Maeshowe Here's How

On my first trip to Orkney, a conversation with a local in a pub in Stromness, established that the most impressive neolithic site on the island was Maeshowe - a chambered cairn dating to 2800 BC. With limited time on the island, my friend Katherine and I then planned a lightning excursion to the neolithic sites ending up with Maeshowe. 

This would have been a straightforward day trip, except we had scheduled it for the middle of Storm Arwyn. It was a blizzard!

I lost my sense of direction walking round the Ring of Brodgar, and in the white-out conditions I could not see the road we had arrived on, Katherine's car or indeed Katherine.  I felt I was destined to walk round the neolithic stone circle for ever until exposure got me.

I was already fairly well advanced on the exposure front.  My desperate survival strategy was to leave the circle at various points that felt strategic and just walk outwards radially. After a certain stage I would retreat back to the circle. Anyhow, on the fifth such outwards walk, I caught a sighting of the car - phew!  Ötzi - it was not my time!

Afterwards, as we came up to the turn-off for Maeshowe, Katherine said "I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm hungry. Let's head in the other direction to Kirkwall for food".  I replied "This could be the one time in our lives, we get an opportunity to see Maeshowe. It could be now or never, do you still want to go to Kirkwall?". "Yes" came the resounding reply.

Anyhow, we thawed out spectacularly in a hostelry in Kirkwall. I had my first satisfactory experience with cheesy chips.

On my second trip to Orkney, I made certain that Katherine and I had a clear run to Maeshowe on our last day. But it was locked up! By an amazing coincidence a tour party came by with the key. "Can we join you?" we asked. "No, we are limited by numbers due to H&S and anyway, you have to buy a ticket first".

On my third visit to Orkney, my friend Scott and I looked up tickets online, but only one ticket was left!  What were we to do? Scott suggested I buy the one remaining ticket, and then to introduce him as my carer at the visitor centre.

As soon as I emerged from Scott's car at the visitor centre car park, my stage limp was already in place. Scot stayed in the car, and I had a little chat with the combined shop attendant and tour guide making sure my limp was exhibited to best advantage.

Thankfully, they were geared up for carers. Of course they could rustle up an extra carer's ticket, and the worst part is that the carer's ticket was free. I felt awful, a strong desire to see a neolithic tomb had now transmogrified into financial deception. :-( I would like to send out my eternal apologies to the Maeshowe staff in this forum.

A mini-bus took us from the visitors' centre to the mound. Unfortunately, there was still a long cross-country walk from the destination bus stop to Maeshowe proper, and I found that prolongedly maintaining the limp, created using muscular tension, was no making my leg hurt badly. Towards the end of the Maeshowe excursion, I worked out I only had to "mime" the limp which I could do simply by timing, but by that stage the damage had been done and it still hurt.

No photography is allowed in Maeshowe and indeed this is as it should be. When you have travelled a long way to experience an architectural space, why then should you dilute/taint that experience with a vulgar photograph? Taking a photograph in public is almost as bad as using a mobile phone in public. It creates a social tension. Few people want to be in a photograph and taking a photo is intrinsically contrary to a group dynamic.

I occasionally sneak in a photo as an aide-memoir or souvenir, but I make sure it is not intruding on anyone else, and often have no photographic record just for this reason. When I get a private view of a building, then it is due to the courtesy of the host, and particularly in this instance I would simply not get my camera out.

Anyhow, what I did record was a short video on the approach to Maeshowe as it had been a long time coming, and I had believed with the two previous fails that I had missed out for a lifetime. With the just one ticket remaining, I had though the third occasion was going to be yet another fail.

I would agree with the local in the pub, that Maeshowe is probably the one unmissable attraction than Orkney, even ahead of Skara Brae and the amazing St, Magnus cathedral. However, limit your expectations: the central chamber is only 5m by 5m - just the size of a standard living room. What is special is the sense of atmosphere and history.

When a group of vikings took shelter in the chamber in a snowstorm in the

12th Century, the structure was already ancient, and the newcomers left some carved runes behind. A historian's dream!

After the tour guide has done the main spiel in the interior of the cairn, the lights are switched off and a hand torch is shone askance on the walls. The runes, previously invisible, jump into existence. It is a magical coup de théâtre. I try not to do my homework before any visit and the runes were totally unexpected. I could kick myself, as I thought I had examined the interior thorough as I was determined to take full advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Maeshowe is a exercise in the philosophy of the "intactness of space". Despite a 1910 replacement roof at the very top of the central chamber, this was the same space that was also special to our neolithic ancestors. I could tell, before the tour guide explained, that the white painted arches at the top of the chamber were more recent, as arches only really came in during the Roman era.

The age-old debate is what this large central chamber and its three side chambers were used for. I was very strongly drawn to climb into the raised side-chambers (not permitted!) as it is human nature to climb into cosy safe spaces. Were these burial chambers or bed chambers? Absolutely no bones were found at Maeshowe and indeed this is the case for many neolithic long barrows. Wouldn't an historic clearing-out of tombs have left some bones?

In any case, the point is that construction is in our nature, and these ancient structures form one of the most enduring and most profound channels of human communication across time. After three attempts to answer the call, I was most definitely listening.

One of the most iconic carvings in the chamber is the charming "Maeshowe Dragon". Scott bought a badge bearing the image in the giftshop. I was quite envious, and would have bought one too had I spotted it. :-) Some sources refer to it as a lion, and that's my feeling about the creature too.


 

The Maeshowe Dragon/Lion

Maeshowe Visitors' Centre

Dining Room Fireplace

In a most unexpected and uncharacteristic burst of house-keeping, my builders decided to tidy up the area around the castle’s dining room fireplace.  I was told that the remaining in-situ sections of pink granite mantelpiece would have to be removed for the tidying to occur, so I decided to photograph the process.

first photo

In the first photo you can see the start of the work. A 1950’s (?) concrete infill has started to be chipped out. The circular hole in the concrete would have allowed a stove to be connected up to the fireplace, which would have been infinitely more efficient than the original open fireplace.

second photo

In the second photo you can see the brick "throating" which would have been inserted in the 1950’s (?) to improve the draw of the stove.

third photo

In the third photo the original fireplace has been revealed. It is impressively large and open with an elegant and subtle arch. The original metal insert has long since gone. It will be rewarding to put something beautiful back in this location. We now have a starting point.

