James headed up to Scotland overnight on Thursday. Friday was spent procuring a lot of meat prior to the arrival of five more stags in the evening for a barbecue. I was kindly kept updated via Facebook and the best man about the loss of James' eyebrows to the flames but thankfully it seems they exaggerated slightly - although I'll grant the boys that the flames did look impressive. I think copious amounts of beer were consumed and a late night was had by all.
I understand that the Saturday saw the boys up early and off to karting. James kindly informed me that he was the stig. He later revealed that he'd come third to his best man and one of his former flat mates after a tense battle with another.
Then the boys headed off to clay pigeon shooting and I understand that James found he had a natural flair for it, coming second only to his dad, who grew up on a farm. In James' own words a monster had been created and he can't wait for his next opportunity to shoot things out the sky (not aeroplanes I promise!).
Dinner was at the whisky rooms in leith. I saw a picture of James with about 15 whisky tasting glasses in front of him. He looked very happy, me probably less so. I understand the food was out of this world and James has promised to take me back there to experience it for myself.
I think the next port of call was Baby Dolls. I think least said soonest mended is probably my best approach to that!
Dad and James arrived back at home late afternoon on Sunday, while I was still happily ensconced at the races. Clearly not too worse for wear they repaired to the pub for a couple before we got back.
9 weeks to go...
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