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
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.