Entrance Porch

Even though Angus Council banned the opening ceremony for the newly restored Great Hall at Balintore Castle, one positive outcome is that the original architect for the restoration project called Paul Bradley, came up from Suffolk specially for the occasion. It was so lovely to see him again.

Paul was able to take an "after" photo of the entrance porch at the castle, to go with the "before" photo he had taken many years previously. Often it takes someone from outside to capture progress. With the door repaired and repainted; the vegetation removed; and the urns returned, things are looking much better.

In fact, you can see clearly how the urns complete the composition of the porch. How did I ever manage without them? :-)

entrance porch before

entrance porch after

Broughty Castle

For reasons far more interesting than this blog entry will ever be, I had to kill some time away from the castle on Thursday, so local historic buildings were the order of the day. Broughty Castle in Dundee was the most obvious solution: it is nearby and I had unbelievably never visited before.

I generally don't get much time away from Balintore, so the respite from restoration duty was very welcome. Broughty Castle is now a small free museum run by Dundee Council, and is a brilliant asset for tourists. The problem is that locals tend to visit small museums only once, thereafter only taking visiting friends, so my impression was that visitor numbers could be on the low side.

The exterior of the castle and its location are arresting: a tall tower on a rocky promentory above the sea. So the castle is a good side-diversion for visitors to Broughty Ferry beach, and I suspect this is how it gets most of its visitors.

The interior of the castle is somewhat disappointing for architecture fans, as there are no clues as how to interpret the mediaeval building - constructed in 1490 and restored in 1860. The museum galleries were modern looking rooms. The only clues as to antiquity were the deep window recesses cutting through the massive stone walls and the vast timber ceiling beams, which although installed presumably in 1860, recalled the original mediaeval beams.

The problem is that the 1860 reworking of the building was to turn it into a "modern" artillary defence against a looming French invasion. In short, the make-over IMHO lost the mediaeval charm. A second sandstone ashlar tower was added to the orginal white rendered tower i.e. a new-L shaped extension was bolted onto one corner of the ancient rectangular structure. The new tower was not constructed without care i.e. it is in a mediaeval style, but considerations of preserving the archaeology of the older structures were not so much in vogue then. 

The castle's small modern generic municipal museum feel, could be turned into something far more spectacular and far more suited to its incredible setting. For example, I would like to know which room  was the orginal Great Hall, and to look at the vaulted(?) lower floors which visitors bypass to get to the gift shop, where visits start and end. All in all, I could find almost no information on the Web on the actual structure of the building. The best online source I could find is here.

I asked in the gift shop for a book on the castle. There was none. There had once been a thickish pamphlet but this was now out of print, and they had a single reference copy. The impression given is that although the building is very much in plain site of Dundee citizens, much less is known about the structure of the building than most other castles.

The modern military use of the building continued until the end of 1945!

I bought an interesting book in the gift shop on "reading" castles and this rather than one on Broughty Castle itself, that I might have preferred, is how I made my donation to the building.

I arrived at the Broughty Ferry beach car park early in the morning. On the journey, the sunshine at Balintore gave way to thick sea fog hanging over the Tay. The combination of fog and strong sunshine is a magic one for photographs. I remember a famous photographer saying that you do not a get a good photograph unless there is moisture in the atmosphere to make the light interesting and for the image to be of that transient moment i.e. distingusing that unique split-second from a bland summer continuum of bright sunshine.

Anyhow, as the fog blew off during the course of the morning. I took a series of photographs. I was not "taking photographs" as such but recording moments that caught my eye as I walked around. I held back often when it might have appeared that I was sticking a camera into someone's face. The resulting 7 photos below are not conventional but just me having fun.

The last photo shows that Dundee not only has a beach but a life guard station - the latter surprised even me!

Smashing Stone of Destiny Discovery

Some guests at the castle today were caught up in a fracas in Perth this afternoon. The glass case containing the Stone of Destiny, in the Perth Museum, ws smashed just before 2PM.

Of course this act of vandalism, no doubt, is inspired by the theft of the stone from Westminster Abbey by Scottish students in 1950. I had thought the story of this theft, which had kept the newspapers of the time humming, would make a good film.

I checked out IMDB and sure enough a film called "Stone of Destiny" had been made in 2009. I was bracing myself for some awful product of the parochial Scottish film industry. However, the film, IMHO, is probably one of the best Scottish films around. Obviously, it is primarily an audience-pleasing comedic heist movie, and is somewhat formulaic but serious themes are touched upon and above all the movie has a great heart. The cream of Scotish acting talent provides great support. 

I was sufficiently inspired by this under-rated and little-known film, to buy the source work called "The Taking of the Stone of Destiny" written by one of the students called Ian Hamilton. I saw him interviewed in later life on the Scottish news, and he was a wonderful character. He became a highly respected Queen's Council, so being called a "vulgar vandal" by the press of the time was still causing him great amusement.

I told the castle guests that I would show them the book, so took it off my booksheves. This evening, I was sitting in the kitchen idling through my copy of the book (still unread), and spotted to my huge surprise that it was a signed copy. I screamed with delight. Ryan thought I had seen something overly ribald in the pages. :-) The copy was not sold as signed on eBay.

So if it had not been for the vandalism today, I would not have made this delightful discovery. Destiny?

Great Hall Grand Opening

With the restoration of the Great Hall at Balintore Castle essentially complete, it feels right to have an official Grand Opening event. This has been the longest, costliest and hardest part of the restoration so far, so a celebration is more than in order.

Here is the text of the public invite I have sent out:

Great Hall Grand Opening Invitation

you are cordially invited to the Grand Opening of the Great Hall at
Balintore Castle on Sunday, 3rd August, 2025. Food and beverages will
be provided at no charge throughout the day.

