The Scotsman's dream

This is Jay, my late father's brother, having a wee snooze on the sofa after dinner. Just like my Dad, he is from Helensburgh in Scotland but spent a major chunk of his adult life in San Francisco. My father, who was called Robbin (yes, with two 'b's), joined the Merchant Navy as a young lad but couldn't shake off the seasickness. so left after a couple of years to become a carpenter and joiner. But Jay seemed to have more solid sea legs and ended up spending his entire career plying the seas.
He has a few tales to tell of life on the Whale's Road: getting tattooed in Egypt during the 1950s (he still bears the inky smudges to this day); the day he found a fellow sailor dead in his bunk; sunshine and fine food in Tahiti (it's quite nice down there apparently); struggling to find a few bucks to pay for food between jobs during one lean period (he told me a story about raiding grocery stores just after I'd been laid off :/); delivering armaments to Vietnam during the...errr, Vietnam war. I am not joking about the latter, by the way....he saw a firefight on at least one occasion: the night sky behind a riverside town lit up with tracer and artillery fire. I guess that sort of makes him a 'Nam vet.
Just like my Dad he loves his films and will recount the plot of his favourites to you in great detail at the drop of an anchor rope. Unlike my rather more austere Dad however, Jay is a lifelong gourmand - ever ready with his pans and opinions on various supermarket delicacies. He drinks whiskey chasers with his beer, likes a smoke, and is a long time fan of the Rolling Stones. It's only rock n roll but he likes it....