So, last Sunday Pip arrived and we did things such as climb the local mountain and swim in the (not particularly warm) river, which was filled with young trout.
Atop Ben Hiant |
Look at his widdle face... you'd never think he was the author of controversial dystopian literature. |
Sans duck, we took a trip to Tobermory, scene of faintly unsettling British childrens' television program Balamory, ate posh chips, and discovered an honesty shop which was filled to the rafters with Mills & Boons. This proved to be most convenient, as the photograph below demonstrates:
HOW convenient. |
The final night was spent sippin' homemade alcoholic concoctions... sloe gin for me, potent French apple brandy for Pip. I indulged in some sneaky stitchery of the aforementioned soon-to-be-revealed piece, too.
In fact, we managed to get through a nigh-on obscene amount of booze during our three weeks in Branault... in the two weeks before Pip arrived, my parents and I seemingly drank seventeen bottles of wine... definitely time to switch into life post-uni, methinks!
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