as being free trade or from renewable resources. I told her that it had VR in the corner - which meant Very Renewable. She beamed happily.

Back in the House Bronwen has an admirer. The Captain of the Saltire has discovered that she speaks colloquial German of the 1940's though he's developed a rather odd expression since she showed him the recording of herself as a gel riding naked on a Percheron carrying a swastika on a pole. She certainly knows how to take a rise out of a man.

Matron reports that Hamish is a lot brighter now that he has been able to send for some of his kilts, though Mister Charles is to go over to Storrington later in order to get the correct combinations of garments to go with them all. He has also drunk several lots of the Fortifying Beef Tea made to the recipe from the notebook. It is now being referred to as the Narnia Notebook - being found in a large ornate wardrobe it was almost inevitable, I suppose.

She also reports that one of the Saltires has sustained an injury from one of the rabbits. Having found his way to the rabbit pens he seems to have tried to peel the fur off one of the larger bucks whilst it was still in a state to protest, which it did with both back feet.
'He was holding it in between his knees at the time,' she sighed, 'But I hope that the cold compress will help.'
'Did he say why he - er why?'
'He was just saying ''Sporran. Sporran.'' when the technicians carried him into the infirmary.'
'Will he be alright?'
'That rather depends on what degree of right is required.'
I went down to the pens. The rabbit was looking rather ruffled, and kept washing its ears and whiskers. I picked it up and soothed it, then I gave it a carrot to eat whilst I carefully brushed its long lusterous fur. The bucks are big fellows and grow a heavy pelt in the winter. When I had finished the grooming it sat up on its haunches and looked at me, obviously perplexed by its experience.
'Don't you worry - you will have a long and happy life and meet lots of does,' I assured it.

[Pleater]

Daphne tells me that she has asked Hamish if he could think about giving a few talks to the trainee chefs before they go on their trip to Scotland in the spring. She would like them to be able to wear the kilt properly, both traditional and modern, and it will do them no harm to have a bit of contact with someone who dresses well.
'They might do well to learn a few dances, it is a stressful life and dancing helps with that and it is good exercise to work off all those calories.'
'Did Hamish agree?'
'Yes - he started to make a few notes at once. He should do a good job, I think.'
'His dress sense is considered to be quite superb.'
She asked me about the incident with the rabbit. I assured her that the injury was being treated, and that the rabbit was unhurt.
'It seems rather a strange thing to do.'
'Well. Not very sensible. It was one of the young bucks I'm keeping for breeding, and although he has the best coat I have seen on a rabbit, it isn't all that easy to remove from a live rabbit. I expect he'll improve the quality of the pelts if we are careful to select the right does.'
'I'm sure you'll manage splendidly. It might be an idea to ask the Yanks to keep an eye on that fellow - he might try again.'
'I'll find one of their security team, they're fairly unmissable in their red jerseys and maroon kilts.'
There were already two security men at the bedside of their injured companion. They seemed to be quite concerned about him, as he was still murmuring 'sporran sporran' at intervals. I assured them that the rabbit had not been hurt and that I was hopeful of him fathering many offspring with similar coats.
'The pelts would make good sporrans, I expect. Would long white fur sporrans be popular in the States?'
Their expressions became somewhat glazed, and they nodded as they reached out and seized the patient as he tried to sit up in bed. They pushed him back with such vigour that the breath was knocked out of him. He never the less went on burbling.
'Did he say his aunt would want one? Is she in a pipe band?'
The third security man turned up just then, and began to converse with the other two in urgent whispers, so I left them to it.

[Pleater]

The Saltire had been away on a tour, visiting an old wool spinning mill various fabric related places in the Midlands of England, where they ordered a considerable quantity of hose and quite a few pairs of shoes and boots to be made for them. They then continued North, and have made quite an impression, according to the TV News. Despite the strength of the currency they seem to have bought a considerable amount of tartan, some numbers of ready made kilts and placed orders for made to measure ones.

There have been visits to various stately homes and castles, particularly those specialising in historic reenactings, and to battlefields. They came back by way of various distilleries and breweries.

A considerable number of packages and crates had arrived and been stacked up awaiting their return. It was perhaps the thought of all their new acquisitions which made the Saltires hurry from their airship.

At the House we had been able to return to some sort of normal routine whilst they had been away. I had been able to finish a few kilts and show the final stages of the process to some of the students, and a couple have even bought some material to make casual kilts for themselves. Mister McGreagor had cut the bottom off his long denim kilt and wore it with indigo dyed cotton hose, though he still retained the cardigan, and since he did not hem it, after a couple of washes it was beginning to fray.

Hamish continued to regain his strength. He went out into the garden several times, and even managed to ascend to the belvedere for afternoon tea, as the weather was fine, calm and clear. Matron reported herself very pleased with his progress.

[Pleater]

We had received news that the Saltire was on the last leg of the return journey when I was called to the gatehouse. The Minister has increased security so there are always men at the gate, and I had asked them to keep a lookout for someone who I could test my cake on - this was a cake which I had devised to have much less effect than the one which had caused my euphoria and such drastic alterations in Ivana Rulital and Evan Moore-Naste.

I had baked an entirely innocuous rich fruit cake and placed it in a large glass terrarium, otherwise empty, with the active one, for three hours.

I hoped that this would produce something which would just put a little twist into a life, not send it off to hug trees.

At the gate was a gaunt and haggard individual, and from his clothing I judged him to have traveled far and not well. He wore a ragged kilt beneath a drover's coat, a hat that might have been leather or suede was pulled down on his brow, and the brim sagged to his collar.

He seemed to have something about him, and I felt that he was someone who had suffered a great loss which had brought him to this state. His eyes shone in the shadow of the horrible hat, and I decided that here was someone who could probably benefit from a bit of the Christmas spirit.

'Would you like some tea and sandwiches? Perhaps a bit of cake?'
He seemed rather overcome, and unable to speak, and so gave a nod. I took him around the House, with one of the security men as escort, and showed him where he might wash whilst something was prepared for him.

I brought the cake beneath a bowl so that it would not lose anything to the air before it was eaten, and presented it after a plain beef sandwich in white bread. I indicated to the escort that I wished to speak to him and so had him move away, just in case.

The cake was eaten, every crumb, and the tea drunk. The man seemed to think that he would be put out onto the road again, but I delayed him by asking if he would like a clean shirt. I found one in the cupboard in the laundry, rather a lurid purple but I thought that it would not matter as long as it was clean and about the right size.
He went off to put it on, but he seemed to be rather a long time. When he returned he had removed his hat and washed his hair, which was rather short, but thick and curly.
He sat down and told me, in a voice so quiet that I had to strain to hear how he had come to find one of the Saltires, and when he had found him he had decided to kill him. He put a hand to his curls.
'I was dancing with his wife - how I regret it now - tossing my mane of golden curls as we circled the floor, her hair flowing-' he gave a deeps heartfelt sigh. 'I was enraged beyond reason when he used sheep shearing clippers to remove my hair. His friends got him away, but when I recovered from the shock I set off after him to take my revenge. They were clever, misdirecting me to different countries - the worst was Australia - how I hate Australia!!' he gave a violent shudder. 'But I suppose they can't help it, I mean - someone has to live there. But how can they stand all those sheep?'
I shook my head.
'Do you feel - changed - now?' I asked.
'I could not look at myself before, but I seem to have discovered an inner peace. All I want to do now is ask pardon of the man I wronged, and then perhaps I will go home.'
'The Saltire is expected here in a few days. I think that the man you seek is on her - if you are truly changed then you may remain here until the air ship arrives and make your peace.'
He smiled beatifically.
'That is all I wish to do.'