Hello boys and girls, here's today's missive. I'm sitting in a bit of high(ish) moor near to West Kilbride in Ayrshire, the capital of which is Ayr and I'm mostly assuming that they speak ayrish. Sorry, that was rubbish, the product of too many miles and an empty stomach. Getting towards the 2000 mile mark, not that I'm counting. Have just heard a cuckoo, a long old flight from North Africa with every hunter in the Med trying to put you in a pie. Tossers. Gerald is struggling personfully with the tent while I sip brandy and water, type furiously and bark occasional instructions. Marvellous, having staff, what!
So we've been through Stranraer, Ballantrae, Ayr, Prestwick, Troon and Irvine, if that blows up your skirt. I nearly got taken out twice in Ayr by dull-witted car drivers in the space of as many minutes. Still, it livens the journey up no end. Before I forget, a big hello and thanks to Melvin (ex Royal Scots Greys) and Lynne, wardens of the beautiful Sandyhills Bay campsite near Kircudbright. Cheers, dears! Also to the lovely couple who sold us discounted gas in the same town and made a donation. Thanks a lot. Tomorrow, Glasgow, Stalingrad of the North. Only kidding, put that razor down at once...
Had a storming lunch, having picked a load of mussels when we should have been toiling honestly along, but hey ho, the sun was shining etc. More guff tomorrer.
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Friday 22 April 2011
Day Twelve - Ever Wonder Why Doctors Refer to Motorcyclists as 'Organ Donors'?
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