The completion of this phase of the restoration project is the most
significant step forward, since Angus Council pioneeringly bought
Balintore Castle for the nation in 2007.

Please help us celebrate the support of Angus Council for its
built heritage and show your support for the project by booking
(free) tickets for the event on EventBrite here:

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/balintore-great-hall-grand-opening-tickets-1447645038279

The "celebrity" cutting of the red ribbon will be at 11AM, but volunteers
will be on hand throughout the day to help explain the rich and intriguing
story of this architectural masterpiece.

Great Hall after restoration - still to be decorated

Great Hall after restoration (detail) note carefully sourced extra warm light bulbs

fireplace before reestoration

fireplace after restoration

north-west corner before restoration

north-west corner after restoration

The Little Dog who Vomited all over Kirriemuir

Dolly AI-reimagined at Bonfest !

Meet Dolly the dog! Ryan the chef at Balintore Castle has been dog-sitting Dolly, while her owner is on an extended trip to Australia. On her first stay, Dolly was a ball of fur and badly needed a haircut. However, it emerged that she has a lovely placid personality, loves to be around humans and can be taken for a walk without requiring a lead. In short, an ideal pet who is no trouble at all to look after.

On her second recent stay at the castle, Dolly arrived with the much needed haircut and for the first time I twigged she was probably a Cairn Terrier. I have a soft spot for terriers and love their sparky independence. Ryan and myself bonded much more with Dolly during this stay: we both admitted to being immorally lookist and the haircut was the key. :-)  Ryan allowed Dolly much greater freedom this time round as she was a known quantity and allowed her to do her own thing inside and outside the castle, instead of being kept in a room or on a lead. Dolly did not betray this trust, except on one occasion when she decided to eat half a dead rabbit she had found and on another occasion which is the subject of this blog ...

I was sorting out guest rubbish for recycling, pulling out the cans and bottles etc. Occasionally, gems appear such as an unopened packet of crisps. On this occasion, there was a whole unopened pack of butter. When you are banned from driving for a year and in consequence cannot go shopping and live with a vegan chef, a pack of butter is a rarity to be celebrated. I put the butter to one side.

I then discovered a smashed up Victorian pink glass flambeau lampshade which must have been broken by the guests and put into the bin. I ran into the guest accommodation and the table lamp which had been fitted with this shade was missing. I checked the cupboards, and the lamp was nowhere to be found. It had been stolen, to try to hide the crime. I was heartbroken given the trouble I had taken to source this Victorian lamp and shade - both items were irreplaceable. Guest are told they must report and pay for broken items so I felt betrayed as well. I burst into tears and rushed to my neighbour's house to let it all out. After the recent significant and devastating burglary at the castle, any new incident can set me off.

I was too upset to continue sorting out the rubbish, and left it to the next day. The next day was Saturday the 2nd June, and BonFest in Kirriemuir - the annual rock festival celebrating the legacy of Bon Scott (1946-1980) the lead singer of AC/DC who was brought up in the town. Ryan attended the event with Dolly and a human friend. Normally you would expect humans at such festivals to overindulge, but no it was Dolly who was living the rock-and-roll lifestyle.

She vomited in Ryan's bedroom that morning. What emerged was so thick that it hung over the back of Ryan's chair and did not drip to the floor. Dolly vomited (amongst other locations) on the floor of the "The Star Rock Shop", the oldest sweet shop in Scotland let alone Kirriemuir. On coming back to the castle, Dolly vomited on the floor of Gregor's carpentry workshop. Ryan was so fed up with dealing with vomit that day, that he simple sprinkled sawdust over the two deposits. In a carpentry workshop, sawdust is not in short supply...

Later that day I resumed dealing with the waste. There on the ground was an empty pack of butter save a tiny quantity remaining in one corner with little teeth marks in it. I think we all know who the culprit was. :-) My builders mentioned they had seen Dolly in the area of the refuse bonfire pit.

So if the guest had reported their breakage, I would not have been so upset, the pack of butter would not have been left, and Dolly would not have eaten it and then vomited it out onto the mean streets of Kirriemuir. I have never watched the "A Series of Unfortunate Events" franchise, but suspect Dolly's misadventures of excess at a heavy metal festival are right up there. 

The good news is that the following day, I did a more careful hunt in the guest accommodation and found that the antique lamp had been stuffed at the very back of a cupboard.

When Dolly arrived at the castle for her latest stay, she did not have a day bed where she could be with Ryan and myself in the kitchen, so we put her on some wool wadding that was used as packaging material. Later on I fabricated a doggie day bed from an Amazon Prime cardboard box, and unholstered with the said wadding. 

Dolly in her Amazon Prime day bed

You can see from the photo above, that Dolly is not always a heavy metal hooligan or leporine desacrator, and usually serves little dog cuteness. :-)

Gavin's Dance Floor

In the previous episode of this blog, my builders' insistance that the floor of the Great Hall should be left the natural blond oak colour of the newly installed reclaimed wood was pretty apparent, and their arguments were, it has to be said, perfectly valid.

However, where there is a choice my natural instinct is to go with the historic reality of the building, and at Balintore the original Great Hall floor was painted a dark brown that matched the other woodwork in the room. In fact, without Gavin's and Gregor's intervention, I would not have considered a blond floor in the first place.

What a dilemma!

I am someone who naturally consults with others where there is debate. It's not that I am weak-willed or indecisive, but the more angles one views an issue from, the better informed and better the resulting outcome. I showed my guests the stained samples of wood, and the clear consensus was the stain named "smoked oak". This tint was what I myself had chosen and had found was the closest match to the historic colour. Obviously, I kept my own view hidden for the longest time. :-) An extremely talented artist I know, just clearly stated that it was obvious the floor had to go dark. That was one of the clinchers.

I am also someone who does not believe in "decisions". One tries something out to see if it works. In that way you never make a mistake. This is a common technique in software engineering: you may not know how to solve a problem but you give yourself a hour or so, to work on a reduced version of the problem with a particular solution technique. By the end of that hour, you will generally know whether the approach is promising or whether you should try something completely different instead.

