Listening to: Saor (Afro Celt Sound System)
We arrived with ten minutes to spare. No panics, enough time to have a natter while we watched the ferry come in.
Except that the natter started like this:
"Did you give me the car keys?" (We keep our best car over in Kirkwall where Sal uses it for work while I chug around in a variety of MoT failures).
"Err. . . no. I thought you had them."
"You had the car on Friday to go and see that boar. Where did you leave the keys."
"Bugger. In my coat. Sorry."
I shoved Sal out of the door and, with 14 minutes before the ferry was due to leave, headed for home, caning the poor little Fiesta along the island's main road, battering the suspension up our lane and hurtling inside* (OK, I walked briskly - hurtling isn't really an option with my knees) where I retrieved keys.
Skidding back out onto the road, I narrowly missed wiping out Keith from the haulage firm and pulled up on the jetty as the ferry was pulling in.
Mrs P"F" was suitably impressed, but I can't begin to imagine what this stress is doing to my blood pressure.
* I got out of the car first - it wasn't some sort of a ram raid.