It was lucky she had never had any intention of having babies; now she would certainly never marry either. She would live out her days [here], a bookish spinster attended by cats and parrots, until that time when she might become ethereal, pure spirit untainted by the woes of flesh, a phantom drifting with the winds. What fun she would have as a ghost. She could hardly wait.
—Elspeth Barker, O Caledonia