The actual moment I had to tell Gavin and Gregor that I was going dark was rather intimidating. It was the end of the day. We needed to move on the floor, and G&G asked what I was doing.  I mentioned I was going dark, but that we needed a test area and that I would order a single tin of "smoked oak".

Gavin joined together some spare flooring to produce a 2 foot by 2 foot dance floor and he applied the stained wax oil.

Gavin's dance floor

I was super delighed at how it looked, and eventally Gavin with some reluctance said that it did look good but just for this limited area. Because the grain of the oak shows through one's initial thought is that this is just the natural rich wood colour.

I can remember that moment in childhood when one realises that most wood is actually "white" in colour, and the "brown" material one has seen up to that point is actually due to a stain.

I naturally wanted to record the floor in a blond state before it went brunette:

goodbye blond floor 1

goodbye blond floor 2

Today Gregor stained a section of the actual floor within a doorframe, and this was final confirmation that it was full steam ahead. All three of us liked the effect.

test patch on actual floor

Great Hall Wood Stains

I sent away for eight samples of a floor wax containing a stain, to see which colours might sit well in the Great Hall.

As ever with colours, it is always best to have a swatch in your hands. Relying on seeing a colour on a computer monitor has gone totally wrong in the past. The paint might have been a lovely toffee-colour on my screen, but what came out of the can that arrived through the post was definitely green. In the end, we just used the green paint (with a catastophically distant hint of toffee) in the originally intended room.

Gregor sanded 5 short offcuts of oak flooring for me to use. The test-staining results are below:

On the left of the photo is a section of pine I used to get all the colours in one place. My first observation is that the stain looks tacky on pine, but some of the colours do look good on oak.

You may wonder why there are only 7 test patches - well my sachet of dark oak stain arrived dried out. The company are sending a replacement.

The stains work best where you can clearly see the original wood grain (e.g. American, Antique and Smoked Oak). To my eye the original oak fitttings in the Great Hall lie somewhere between Antique and Smoked Oak, and on balance I would be happy to stain our new oak architraves and skirting boards Smoked Oak.

Obviously, I will be consulting on this one. When someone can hold the samples in place, I will take a picture.

The bigger debate is the floor. Gregor wants us to leave the oak unstained, and I have a great deal of sympathy with this, as the stain will not wear off and one is using the "natural" wood. However, the oak is very, very white - you can see the unstained oak on the left.

I cleaned the surface of a surviving section of Great Hall flooring earlier today, and it is a very dark brown.

So that is the debate: leave the new material "au naturel" or match the historic colour?

The sanding is well underway in the Great Hall. The photo below was taken during the 40 Grit pass. We have now done a 100 Grit pass, and we have 150 and 180 Grit passes still to go.

Gregor and Gavin were reluctant to have their pictures taken during the sanding, but I managed to catch a cameo when they were not looking. :-)

Chateau Shenanigans: A Book Review

I was put on to this book by Alasdair Malcolm, who was the little boy who lived opposite my granny in my home town of Prestwick. Alasdair is himself now a published author, and local historian extraordinaire. Having left Prestwick a long time ago, those connections I still hold are of great value.

Anyhow, Alasdair's English cousin Tony Malcolm, has documented his own restoration of the 13th Century Chateau Gros Puy in North Dordoigne. So many expats are living in this region of France, that it is often called Dordoigneshire. 

The book documents exactly a year covering 2020-2021. Tony started writing the book in lock-down when he was stuck in the UK and had nothing else to do. So while Covid is not the theme of the book, it forms a background thread, which will be of value to future historians. It is noteworthy that we have turned a blind eye to Covid and have not addressed the pandemic in our culture, however, Tony's document coming in from the side is what we do have.

I should start by saying that the book is not a work of literature such as "A Year in Province" and as I worked my way through the book, I did ask myself about the motivation of the author.

One common motivation is when real-life castle restorations feature in TV documentaries: the restorers lose editorial control, so they are then motivated to put the record straight.

Tony says he was portrayed as a "hapless" restorer in Channel Four's reality show "A New Life in the Sun". Of course, at the end of the documentary everything is portayed as coming out all right in the end.

When Tony's wife Zak applied to appear on TV, she hadn't perhaps thought this lack of control through, and their feeling on watching the program was that they had just about got away with it i.e. it wasn't as bad as it could have been. It must feel like a betrayal of sorts, when you have befriended the film crew over a long shooting schedule. This is precisely why I have tried to avoid the media at Balintore.

The gold standard restoration vlog is "Chateau Diaries" on YouTube: this and another restoration vlogs came out of "Escape to the Chateau DIY", when British castle restorers in France realised they could take editorial control into heir own hands. So some good has come out of these predicable and formulaic portrayals by British TV production companies.

Crucially, Tony is an advertising copywriter so writing is a natural form of expression for him, and the book is written in an easy-going, easy-to-read and entertaining way. The writing is peppered with silly school boy jokes, wordplay, advert references (many from the 1980's golden age of advertising!) and French words. Tony is trying to compensate for his lack of French, by dropping French words into his English. I learned the wonderful word "déchèterie" this way.

However, eventually I realised there was no great literary ambition, no message, no theme, no advice - just a man telling his story in his own way. And the book is all the better for this very straightforward tale telling. His wife Zak is clearly the anchor for much of the restoration and a very capable individual, but the stresses of the restoration gave even her mental issues. This rings a bell with my own restoration.

Tony is prone to anxiety and depression and he is commendably open and honest about this and has written a book on mental well-being. In fact, depression is often almost a prerequisite for creative people and people that just go out there and actually achieve things. Tony and Zak's drive is, quite frankly, amazing and I am hoping to learn some lessons from them. 

It's not quite clear how things are going at the chateau nowadays, but the latest video from 2 years ago on the YouTube channel indicates that they are providing a wedding venue and chambres d'hôtes (B&B accommdation) for guests.

When Tony talks about the death of his fifteen-year-old labradoodle Cosmo (to whom the book is dedicated), the book suddenly moves in an epic and universal phase that alone justifies reading the book. Cosmo made the journey with the family from the UK to France, and is buried at Gros Puy.

