I looked on X marks the Scot.

Mister Brown gave me the new password required to access the Internet, which he says should not be available to others at the Institute, just in case.

The forum is filling up with recipes, Mister Dove's narration has now got the caterers coming to the rescue.

The kilt forum is all of cooking, and the ICE is full of young men in strange kilts. Plus all the gels went off to the disco clad in strips of strips of tartan - different tartans. (Small strips too. The gels these days.)

It is all getting really strange.

What I could do with is some hint of what is going on here.

What I could really do with now is seeing the X marks diridgibibble thingy flying along the South Coast of England, bringing Hamish home after his adventure.

Then I could go up into the belvedere and use a heliograph to signal to them in Morse code, and we could cook up some strengthening broths for the invalid whilst the sensibly kilt clad crew and its commanding officer get to work on the mystery, and we could do with a carpenter to fix that hole in the door to the wine celler.

I was relying on Mister Brown to sort this out, but I have just seen him rushing off to the Rotunda clad in what looks like a kilt suit made out of old grey army blankets with a sporran made from one of the long blonde wigs from the hair dressing salon. The McGeek was with him, in what looked like a brown leather version of the long kilt he was wearing earlier, and his corduroy jacket with the patches on the elbows.

Oh deary deary me.