Robert MacLeod sinks back into the carriage chair, closes his eyes and exhales one long deep breath.
“The best part of my job is predicting problems and making contingency plans to mitigate them.”, I said.
The carriage stops, and David Mackintosh, our coachmen, jumps down and opens the door. We descend from the carriage on Park Road and Great Western Road’s junction, which marks the tramline’s western edge. This junction resides on the River Kelvin’s east side, and we look up at the magnificent Landsdowne United Presbyterian Church.
“The Minister, John Eadie, and a part of the congregation moved here from Cambridge Street, escaping the heart of the city for the leafy suburbs of the West End in 1863 and caused quite a stir.”
For one moment, Robert forgets his problems, “This church has one of the slimmest spires in the world and is over two hundred foot high.”
We lower our gaze from the impressive spire and find Mary standing in front of us.
Mary moves forward extending her hand, “Pleased to meet you, Robert. I know all about your predicament and challenges.”
Robert shoots a glare of disbelief in my direction.
“I will leave you in Mary’s capable hands.”, I said, flipping the guinea to Robert, “I will look after the tales; if you look after the heads.”