While vlogs about castle restoration are common these days, actual books are rare, and these provide a greater insight into the process and motivations. So with the Prestwick connection, and subject of the book - there was no way I was not going to read it, and I am so pleased that I did.

Burglary and Arson

As you can imagine from the title of this blog entry, this subject is going to be very hard to write about. However, I am a great believer in getting things down on paper, so there is an accurate near contemporaneous account out there for posterity and for karmic if not institutional justice. The process may also help exorcise some of the trauma. Names have been changed ...


One of my builders, Orville, suffers from a bad back, and announced a few months ago that he could no longer continue to work without someone to labour for him, and that he had a lovely and talented friend Wilbur who would be able to do this for him. Naturally, I was a trifle suspicious that somehow the problem and the solution had appeared at the same time, but having had a very bad back myself in the past I was sympathetic. The word "suspicious" will occur often throughout this narrative.


When Wilbur first arrived, he was demanding the same hourly rate as Orville and I realised I was essentially paying double for the same work. Very quickly, I told Wilbur that I could not afford another builder on the payroll and that I had in fact just a few months before asked one of my fantastic longstanding builders if he could move to half-time (one week on, one week off) as the restoration of the Great Hall was straining my financial resources. However, I said that he could give me fixed-price quotes for labouring for particular jobs for Orville e.g. the labouring involved to finish off a particular room would cost such-and-such. In that way I could limit this additional unexpected expenditure, and know what I was getting for my money. I mentioned to Wilbur that there was no guarantee that there would be any fixed-price jobs, but if he was happy to work on that basis he could stay for a trial period.


With any new worker it takes a long period of time to establish trust i.e. if I pay someone on an hourly rate then I need to know that they will genuinely get stuck in, and I didn't know Wilbur from Adam. I confided in the chef Ryan, that as far as I knew Wilbur could be a drug dealer! Famous last words of course. Or perhaps it should be "Many a true word said in jest."?


Then on a Monday after the fixed price stuff had been discussed, I spotted Wilbur mingling amongst the other builders, possibly helping out, possibly not. That evening, as Wilbur passed my office I said that if he wanted to help my other builders on a voluntary basis, that was great but that I could not pay him for something that had not been agreed and that we were working on a fixed price basis.


On the Tuesday, WIlbur was mingling with the builders again and my fear was that he would want to be paid, so on Tuesday evening I put down what I told him on Monday evening in an email and assumed that there could be no ambiguity.


By lunchtime on Thursday, Wilbur was still mingling with the builders, so I had to confront him directly, which I hate. I asked him if he had received my email. He said he hadn't got it until Wednesday. I asked why he was still mingling with the builders and did he realise that I was not going to pay him for any of this. Wilbur insisted I would have to pay him for three and a half days' labour. I said there was no way I would pay him as there was no agreement, and I had even written it down for the avoidance of doubt.


I stood very close to Wilbur as I told him this and I did wag my finger because he had transgressed decent behaviour. Then Wilbur thrust his chest into mine physically in a very calculated act of aggression and said that I would pay him and that he had ways of obtaining payment. He was acting like a gangster and certainly someone who was in the habit of extracting money with menaces. At that very moment, I wanted to shout out "You get out!" which is very unlike me but that was the emotional truth of the situation. Wilbur had revealed a very dangerous side and nothing could be the same ever again,


The chef Ryan witnessed this scene and I went off to discuss the matter with Ryan who is normally very good with all matters relating to the human condition. Ryan suggested I pay him but only on the condition that no more payments of this form would occur ever again, and that it would all be fixed-price contracts. I followed Ryan's advice and made a payment, but looking back I should have not paid because I knew I was in the right and indeed I should indeed have ejected Wilbur then and there.


So things proceeded on a fixed-price basis, and labouring jobs were done. It was unclear whether I was getting value for money, but Orville did not complain so it appeared like a workable, if somewhat uncomfortable, situation.


The fixed price jobs appeared to dry up somewhat (the supply was up to Orville) and Wilbur spent a lot of time in his room. I came up with some jobs around the castle that needed doing and gave Wilbur some suggested fixed prices for these. Ryan and myself were trying to jolly Wilbur along a little, like decent human beings, making him meals and inviting him to cinema evenings.


Orville was still on about the fact he needed Wilbur to labour for him. I replied that this was already understood and that going forward all that Wilbur needed to do is to give me a fixed price for his part of the work. A few days later Orville came to me with an overall fixed price for a job, presumably including labour for both Wilbur and himself. I was not sure if Orville had understood the brief, but he indicated things would be different going forward. The fixed price was a little high, but as it involved two people I agreed to it. As Wilbur was essentially subcontracted to Orville in any case, then this system, though not the agreement that was originally made, had some merit to it going forward.


The next week Orville said he did not even know who Wilbur was, and that he did not want Wilbur labouring for him. I asked what had happened for this turnaround to happen in a week. Had they perhaps fallen out or was it a money thing? Orville was not forthcoming, but when I pressed Orville, he said it was something he could not talk about: always a worrying sign.


I naturally asked "Have you told Wilbur?" because it was clearly Orville's responsibility to tell Wilbur the bad news. Orville said he had told Wilbur that things would be different going forward. I pushed and Orville admitted he had not actually told Wilbur that he was not wanted as a labourer. I said "Well you need to tell Wilbur, and I need to see it in writing as proof.". Finally Wilbur got the news from Orville and he did not take it well.


However, Wilbur remained at the castle, and I asked Orville if he had told Wilbur that not subcontracting meant the end of Wilbur's tenure here? However, I realised that it would be muggins here that would have to give Wilbur his cards so-to-speak, not something I was relishing - a situation that Orville has got me into because Orville would not deal with the situation he had himself created.


I told Wilbur over a meal I cooked for him on a Monday. Wilbur went totally silent. It was really, really uncomfortable and I was trying to keep the conversation going single-handedly. Things felt horribly wrong.


