The move from the East Midlands to Dundee, Scotland, came as a shock to Peter French.
     Smith and Stone, the gas conversion company who employed him as technical adviser, sent him to their Dundee division to solve conversion problems with fish and chip shop ranges.
     Peter searched for, and eventually found lodging at Mulberry View, a boarding house near the Tay Bridge.
     Gas conversion in 1970 was in full flow and Peter spent little time at the boarding house. often not getting in until nine o'clock each night.
     Miss Selena Berry, 75, proprietor of the Mulberry, kept spotlessly clean premises with full breakfast provided, and later meals if required.
     Peter, the only resident for the first few days he was there, had supper.
     Miss Berry suggested supper of 'a cup of hot chocolate and a piece of my home-baked apple pie.'
     Although Peter thought this an odd supper but there was no other choice and Miss Berry provided it only between the hours of ten o'clock and eleven o'clock at night.
     "One hour for supper was all my mother and father allowed us in the Highlands," said Miss Berry. "And I carry on their tradition."
     On the third evening, Miss Berry asked Peter his first name.
     "Peter."
     "Ah, a lovely name is 'Peter'," said Miss Berry, severely rolling the 'r'. "Do you like animals, Peter?" Peter said he did.
     Miss Berry smiled. "Then I shall introduce you to my dog," she said. She whistled expertly and a black Scottie dog came bounding into the lounge from somewhere in the house. "Peter, I introduce you to Alistair. You must not call him 'Al' or 'Ali'. He answers only to my whistle, or to being called Alistair. He is a true Scottish breed, Peter, because when Alistair barks, he does so with a Scottish accent."
     That evening, Peter drank the most gorgeous cup of hot chocolate - and the apple pie was sensational.
     On the Saturday morning, as Peter was leaving Mulberry for work. a middle-aged couple came to stay 'for several days.'
     Upon returning to Mulberry late that afternoon, Peter sat for an evening meal with Mr and Mrs Didsbury, the new residents. He found them quiet, polite, and looking forward to days of sailing on the Moray Firth.
     Peter, tired from long working hours, settled in front of the television in his room.
     Exactly at ten o'clock, Miss Berry's voice sounded at the bottom of the stairs.
     "It's time for hot chocolate and apple pie, Peter," she called.
     Peter trotted down the stairs and found Mr and Mrs Didsbury sitting on the largest sofa.
     "I trust you will all have hot chocolate and a piece of apple pie?" queried Miss Berry.
     They answered, 'yes please'.
     Miss Berry brought from the kitchen a large tray - three cups of chocolate and three slices of apple pie, each pie on an ample plate. Peter, nearest to Miss Berry, received his supper first. The tray passed along to Mrs Didsbury. She placed her supper on the small table near them and handed the tray to her husband. He was trying to read a newspaper. There was no room for the tray on the table and hesitating about what to do, shoved the newspaper under an arm, grasped a cup of chocolate, and sat helpless with the tray and apple pie.
     He solved the problem and placed the pie on the floor between his feet and looked for somewhere to place the tray.
     Suddenly, there came a snarling, scoffing sound and Alistair was sitting there with the slab of eaten pie outlined in his neck.
     Mr Didsbury was horrified.
     Miss Berry beamed at us, and said in her wonderful Scottish accent:
 
     "Aye, Alistair loves pie."