Fair Winds

Sair leg notwithstanding*, I couldn't keep away from boats and harbours on this most lovely of days. That was after a mug of Teuchter's macaroni. Terrific. Anyway, young K had the best tale to tell. Seems that yesterday he'd been out for an evening sail with I and J and as often happens, they did repair to the Chain Pier for a drink. Half past midnight, the threesome split and K sat on the sea wall rolling himself a ciggie, and as he did say himself, he found himself in love with the world.
A car stopped with two Glaswegian gentlemen who asked him the way to London Road. Our hero attempted to explain before he had a Beezer idea - why don't you give me a lift - I live just down the bottom of Leith Walk and I could point out the way from there as it's not far. Ahem, poor K wasn't in the car for long before he realised the driver was pure oota it - stopping at green lights and extremely uncertain in his use of the left lane. Eventually, they arrived at the foot of the walk and K pointed out the Central Bar. I can get out here he says. Driver says, can't do that mate. K says - it's ok you can just pull up - there's a big space. Naw, he repeats. K is now a bit agitated and decides he'll do a runner with his bag as soon as they stop. But instead the driver pulls into Gordon St and instantly there are cars with blue flashing lights at back, front and alongside. The driver legs it and escapes! His mate is pinned. K is spread over the bonnet and cuffed. Off to the station.
Eventually they cleared him, but I gather it was a nervous few hours in the cells. As the polisman said, ten out of ten associates say they just got a lift. Poor old K; he was lucky - stolen car and a case of attempted murder. Still, it had been a good evening up till then.


* not with standing, geddit? Oh, suit yourselves.