claymore wrote:Whit some folk wull do tae avoid their round.....
Learnt it fae you, the maistir o’ the beer body swerve..
I won’t have that said about him. Once ensconced in the harbour of Troon due to fowl weather, the auld hen offered his crew a full Scottish breakfast in the morning, and the next and the next and the next and .... The torment at the wallet damage was borne manfully as the wind howled and shrieked through the rigging.
Eventually, the auld goat bought me a ticket, I think, and stuck me on a train going south. Was going to be cheaper he said ...