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)

Flooring Half-Way in Great Hall

In an attempt to record progress, I took this snap of the Great Hall earlier in the evening. You can see that we are around the half-way mark in laying the oak strip flooring. 

Gavin and Gregor, my builders, are keeping busy: there is a lot of laying when you have narrow floorboards and a large room. 

One thought that occurred to me is that in 2013 when I bought this 1924 reclaim oak flooring, it was not antique. Now it is antique.

Gregor recently found some birch planks amongst the oak - rather naughty of the salvage company to supply this. However, I think we have enough oak to floor two principal rooms with current supplies.

Today I was felled by a tiny terrier!

Ryan, the castle chef, and I had taken Gavin's dogs Jazz and Oscar out for a walk in the countryside. There was a terrible tangle of leads and in the resulting confusion Jazz ploughed into the back of my lower legs. Given I was standing somewhat unsteadily on a steep slope at the time, the inevitable happened. I fell backwards over Jazz, almost crushing him in the process. I had the presence of mind to bend my legs to try and form a bridge over Jazz, and he was more shocked than anything. Ryan merely laughed prolongedly and cruelly, and I accused him of responding more fulsomely to basal physical comedy than to my wit. :-)