On arriving at the next B&B   After four days of clean ’n’ tidy from our once-commissioned host   who runs both cases up tartan-clad stairs to our quarters,   after four nights of breathing in to pass each other and the bed   and four days of drenching rain we wave goodbye to Pitlochry   and say hallo to a fourth gen laird lording it over the Cromarty Firth.   Ancestor eyes watch us walk to a guest wing with sink-into sofa  and clamber-up bed.   In an antique-laden lounge mind your Ps & Qs chairs sit   on…