Our trip to Inverness last week was to be a few days of taking it easy.
Mrs X and her Canon DSLR were booked to do some property photoshoots while I could indulge in some leisurely shopping in outlets that do not focus on just slim fit shirts.
Monday went well and pretty much according to that plan. Then came Tuesday.
I decided to take her to a plush place with connections to royalty. If it is good enough for Prince Andrew then Pizza Express is good enough for my lady who lunches.
While waiting in their outdoor seating area at the edge of Falcon Square for her lasagna classica and my cannelloni, we were joined by a young chap who seemed eager to be conversational – whatever we thought.
He thought we would be more likely to engage if he became obnoxious. ‘Twasn’t so and Mrs X duly invited him to take his leave. That prompted our uninvited guest to release a stream of insults in her direction that would make Gordon Ramsay blush.
Do you know my mystery security man?
I was up in a flash, ready to defend the honour of the gracious lady. With no sword in my scabbard, I tried to use my width to block him from even seeing Mrs X, in the hope he would quietly depart.
What else can I do? I’ll scream like for someone to call the cops. I thought I’d better do that before matey boy put me on my derrière.
So loudly did I shriek that I think I blew the froth off the cappuccinos on the three nearest tables. Then another stranger pushed in and took over dealing with the foul-mouthed interloper.
The new arrival nodded to me to put my bottom back on my chair, adding: “I got this.” He then ushered away the sweary offender. By the time the police did roll up, there was little left to see – not even my cannelloni.
Sadly, I didn’t get that mystery security man’s name. I called the Eastgate Centre and Inverness BID but they couldn’t figure out who the Good Samaritan was. He was distinctive as he had dreadlocks and a dark uniform which said TPS Security, or something similar. If you know him, please contact The P&J and ask them to pass me a message.
Thanks too to the Pizza Express staff who came out when they realised what was going on, rolling their sleeves up. You have to be careful not to upset restaurant people. They work with knives and other sharp implements. Always be polite to them. Grazie mille davvero, adorabili persone.
A £12,925 bottle of whisky
Unfortunately, Mrs X has not been well since that excitement. When we came back, she toasted a piece of bread from a packet which was open before we went away. It was mouldy. Sick as a dog she has been. Another warning – you have to be careful not to upset your stomach by eating old, mouldy bread. It can be dangerous, too.
Yet a bottle of whisky from 1941 is still drinkable – just. Rescued from the wreck of the SS Politician – which ran aground in 1941 near Eriskay, and is what Whisky Galore was very loosely based on – the historic bottle was given a conservative valuation estimate of £5,000 to £6,000 at auction last week. A bidding war between mystery individuals pushed the price to £12,925.
South Uist man John Morrison with whisky from the SS Politician when it ran aground in 1941. Picture: TSPL pic.twitter.com/3tPVFbDzbl
— PictureThis Scotland (@74frankfurt) January 15, 2017
It was one of only 10 bottles recovered during a dive in 1987. The rest were presumed to be, er, unaccountably missing. One bottle was gingerly opened. The verdict: “A slight smell of sulphur when first uncorked. But the contents are smooth, mellow and still a wonderful taste.” Wow. Like that smooth, mellow Good Samaritan who came to our aid in Inverness.
We should remember, however, that not all kind acts are well-received. A woman tried getting on a bus on Academy Street in Inverness the other day. She realised her skirt was too tight. Embarrassed, she reached behind to unzip her skirt a little so she could raise her leg. No joy. She again reached behind to unzip a little more but still was unable to step up. Now mortified, she again attempted to unzip her skirt.
Then a large man from Culloden, who was standing behind her, picked her up and placed her on the first step. She was furious and shouted: “How dare you? I don’t even know you.”
The man smiled and said: “Well, madam, after you undid my zip three times I thought we were becoming friends.”
- Editor’s note: If you are or think you know Iain’s Inverness Good Samaritan, send us an email to comment@ajl.co.uk