Listening to: Do You Want To (Franz Ferdinand)
Weather: the rain's here, early spuds are showing through
My stepson Pat spent a month here before going back to the Midlands to see his friends and plot a summer 'travelling' around Europe (a beerathon to Prague, Munich and Belgium).
He's been saving cash doing odd jobs on the island and the plan is that he continues to do that until mid-July as well as helping me make a start of the renovation of the tumbledown shack we like to call home.
Having linked up with his stepbrother (my lad) in Shrewsbury yesterday evening, Pat hauled his extreme hangover to the station and, changing at Crewe of course, reached Glasgow at lunchtime.
On the five minute walk between stations, he paused to get his last £40 out of the cashpoint. While reorganising his pockets he put the money in his mouth, whereupon one of the friendly local characters pounced, grabbing the cash and shoving him over.
Nobody batted an eyelid and Pat soon gave up the chase, getting the train to Inverness with moments to spare. He arrived at the hostel we normally use in Inverness only to find they've introduced a photo-ID policy and they wouldn't let him in.
Sal phoned me in a right tizz, so I rang the hostel, but no amount of sweet-talking would get them to change their minds. "He's going to have to sleep rough!" wailed Sal, keeping things in perspective.
Pat, although shaken, did the sensible thing, found a B&B and by now should be tucked up with the prospect of the mother of all breakfasts in the morning.
It's that bloody egg.