Smoking pipes

Listening to My neighbour the firefighter by Paul Barton and The cook who couldn’t cook by Bingo Gazingo

I had intended to bore anyone reading this with a bit more information on the family tree, and upset the Colonel in the process. That is going to wait for another day. I was asked to go and play the pipes at the local hotel – Les Quatre Fesses. It used to have a proper name, but the new owners have gone upmarket and someone told them a French name would be good – the Auld Alliance, quality cuisine, going home hungry…

I arrived just before the ambulance did. A guest with a nut allergy had ordered the only thing on the menu that had nuts in it (allegedly). Her father, a dentist with a weak heart, had rushed off to get her epi-pen, and tripping in his rush, proceeded to give himself a shot of adrenalin. Obviously, with a heart condition, this is probably not considered to be a good thing. The para medics arrived in time to give the daughter a shot while the rest of us tried our best to avoid being knocked over by her father bouncing off the walls, then both headed happily for hospital. I am pleased to report both are well.

I had been asked to pipe for a gathering of sports and super cars. Due in at 6pm, there was still no sign of the cars by 9pm. I am not going to name the cars, but having a £2m car obviously doesn’t mean you can read a map. Searches revealed that there were sports cars scattered the length and breadth of the Highlands, some on the road, some in the ditch and the others in garages having discovered that not all Highland roads are built for low sitting cars.

Eventually, as the last of the cars had been towed in, I was due to pipe the drivers into dinner. Just as I was about to start, the fire alarm went off and the hotel evacuated. Have you ever noticed how long it takes for people to decide that the fire alarm might be a fire alarm and they should probably move?

The fire engines arrived in a flurry of gravel and extremely expensive paint chips on sports cars. It did not take long to discover the source of the fire. The blackened door of room 104 was a good clue. The firemen threw open the door to find an old man, complete with cap, soot blackened face and a half smoked cigarette – “Would there be any chance of an ash tray?”