Image: MorgueFile April b5afa0fad12c0fc6b1d0bf8cc983d6e4
Our tour guide Roger had arranged a walking tour of the town of Morgue. Parts of the township dated back into medieval times and on occasion my aged companion Joyce made comment of the fact.
The cobblestone paths and roadways irritated her, as they were not conducive to her walking. Joyce was a flat road sort of girl, negotiating the undulations of the cobblestone pathways was not her idea of a walking tour.
But she pushed on. In one of the old streets, we passed the Morgue House of Leather and waited as an old man left smelling of leather and tanning agents.
Roger, always a font of information, informed us that in medieval times the best way to treat an animal’s hide was to soak it in urine and people known as fullers would walk up and down on it for several hours.
Joyce remarked she once dated a fellow called Fuller, and there had been a smell about him.
I was keen to see their wares, and so I went in and came out thirty minutes later my wallet somewhat lighter, but with a very attractive leather coat, Joyce thought made me look years younger.