Supping in Leith

Out to visit the aunt - leaving the haar behind to visit the sun-kissed uplands. And blimey, it was dry - I called in to visit maw and paw on the way back and watered their heathers which were fair parched. And I stood and chatted with an old chap - Foggo, whose wife had died last year; tending away at her grave, he was.
Home to head out to sup with Insto and Imindoors and this chap Andy with his cool haircut.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, PT was crawling over the boat for sale. And sending hundreds of photographs. It could be the one for me if I can think of a new name. Pen-y-lan? What’s that about?