A sudden creak announces the turning of the door handle. The door blows open, banging against the wall in a blast of icy wind as snowflakes swirl madly into the room, frantically scuttling onto various bits of furniture or meeting their untimely demise in the fireplace. A cloaked figure stumbles in and shuts the winter back outside again; the fire, which had responded to this blustery offense with frenzied indignance, settles back down onto its peat bricks.
The figure lets fall the bag she had been carrying and pushes her hood back. She is unwashed and smudged with travel; bits of the Highlands are still stuck in her disorderly hair. She gladly accepts a cup of whisky from the innkeeper, and makes her way over to settle down next to you on a bench by the fire.
"Well?" you ask. "Gonna share that whisky?"
She hands you the cup. The scent of the peat smoke blends nicely with the aftertaste of the single malt Scotch. She picks a leaf out of her hair and regards it for a moment. "Sorry about the appearance. I tripped and fell into some bushes on my way off the tour bus. By the way, why is it snowing in July?"
You shrug. "Don't ask me, it's your blog."
She nods sagely. "So maybe I should start putting together a few stories to post from our Scotland & Ireland adventures. The trip was absolutely mind-blowing. Wanna hear about it?"
You sip the whisky. "Okay. But get started already, I can't keep checking back here to see nothing new for over a month. It gets annoying!"
She nods sagely again. Obviously she has no idea where this entry is going. "Then sit tight," she instructs you, reaching for your cup. "There's a lot to tell!"
