Missing

This is granddaughter Imogen who was savvy enough to lose a tooth when she visited the Dower House this morning, ensuring that the Edinburgh tooth fairy, a bit old in the tooth herself, was on hand to give the necessary reward before the Perthshire one is notified and has to fly up to the pillow at Rannoch.

She came with her Mum, sister and wee brother when they acted like locusts at a feast of crisps and biscuits- absolutely none of which you would have let your own children eat but which is allowable when you are an irresponsible granny.

Big brother missed out as he was at Port Edgar with his dad to buy a wetsuit for playing about with canoes on Loch Rannoch. No doubt he will be told about the prodigious amount of Jammy Dodgers and chocolate crispy things that vanished off the table, during his absence.

Daughter#2, was not actually one of the locusts, confining herself to strong coffee, as she was feeling far too fragile after a night out, having dinner in the Castle at the invitation of her army surgeon registrars.

I gather there was a prolonged tasting of fine wines and port and much formality, where she was addressed as "Ma'am" and rather liked it.

This afternoon I'm hoping to watch the toughest day so far in the Tour de France. You can't beat watching other people suffering for their sport, especially when you've done your own suffering on the tread mill somewhat earlier.
The only difference being, I don't get paid for it.