wingpig

By wingpig

or were they

Had I had the geared bike I might just have beaten the others out to Oriam at Riccarton; as it was the closeness of my arrival time to theirs was masked by my waiting outside for fifteen minutes, not wanting to call to distract the driver, until I spotted the car in the car park. We were there to meet the Invernesian cousins, as the eldest niece was playing basketball, with the intention of going out for some food later on, then meeting up again in the morning after they stayed in Porty overnight. As it ended up, our presence aided in the carrying of the basketball-playing niece out to the car and then the procession of the two cars to the walking wounded clinic at the Western, in case the twisted and stepped-on ankle was more than a sprain. The bicycle was then useful in popping to Stockbridge for some chips, before they all went back to Inverness and we went home.

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