One of the benefits of church on Sunday was the gifts afterwards. The lady who cornered me into going - no, that's not fair: who induced my visit - was handing out fudge rations. Only just emerging from the Octoberfast, I packed mine away for gradual consumption. But actually, I feel pigging is better that moderate consumption. If I overdo it, there's just a chance that some of the calories will escape unconsumed. I have just tested that theory with the fudge: very nice, too.
I'm now in a new town, and have to find all the necessities of life: somewhere for breakfast, a nice boozer to walk to, and a decent supply of grown-up ladies. So far I've failed to find a breakfast place, but the hotel does a free carbs-and-coffee offering, which might have to do. There does seem to be one boozer in town, right in the centre: I found people drinking there at four in the afternoon: that's promising, isn't it?
But the main item on the agenda is the grown-up ladies. I have to find a library and a historical society. To my surprise, the library doesn't open till the middle of the afternoon, but the historical society is just across the road, in a delightful what-Americans-like-to-call-Victorian mansion, built by a local banker. Apparently, it had got to be a nunnery before the HS got it. It has the necessary local histories, and the duty grown-up lady digs out the Post Office History for me.
It's another Post Office. I'm not going to find out much till I get to the Post Office archive in DC. But I do my best to dig out ancestors and wives' names. This are another set of Scots, who are required ot call everybody by the same name. Ancestors, dates, and wives' names might turn out to be useful.
Waiting for the library to open, I went back to Glasgow to retake the faulty pictures from yesterday. Of course, they won't be as good, just the right colour.
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