Six men shaken, but not stirred, nothing but a dream
The admiral standing erect near the double entrance doors of the Connaught Hotel in Carlos Place is dressed as a doorman. No-one dares think of him as a doorman, for his majestic presence. Even his unbeatable calm is disturbed when a taxi stops outside the old-fashioned hotel and out step two gentlemen in their eighties. The admiral stares. One old man has bushy beard, moustache and white whiskers. The other, paying the taxi, has no facial hair but a massive double chin. He makes an affable “Good morning!” to the admiral and passes into the hotel followed by the six-footer who says, “Fine day my dear mun,” to him. It is an Edinburgh accent. (more…)