Yes..inside a sleeping bag and with me leg broken..what a bloody awful weekend THAT was. I had told my folks I was going away by train, but was actually on the back of my bf’s yamaha (we stowed my crutches underneath his bed) on doing the ton down the A77 in the pouring rain, the stookie on my leg kinda melted and took on the appearance of a plaster of paris sock sround my ankle..losing support altogether.
After a night inside a tent on Girvan beach where we (and the two mates who had come with us) huddled around a candle to keep warm..I demanded that we spent the next one in a B&B..unfortunately between that and the drinks bill..we ran out of money for food.
I limped back into the parental home on the Monday morning, ready to eat a scabby-heided wean and several of its siblings.
And my leg never did mend properly.
Have you ever compained about food in a restaurant and returned your meal (I did..and stupidly stayed on for pudding..I swear they spat in it)