Back up the road

Back up that road after something of a late rise. What a fine night we had; music and chatter. Ahem. One thing I think that will stick is a new (additional) name for Big Phil. Many years ago, working his way up the profession that is managing crazy people, he had a stint in Carstairs, the state hospital for the criminally insane. Anyway, he met an old inmate years later who alluded to a nickname that BP had, unbeknown to himself. The Bear. Apparently this was given to him when one of the inmates was on the point of kicking off and Phil picked him up under his arm and marched out the ward with him. He was only 5’3” said Phil modestly, as he related the tale to us. Still, getting the name “the bear” from the country’s most dangerous psychotic criminals is something, eh? Respect! 
Anyway, time to whisk McC homeward, except he couldn't find his house keys. Where had he put them. In his jacket maybe, except that was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t sure he'd brought it. Off we headed and there it was: he’d left it in the bar in Carfraemill on Monday evening. I think we need a carer with us.