The Saga Continues

As mentioned, there was no room at the inn for the seven of us that were waiting for our nine o’clock tour and we were forced to huddle under the main door of St. Giles.  The wind and rain had gotten even worse than it had been.  We talked about cancelling and re-booking for Sunday night, as we already had another tour scheduled with the same company just beforehand.  The idea was nixed – likely because we had already waited so long another few minutes wasn’t going to hurt any more or any less.

Considering everything, the time passed quickly and one comment led to another as so often happens.  Few of them were fit for the doorway of a church.  Apparently agreed upon, by some “power that was.”  From inside the church, the organ played:  “Dah, dah, da da-h-h.”  Oops!

Occasionally, a person or two would ramble by and ask if we were waiting for a tour.

“No,” we’d answer.  “This is the refugee centre.”  Or, just for a change, the homeless shelter, we’d say.

The Murder and Mystery Tour - Janet, just
before the hanging.

Finally, the time for the tour came around.  I was wearing my parmeuse (a long wrap) but instead of throwing the one end over my shoulder as I usually do, I pulled it over my head and down the front to make a hooded cape.  Scared the bejesus out of some poor girl when we got to the meeting place.  I assume she thought I was part of the tour.

The jaunt was an outdoors walk, an hour and a quarter long and seldom did the wind and rain let up.  Everyone toughed it out, amused by the Mad Monk and Lyell the dead highway robber – sorry, can’t remember the last name.  The Monk not only amused us, he terrorized and flashed anyone walking down the street as we made our way from place to place.