When I was a child, both my grandfathers filled me with wondrous stories of my Scottish ancestors.Β While at bedtime mum was spinning faerytales and ππͺπππΊ ππ°π’π΅π΄ ππ³πΆπ§π§, my grandfathers used my mind as a repository for history that should not be lost.Β Little did I comprehend they were cultivating my growing imagination, feeding my fascination with the past, and hoping to create the next historian in the family.Β