Ian and I took a trip to Fife on Sunday. While the Fib Sunday fans were beavering away, Ian and I were on the beach in Elie having fun with the dogs before going on to Anstruther for the best fish and chips in Scotland.
My dear daughters love the beach. As you can see by the photograph of Meg, dear reader, they were knackered on their return home.
Once we're free of Winter and Spring has sprung (though it feels quite Spring-like today, dear reader), we're going to take Ian's Father and Aunt to Anstruther for a fish supper and a trip to the Isle Of May. Lots to look forward to.
Fuck the poll tax.
5 comments:
I look just like Meg after a day at the beach especially if F&C are involved.
(phew...you came out of blogger lockdown)
Sometimes on hot, stormy nights, I toss and turn in my sleep and dream of beautiful fish and chips, buttery bread and overly strong tea which is most certainly not decaffeinated. In my dream I am eating it all slowly at first, savouring every bite, but gradually I eat faster and faster, more furious than I've ever eaten before. Finally, I awake, sitting bolt upright in bed and screaming 'Take me to Anstruther!'. And then I go to the fridge and eat a bit of lettuce.* I love going to Anstruther for fish and chips.**
* = untrue.
** = true.
F&C?
Lost Boy, you are wild! Next time you're north or the border, we'll go to Anstruther for a poke.
F&C= fish and chips.
That looks like fun, but coooold.
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