I changed from my working dress of white academic gown and plain white dress and flat shoes into my DPM kilt with a dark brown tunic, dark green hose and soft dark brown boots.

I made a large mug of sage tea, pulled on my heavy khaki jersey and black beret then walked up into the belvedere. The view is to the south and at night it is possible to see the lights of the ships at sea.

I considered the situation, and sighed, I was out of my depth with all the strange goings on.

'I'm not even a chef,' I protested to the clear cold air with the tang of the sea in it. Then I remembered what Mister Brown had said whan I first saw him - 'A friend. A chef.'

I suddenly saw The McGeek's peculiar mode of dress in a new light. Perhaps it was really an attempt to wear the kilt but with his usual geekness - and perhaps some bad advice, he had simply got it wrong. Bad advice from - could it possibly be Mister Brown - the man who, by his own admission was already in the area?

Would anyone deliberatly mislead someone wanting to wear a kilt?

I shivered at the dreadful thought.