Whatever that means
A day for hanging out with the Belgians before putting them on a plane back to Belgionia or wherever it is they came from. First stop is Dunfermline Abbey for a mooch about the free bits and a visit to the sweet shop on the High Street. I suppose you’d get sick of Belgian chocolate eventually so Alan wants to stock up on Oddfellows, sweet peanuts, Kola Kubes and other retro swedgers. Must say that I was less than impressed by most of them. The oddfellows were OK but the puff candy, chelsea whoppers and sweet peanuts were disappointing.
From there to the Falkirk Wheel. Ewan had tried to explain it to Oscar but language barriers – Ewan’s limited grasp of English – got in the way. It had to be seen. It’s an impressive sight. A continuation of Scotland’s history of engineering excellence. It was broke. We got on the boat, chugged into the gondola, waited … waited … waited. Got off again and queued for a refund. After a sit and an ice cream it was time to head for the airport.
Two cars parked for 20 minutes to unload the Belgians and their gear, check in, kiss a cheek, kiss the other one, look confused about whether it should be two or three, do it anyway, say bye bye etc. £3.50 for each car. I’m not mean but fuck me that’s just robbery.
Still, great to have them although it was a long wait and we could maybe try under better circumstances next time.