Down the Sound

Out of Tobez at 10 o’clock sharp, which translates as 10:30 in the crew’s books. Goodbye Tobermory, a home from home. Down the Sound of Mull, wind on the nose of course, and onto the North Pier Pontoons (in a downpour) rather than Kerrera as the lads are gagging for the bright lights of a big city after Tobers. And whose boat is already tied up, but DrD and his wayward pal.
Soon we are bombarded with messages. The cheapskates are in ‘spoons, and they beseech us to join them. We’re having none of it, being settled in the Oban Inn. We move on for food, directly across the road. Before long, they arrive outside and saunter in to join us at our table. DrD heads off to put his head down. We retrace our steps and induct MB into the Rascallion crew. Let the grand bantz begin!