On the Tuesday, Wilbur was mingling with the builders in the early morning. I was trying to be positive and told him that it was good that he was helping out before he leaves. The rest of the day Wilbur spent packing his car. I was trying to avoid him, due to the discomfort of the evening before. However, the packing went on and on and on - was he leaving that day or not? There was no formal announcement of his departure. The builders told me later that he was sitting in his car from 1:30 PM or so onwards.


Around 6PM just before it got dark, Wilbur appeared to be ready to go, so I did the decent thing, showing him the recent impressive progress in the Great Hall and thanked him for his contribution to the restoration, giving him my apologies that some unknown thing had broken down between him and Orville, and that the basis that he was at the castle in the first place (i.e. working for Orville) was no longer valid. I even suggested to Wilbur that he stay another night as it was getting dark, and it is always easier to drive during the day.


Then just before he walked out the door, he said he was not leaving without the £250 I said I would give him for chopping a tree into firewood. "But the job is not finished." I said, and indeed I had written him an email to this effect several weeks before for clarity when he had demanded the money previously. There was no response to my email. I had even asked Wilbur to let me know if the job was too much for him, but no response was forthcoming.


I took Ryan to see the tree when Wilbur had made his previous demand: it was in very large sections but was certainly not at the firewood stage and Ryan confirmed that the job had not been finished. I had written an email to Wilbur specifying carefully the job to be done and that payment would only be on job completion. As his previous demand for money had been so horrific, I wanted everything written down and unambiguous. And indeed, this is how I normally work: with terms and conditions in writing up front.


Anyhow, that evening Wilbur insisted the job had been finished which was complete nonsense, and I could feel the situation was becoming one in which I was in physical danger because neither of us was going to change our position. I needed to get help and get help immediately. Unfortunately, I did not have my phone with me and in any case there is no phone signal at the castle to phone a neighbour or 999. I simply walked out the front door of the castle to get out of the dangerous situation, without any clear idea of where I was going at first.


As I walked down the castle drive, I naturally spun the scenario where Wilbur would burgle the property, but there was nothing I could do. Ryan the chef is normally in the castle, but was away on holiday for a few days. It became apparent that Wilbur had engineered this confrontation to coincide with everyone else being away from the building so I was on my own and vulnerable. He had been waiting around for all the builders to leave. Indeed, it had been a concern at the back of my mind for some time that Wilbur might burgle the property,


I quickly decided to head for a neighbour's house, where I could phone the police if required or hopefully just wait Wilbur out so he would simply leave. However, I could not drive there as I have been banned from driving (on medical grounds) for a year. My medical condition means that I cannot walk for 100 yards without extreme pain, so I had to push through the pain barrier to walk the mile or so to my neighbour's house as fast as I could.


I quickly told them the story, asking if I could have a lift back to the castle to see whether Wilbur had left or not i.e. I needed someone else to be there for my safety. We discussed calling the police at that stage, but decided against it as Wilbur might have already left of his own volition. Anyhow, to kill time I was served a G&T, and after about an hour I was back at the castle in the passenger seat of my neighbour's car.


Wilbur was still waiting in his car at the front of the castle in the dark. He was not saying anything. I asked him "Are you leaving Wilbur?". Then Wilbur started the most horrific verbal attack. This included "You are a disgusting and vile little man. You are anything but a gentleman.". I said "I can pay you for the welding job you have done and I can pay £100 for your petrol money".


The welding job had been handed over just the day before so we hadn't had time to make a payment. We had briefly discussed it. I had mentioned £50, and Wilbur said that was the figure he was thinking of. Wilbur replied "You can shove your money up your ****hole". I asked Wilbur again if he was leaving and again offered him the money. The same bodily orifice remark was repeated and then he drove off.


I had never heard Wilbur speak in this (and I use his word) vile manner before. It was like his true nature, that one feared was there, but was now revealed with no ambiguity and no masking. I have witnessed this transformation once before from a person in my life, it was as chilling now as it was then.


I was so grateful to have my neighbour Louis sitting beside me during this painful exchange. Louis was in the driving seat, between myself in the passenger seat and Wilbur in the driver's seat of his own car. Louis volunteered "I'm sorry, I didn't say anything". I replied "You did absolutely just the right thing. You were just there for me and a totally independent witness by not saying anything". I asked Louis to confirm that what had just transpired was way beyond the bounds of acceptable, and that I had stayed civilised throughout simply trying to quell the situation." He confirmed both points. I dread to think what would have happened if Louis had not been there.


Louis went to drive back to his house. I entered the castle and ran straight to my office where I keep my mobile phone. It had gone. A quick check of the kitchen table (where I sometimes leave my phone) but it was not there either. I went back to my office and felt around. My laptop had gone as had my hard-drive. I ran to the location of my new laptop (which I was still setting up) and it had gone. Wilbur had carried out an extensive burglary of the castle. There was no-knowing what else had been stolen, but for now I had to get help.


Again I could not call the police (all my communication technology was stolen) and again I had to walk cross country for a second time to reach my neighbour's house. There I used their landline to phone the police, and stop my bank cards, etc. Who knows what could be done with my technology? Eventually, Louis drove me back to the castle so I could wait on the arrival of the police and give a statement. Waiting at Louis's house could have caused my neighbours to be waiting up for hours depending on the police's response time.


I gave a statement to the investigating officer back at the castle and he reassured me that Wilbur would be picked up. I got to bed about midnight utterly exhausted and traumatised. As you can imagine, my body was not going to sleep at all. Around 2AM, I decided to go for a wee, to give myself the best chance of sleeping. For some reason, I went to the bathroom overlooking the castle's back garden which I never normally use.


Through the window, and then through the yew trees quite some distance away there was just a slight flickering of a pomegranate coloured light. Is that the reflectors of a vehicle catching the light from a castle window? Is it perhaps a vehicle with its light on out there? However, there should be no vehicle in that part of the garden, and my mind went fairly quickly in a panic to "fire" and could this be an arson attack by Wilbur?


