Belying their patient posture, Culloden's 79 took note of their number and made a bold move. I looked up from my keyboard one day in June to discover Stanley missing along with all those lovely wing-backed, white leather chairs.
They've brought in turf and moss and heather to make their beds while they wait in turn. For a while there, they were queued up and the line went out the door. And although they don't mind standing around for a hundred years or two--they've done it before--it was making me nervous.