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My Atticus Finch is a racist moment
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On my way to Orkney, where the laid back locals have embraced the concept of food being available all day. I take a detour to Drumnadrochit, where they haven't. "We stopped serving at two sir, come back between six and eight thirty."

So I take myself off to Glenurquhart Lodge Hotel, where my father worked all those years ago, only to be pleasantly surprised. "We have a private function set up for local B&Bs, a bit of PR for the hotel, feel free to help yourself, and make sure you grab a glass of cava." There's hospitality!

In the lounge adjacent to the bar there is a wall of books, presumably left by residents, and one in particular catches my eye. Cook Now, Dine Later. My dad had this very volume when he was head chef here, is it too fanciful to assume this was his copy? You know that beat where your heart skips? Well here it is. I open the book's cover - it's a first edition - and there on the flyleaf, to my astonishment, is my father's signature and the legend 'Isle of Man, 1969'. 

Later, whilst reading the contents, I have my 'Atticus Finch is a racist moment'. 

Memory serves that my dad was a very good chef for his times, so why would he have this dated (even then) drivel in his collection? What could he have gleaned from this to add to the sum of his knowledge?
At the old Drumnadrochit Hotel I stride through the imposing façade straight into the Loch Ness Exhibition Centre - a dark, subterranean hellhole. I shout above the cacophony at a black panel of glass marked Ticket Office, "Didn't this used to be a hotel"? From the depths comes a disembodied voice, "It still is, the hotel is now in the new bit, ask for directions at the gift shop".
Next day whilst breakfasting obscenely early I ask the waiter to turn down the infernally loud bagpipe music. "I can't do that sir the tourists love it". "Do they? 

Do they really"? I mutter darkly. When two members of staff start building a semi-circle of chairs around me I naturally ask why. "It's for a musical recital on Sunday night." This is a Thursday morning. I give up the good fight and leave. 

P.S. I was so caught up in my time bubble I didn't notice until later that Glenurquhart Lodge Hotel has been called Loch Ness House Hotel for the past 20 years.

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