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There is a ghostly presence in the house. It appears every two weeks or so, out of the Edinburgh mist, usually early in the morning, afore the haggis (and for that matter kilts) are rising. The lock will rattle slightly, then the door handle give a slight squeak. Faint footsteps trail down the hallway...
Afterwards, strange things will have happened: perhaps a pile of washing moved, or the kitchen floor strangely clean; cushions plumped; and tea towels disappeared.
Tea towels disappeared, yes indeed. I questioned Jill (my landlord Neil's wife) about this the other day, as our accessible supply of tea-towels has reduced consistently over the weeks I've been here, down to 1 at the last count. Jill looked around in a slightly nervous way. "Ah yes, that would be Mrs. Stirrup. She has a thing about people stealing tea towels, so she takes them all upstairs."
The other thing about Mrs. Stirrup is I can never quite make out what she is called. Both Jill and Neil speak of her in such reverential tones that their voices are barely audible as they utter her name. It may be Mrs. Stirrup, possibly Mrs. Stirrit, or Mrs. Syrup. She has been "the Auld Retainer" for so long that I'm fairly sure that once she does retire, washing and cushions will continue to move themselves of their own accord on a fortnightly basis for some time to come. Apparently this mistrust of students (that is, anyone under 55) extends to any household item belonging to Jill or Neil, so anything left out is in danger of being forcibly repatriated to the upstairs of the house.
I have made contact with the mysterious lady, using a washboard in place of the ouija. Her weight is marginally above what it would be were she really a ghost. She is around 4' 3", plus the obligatory fluffy white hair, and a clipped Scottish accent which is quite difficult (for me) to decipher. Fortunately we haven't got much past the state of the weather as yet. I'm hoping to discuss the finer points of Airdrie's away form in a week or two.
Meanwhile, Jill brought me down a fresh pile of tea towels, which I have hidden.
Afterwards, strange things will have happened: perhaps a pile of washing moved, or the kitchen floor strangely clean; cushions plumped; and tea towels disappeared.
Tea towels disappeared, yes indeed. I questioned Jill (my landlord Neil's wife) about this the other day, as our accessible supply of tea-towels has reduced consistently over the weeks I've been here, down to 1 at the last count. Jill looked around in a slightly nervous way. "Ah yes, that would be Mrs. Stirrup. She has a thing about people stealing tea towels, so she takes them all upstairs."
The other thing about Mrs. Stirrup is I can never quite make out what she is called. Both Jill and Neil speak of her in such reverential tones that their voices are barely audible as they utter her name. It may be Mrs. Stirrup, possibly Mrs. Stirrit, or Mrs. Syrup. She has been "the Auld Retainer" for so long that I'm fairly sure that once she does retire, washing and cushions will continue to move themselves of their own accord on a fortnightly basis for some time to come. Apparently this mistrust of students (that is, anyone under 55) extends to any household item belonging to Jill or Neil, so anything left out is in danger of being forcibly repatriated to the upstairs of the house.
I have made contact with the mysterious lady, using a washboard in place of the ouija. Her weight is marginally above what it would be were she really a ghost. She is around 4' 3", plus the obligatory fluffy white hair, and a clipped Scottish accent which is quite difficult (for me) to decipher. Fortunately we haven't got much past the state of the weather as yet. I'm hoping to discuss the finer points of Airdrie's away form in a week or two.
Meanwhile, Jill brought me down a fresh pile of tea towels, which I have hidden.
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