The haunted hut.
I had decided to have a week of solitude at our hut in the Scottish countryside. I settled down on a bunk bed for my first night alone but could not help thinking of another Wishart who had been captured long ago by the naughty Catholics at the old castle just a few hundred yards above the hut. That Wishart was dragged to St Andrews and burned at the stake. I fell asleep eventually but woke suddenly when the entire hut started to shake and throb violently. I was almost out of the door absolutely naked into the snow before I realised the vibration was caused by a large wooden windmill (see pic) attached to the hut. The wind had freshened during the night and the vanes that powered our basic electric supply started to spin. Sod that! Decided to hike back home again next morning.