‘Can’t you just see how it would be good to murder someone here?’ said Daughter as we strolled through Ceres (which is in Fife and not a heavenly body). I could. What she meant was that Ceres was so pretty that it might be a Scottish Midsomer. We even arrived just in time for the church fête, which was not at the church, but at the manse, I think. It looked very nice, and I hope it ended free from corpses.
We stopped to have lunch at a café which Daughter and the Resident IT Consultant had tried once before, and we had the all day breakfast, which was nice. And the café was nice. The people who ran it were pleasant and helpful.
I mention this because it was in sharp contrast to a new (at least to me) tearoom Daughter and I ended up in earlier in the week. Closer to home, it is no candidate for Midsomer, although it did appear to have the corpse. As I went up to the counter to pay, I encountered the feet and lower legs of the lady who had served us. Horizontal, they were. But since they moved, I decided she might still be alive.
After some considerable wait she realised she had to stop searching for a matching cup and saucer in what must have been an exceptionally low cupboard, and actually serve her customers. I doubt I’ll be back. The place was deserted but she still saw fit to tell us where to sit, which was at one of the two small tables for two, in the middle of the room, when there were many larger and more comfortable looking tables. If it had been busy I wouldn’t have minded so much.
I reckon there was a reason this place was empty when the others we looked in on were packed.