Close, but no cigar

Up and packed, and re packed, and a close shave with nearly having sheep in the car, and after the fond farewells we were off on the road again.

With car sickness from CarbBoy interrupting the journey we were a bit late arriving at the senior Bs. The visit was fine, though not helped by snippy comments about my folks, and an unfortunate car door finger jamming incident. Oh, and the restaurant that stubbornly insisted the tasteless cheese in Mr B's salad* was Roquefort despite it being tasteless and not blue).

Anyway, we survived, no-one told our kids any scary rape stories, and we are now safely enclosed in our little apartment on what I would call a Close, but apparently is called a Wynd near the Castle in Edinburgh. The telly isn't working, I can't be bothered to disturb the landlord (on holiday in Greece) so we are reading magazines (and blipping) by candlelight. Just like the old days. Apart from blip via 4G, of course.

(* I know! Salad! I don't think he'll make that mistake again. Don't worry though, he just nipped out for a kebab and balance has been restored to the Force.)