They didn’t emerge—no, scratch that. They did emerge, but not for dinner and company. Stephen went for his usual ten mile hangover cure, because he was apparently a mutant who could outrun a raging headache. Mike shuffled down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, which was revoltingly fancy and continental, without a glimpse of a bacon butty anywhere.
“This is Scotland,” he moaned to Stephen later. “Where’s the bloody bacon!”
“This is posh Scotland,” came the shouted reply over the shower water.
“No such bloody thing.”
“It’s not all deep fried Mars Bars and haggis, you know.”
“Those are the only good bits,” Mike protested.
The bathroom door opened and Stephen wandered out from his second shower of the morning, completely naked, and Mike paused in his raid of the tea supplies.
“Alr
