St Andrews

Ok, now I know those of you who check out FB will have already seen a spate of photos from our magical trip to the other side of the Forth. But I've also been informewd that 31st May was, for some, 'Quit FB Day'. Now I'm not entirely sure what, how, when or why. Nor do I care for that matter, but just in case you do/did, here's a few more photos (they're not repetes for all avid FB users, so you can go ahead and take a peek too). They're mostly of my two favourite boys, and a couple of stinky adults.

Landscape and sunshine also feature heavily, as this was no ordinary weekend in Scotland, there was ample sunshine, and warmth, and its glory shall go down in the ages as that hallowed weekend in mid-May when Scotland was warmer than Athens. I kid you not. Songs shall be sung and poems penned hailing this day in all its splendid beauty for the Ages.

All set for a sophisticated, late supper with Dave and Heather. Note well the summer cocktail. Yes I was on antibiotics, and maybe I had some serious acid reflux post consumption, but it was worth it.

As I said, I had a bit of a funny tummy, but let it be said that Stu's portions are always outrageous and I wonder time and time again why he isn't a massive porker. If only we could harness his fat-busting energy for good.

The boyz. I miss them already.

Fred, rather awkward that he chose to piss on some dead dignatery's grave, but when you gotta go ... Roc was so jealous he didn't need to pee, the boy loves defacing shit.

Beautiful, sunny (gasp) St Andrews.

Dave and Freddles.

Ma and The Roc, just throwing stuff. H - that softball arm really comes into its own. And Roc's developing equally brawny tendancies.

C'mon, let's throw more shit into the sea mum!

And then stuff our faces with mum's sandwich. No wonder H is so skinny, she very rarely enjoys a meal to herself. Note to me: Get kid to hoover up food before I get a chance.

Stu would never EVER share his food with some lame kid.

The wonderful St Andrews Abbey ruins.

The incredibly amazing Roc.

Lovely pottery in Crail, sleepy fishing village, absolutely stunning place.

Anstruther, Stu doing the typically British thing of walking down the beach in full garb. If it's a REALLY nice day, they sometimes contemplate paddling.

Sneaking into people's backyards for a little covert camera work.

Bird mid-takeoff.