I went out into the back garden. What I call the gardener's cottage was fully ablaze. It felt like the peak of the inferno. The heat was immense. I couldn't see the wooden building, preserved up to that point by centuries of creosote, lasting much longer, so I filmed a quick video as evidence. Should I even call the fire brigade? But no, this was arson and the fire was so intense that the adjacent trees could easily go up as well. I wanted to ensure everything was extinguished and safe.

Again, I had to travel cross country; this time in the dark. I tried a number of other neighbours for speed but no-one answered. I rang the bell on one house so forcefully that the clapper came off in my hand, and I had to reattach it. No-one was responding. The only option was to go to Louis's house again. I battered on the door screaming "Help!, Help!, Help!" repeatedly. This was 3AM in the morning. It took an absolute age, but eventually Louis woke up and let me in. I explained about the arson attack, and phoned the emergency services for a second time that evening: this time asking for the police and the fire brigade,


Louis drove me over to the castle for the third time that evening. I realised that I had some fire extinguishers in the castle. "Shall we fight the fire?" I cried out to Louis. "I don't think so." said Louis "I don't know how to operate an extinguisher". "I think you just pull the pin out" I replied, so picked up a pair of extinguishers which had clear pins. They were incredibly heavy but we lugged one each to the gardener's cottage. I pulled out the pin and tried to put out the fire. It was incredibly hot and I could feel my hair singing. Louis stood well back observing.


By this time the building was just a large pile of burning wood at ground level. There was no discernable structure any more. I made good progress with the fire and managed to dampen it down quite a bit. A fire extinguisher does not last long, and I was soon on to the second extinguisher which calmed the flames down even more. However, the fire was not totally extinguished and I realised that it would pick up again in due course given the sheer volume of burning wood. I was hysterical with trauma and exhaustion at this stage, and when my feet got trapped in the extensive bog round the hut, I fell to the ground and got totally covered in mud. Louis lent a hand to pull me upright but my shoes had been left behind in the mud and I was unaware (at that stage) that my spare glasses had fallen into the mud. In fact the fire brigade later found 2 pairs of my glasses in the mud, which had detached from my personage while I was fighting the fire.


The fire brigade crew of about 10 fire officers and also about 4 police officers turned up about an hour after my second emergency phone call. After a long fight, the fire crew got the fire out: pulling sections of wood out from the burning core of the fire i.e. essentially dismantling the fire so sections could be tackled in isolation. It was hard and dangerous work. There was much dampening down of the area once the fire was visibly out. The heat was so intense, I was worried the stone garden wall, forming one side of the gardener's cottage, would collapse. It was already leaning before the fire and the roof timbers from the building had fallen on top of this wall during the structure's collapse.

I gave the police another statement. I waited around for the fire officers to complete their duties e.g. rolling up their hoses and did my best to make small talk. One of the fire officers was laughing and saying that at least the fire was keeping us warm on a cold night, and I'm afraid I told the officer that I didn't feel this way and that I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of the lost of a quality 1860's gardeners hut that has been built with the same meticulous care as the castle - with a beautifully crafted window and door. It had survived almost 200 years, only to be destroyed deliberately by a wicked individual in a few hours.


I had assumed Wilbur had set the fire going before Louis and I saw him leave the castle. However, the fire brigade said that they thought the fire had been going for no more than an hour. This would mean that Wilbur has been creeping about the premises around 1AM waiting to strike - what a horrible thought.


In the end I went to bed before the fire brigade left as I was totally spent. I perhaps lay in bed for an hour or two without sleeping and eventually, just got up the next morning with absolutely zero sleep over the proceeding night.


After the theft, I located a very old phone hidden at the back of a drawer for emergency purposes. Following the fire, I managed to connect to the Wi-Fi. 95% of Apps did not work as I could not get through the security checks. However, I could use Facebook messenger to send texts to friends about the incident - all other social media apps failed. I could use eBay to locate a new phone and new laptop, but could not buy them due to failed security checks.


I got my builder Gregor to buy the items I had tracked down. After five days or so I started to rebuild some technology infrastructure and although the hardware was delivered to Gregor's house, he came over especially on Friday (which he takes off) and then over the weekend to deliver the technology to the castle in person. Naturally, the lack of purchasing permissions meant I could not have things delivered to the castle.


I changed important passwords, and blocked my stolen phone. My laptop is my superpower and without any technology I was powerless to even address the impact of the burglary and mitigate security risks. I was reduced to cleaning and reading a paperback - it was a miserable time of intensely low morale.


Probably the worst aspect of the robbery is the loss of all my digital data including: family photos, my photo archive of the restoration; my accounts; software I have written and my film and music collections. It feels like my whole life has gone. Naturally, I had everything backed up between my laptops and my harddrive, but Wilbur took all my technology so everything was lost in one fell swoop. His theft was calculated to cause maximum pain, and because it was an inside job, Wilbur knew exactly where all my technology was.


Naturally, I got way behind in all "castle admin" and it took me a full three weeks to get back on top of just the day-to-day paperwork. I missed significant deadlines on more important paperwork. I am still writing begging letters to get extensions.


The police came round the weekend following the arson attack, and asked me to do a "1 from 12" photo identification. This is where you are presented with a photo of "their Wilbur" (i.e. the one in their existing criminal records) together with 11 photos of individuals of a similar age and appearance to "their Wilbur". At first I did not think I could see "my Wilbur" but it was just me panicking about things going wrong, and when I scanned methodically through the photos - the one showing Wilbur was pretty obvious. Oddly, he looked much more of a criminal in this photo - it's something about not trying to project a dishonest front (as he had at the castle) when you are in police custody.


I was told straight away, a little to my surprise, that I had made the correct identification and that the Lanarkshire police could now pick him up. Wilbur comes from Lanarkshire. The police officer wanted a second identification, so I suggested he take the "1 in 12" print-out to Ryan, but the officer told me it has to be a different print-out.


I asked the police officer how long it would take the Lanarkshire police to pick Wilbur up. I had supplied the officer with a name, an address, an email address, a phone number and photos so one would assume it would not be hard. He replied "It could be 1 to 2 days or 1 to 2 weeks". It's now 3 weeks later but I have heard nothing about a pick-up, so it's rather worrying.


