Virgin Rock
“Stay off the cliff, now,” Mrs. Campbell warned me as I left her inn. “Try to climb that cliff and you’ll wind up on Virgin Rock.” Well, I hadn’t come to Scotland for the rock climbing. That was a peculiarly British fad. I took myself to the pub. A young man served my beer. “Not busy,” I noted. I was his only customer. “They’ll come in at dinner time. ‘Lunchtime’ for a Yank. My parents couldn’t afford to pay someone to tend bar for the solitary visitor, but our universities are off now,...