Today, despite the persistence of the drizzle (curiously lemon in its character), Fletcher was up bright and early to deliver a message to a delightful household in distant Pilrig. Stopping for a chai latte and a croissant in a most welcoming bistro, he happened upon a friend of old who leapt at the opportunity to utilise his services for another message, this time to a café in Marchmont. Fletcher was to meet this old friend again later in the day, on his way to the wonderfully named Olly Bongo’s. Meantime, meanderings in the company of Butlers Thompson, Newsam and Jancis, punctuated by a rather tasty butternut squash soup and the purchase of brysselkex for a more sedate tea, led inevitably to yet another delivery, this time to a mystery address in South Side. The increasingly dismal weather failed to dampen Fletcher’s spirits as he sourced a most excellent haggis supper before a swift assignation with those fish who are kinky, followed by a rather soapy evening dram with Butler Newsam. By this time, Fletcher’s mind was in turmoil, following the unexpected revelation that he had been mentioned in technological dispatches by a certain Ms. Gardner, something which, although most welcome and complimentary, might somewhat increase his workload. Still, what is a Butler for if not to be of service?
Fletcher the Butler
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