Exhilarated. That’s the best word I can find to describe the boys when I collected them from Largs last Friday. There I’d been, worrying all week that they might be hating it. I should have known better.
We waved the others off in the minibus and then retired to Nardini’s – or the sad imitation of Nardini’s, all that remains of an institution that should surely have had campaigns to save it – for something to eat. With ice cream, of course, which can still be had. They could barely stop talking long enough to look at the menu, although a week of fresh air ensured that Continue reading
Text messages
Mum, paranoid, needs text from boys, teenagers (gmt & vyt), afloat somewhere in the Clyde. Maybe they’re too seasick to text. Or too cold, wet and miserable. More likely they’re having a great time and we’ll hear all about it at the weekend. After they’ve had 24 hours sleep, that is. I do wonder, though, if the boat crew have enlisted the services of an interpreter for those East Lothian accents yet.
Wouldn’t it be nice if once, just once, life was boring and everything went according to schedule? I could happily do boring for a while.
