A sabre toothed mole can bite the heel from a Wellington Boot! That's what the postcards told my grandchildren, written under the verandah of the newsagents. The picture was of a roaring stag which will now forever be a known as a pretty dangerous mole. It's what granddads are for.
A morning swanning about in a sunny Braemar is quite lovely. It's a shame the Fife is shut, but this is more than made up by the cafe attached to the excellent outdoor shop serving lip-smacking lunches and drinks, sat in comfortable furniture outside. As we slouch about, generally enjoying doing nothing, along pops Laura, and then Maggie & Vicky, fresh into Braemar. I persuade them to nip over to the B&B that Phil & I have just left next to the old church as it was absolutely brilliant. All three manage to get places there.
Eventually, we drag ourselves away and stroll the six miles up the golf course road to Lochcallater Lodge. Bill and Michael are in control and there is a freshly built trendy bar in the gentleman's sitting room! We accept with alacrity the kind offer of beds upstairs instead of camping outside.
Here are a few of the characters, snapped in the living room
As ever, Bill & Michael's hospitality is tremendous and a great night is had until the small hours.
|NICK (CYCLIST & BALLOON JUGGLER) OUR YOUNGEST CHALLENGER|
|DENIS [C/O PHIL]|
|BIG MICHAEL [C/O PHIL]|
|WILL & SAM [C/O PHIL]|
|OUR WONDERFUL JEAN [C/O PHIL]|
|WAGGY, IN FULL FLOW [C/O PHIL]|
|MAD'N'BAD IN USUAL LATE-NIGHT STATE [C/O PHIL]|