After the burglary, a lot of things made sense. In the days prior to his departure, Wilbur forced his way into my office for the first time (while I was there) and looked around. The term is "casing the joint". Shortly afterwards he tried to follow me into my bedroom. It was very creepy, and I told him not to follow me.


A couple of weeks before the burglary, Ryan noticed Wilbur coming into the "yoga room" with a laptop (mine!!!) and saw him put it down on a chair. Some days later, Ryan asked Wilbur if it was his laptop and Wilbur replied "No". Ryan was suspicious and puzzled but did not mention the incident to me.


Wilbur told Ryan that he had sent in a gang to smash up the windows of someone who owed him £900 in drug money. Apparently this had done the trick and payment was made. Ryan, again, did not disclose this alarming story until after the arson.


Craig the roofer spotted Wilbur handling the 6 vintage swords I was going to install on the wall of the Great Hall. And guess what, these swords were taken in the burglary. The tragedy is that these were a gift to the castle from a former refuse collector who set beautiful things aside that he found in the course of his job. The kindness of the donation contrasts sharply with the malevolence of their removal. One visitor to the castle recalled seeing crossed swords on the walls of the Great Hall when he was a small boy, and naturally I wanted to recreate this.


On the day of his departure, the builders noticed Wilbur was moving all around the castle, so I suspect he was scouting and loading his car with swag. The comment that Wilbur made about stuffing my money somewhere was assuredly made, in the full knowledge that he had robbed me blind and that the goods were in his car at that very moment. What is unclear is how much more he helped himself to while the castle was unattended as I rushed to my neighbour's house for help.


After the event, of course, Orville indicated that Wilbur had boasted "I will be higher up the ladder than you at the castle: I have David's confidence and he is going to make me castle manager.", and Orville had sort of accepted that this was perhaps the truth. Wilbur is clearly a "user" and Orville was used. Orville also indicated that they had had a major falling out about 6 months previously that almost led to violence, so despite what Orville had said to me about Wilbur's exemplary character, he was aware to some extent that Wilbur was a wrong un'. This was not mentioned.


Putting together the "after the fact" information would have clearly indicated Wilbur should never have come to Balintore. Orville feels terrible for bringing Wilbur here, However, even if I had got rid of Wilbur sooner than later, the burglary was pretty inevitable, unless his departure was police supervised which they would never have agreed to. The evidence shows the burglary was premeditated by at least a couple of weeks.


I suspect the arson was more spontaneous when I refused to pay Wilbur for the job he had not completed. Inside the conflagrated wooden building were some of the cut-up branches from the tree, so I suspect Wilbur wanted to ensure that I was not going to get any use of this wood. Catastrophically, he also destroyed a historic Victorian building and all of Ryan's gardening tools, which were stored here. I was unhappy with Wilbur putting the wood in here: surely it should have been taken to the castle for use? However, I was too polite to say anything.


I once remarked to Wilbur that "Crime and Punishment" would be my reading matter of first choice in jail, as relations with Angus Council were so bad that my incarceration seemed the inevitable next step. Wilbur responded he had friends inside who would "look after me", as he had done time for dealing weed, The remark was not a reassuring one, as had been the intent, as it confirmed Wilbur was the drug dealer I had worried he might be.


The sheer maliciousness was clear. Wilbur had locked rooms (the Lintrathen suite, the pink bedroom, and the top kitchen) and left with the keys. The next day all my builders were occupied sawing through metal latches with thin saw blades to try to get the doors open. This was time consuming for them and expensive for me. The doors were damaged in the process and will have to be repaired and new locks had to be bought and installed.


In fact, as Wilbur was leaving he handed me the key to the castle (yes, he had taken it!) as a demonstration of "power", I think, and he may even have told me where to shove it.


Wilbur had also stolen the fireback of the range fireplace in the top kitchen. He knew I loved this item, as it was the only surviving original one from 1860 left in the castle. Wilbur has soldered this together and done a good job, so Wilbur's theft was engineered to hurt i.e. "you are not getting this". The fireback will not fit any other fire (it is a very odd T-shape) so there is no resale value and to remove such an item from an A-Grade listed building is a criminal offence.


My builders felt very betrayed as they had been trying to help Wilbur (clearly someone with troubles) and yet this is what he does? Ryan felt particularly betrayed as he, more than anyone, had put time in to help Wilbur follow an exercise program and to cook for him, etc and yet Wilbur burgles Ryan's possessions (including a telescope) as well as destroying his possessions (including his gardening tools).


I had been trying to support Wilbur in his writing ambitions, and some of his verses were genuinely good and heartfelt expressions in the Scottish vernacular. I made sure I gave praise where due. I have enough integrity that I would never give undue praise, and it has got me into trouble a couple of times in the past with other people! :-)


One reflection is that in a single evening Wilbur caused at least, say, 15k of damage, and yet all the kind people who have donated to my GoFundMe page to restore the Great Hall over the last 5 years have collectively raised 9k. And of course, how much did this police and fire brigade operation cost - another 15k?


I am not sure of the moral of this story. I would never have invited Wilbur to the castle if it had been up to me but I wanted to support Orville who has done some amazing work at the castle despite his bad back. Of course, I have to thank those that helped me: my neighbours, my builders, the police and the fire brigade.


Wilbur would sing his own praises (another warning sign) and those of others he knew who might "help" at the castle. I always pleaded with Wilbur not to try to "sell" me anything through talk, but that I would observe for myself what someone was capable of. Unfortunately, Wilbur was entirely capable of realising my worst fears about him and them some.

 
Here is a list of known stolen items:


Dell i9 laptop (charger left behind)
Dell i7 laptop
Advent Monza laptop
4TB external hard drive
Google 6 Phone
Original Victorian fireback
3 keys
6 vintage swords:

2 claymores

2 smaller swords

2 brass handled scimitars

reflecting telescope (Ryan's)
tap and die set (Ryan's)
microwave (one seems to be missing!)


Items known destroyed:

Victorian gardener's building
Victorian chair (inside gardener's building)
3 door locks
firewood
gardening tools (Ryan's)