Apart from the first night getting squiffy and coming upon those wonderful Cornish rappers (see previous post), the trip which involved giving a lift to the boy and his Swedish girlfriend to their compact but adorable seaside apartment, the few days were - thankfully - remarkably unremarkable.
Blimey, though - aren't cars cheap down there? This sparklingly newish MG Sports was for sale at £899 ONO - about the same as I paid for my old Volvo. Luckily I was dissuaded from committing a serious (if late) mid-life decision by the rest of the crew, so walked past it. It wouldn't have looked good with a tow-bar on the back anyway.
This is H.I. and the young, Swedish beauty walking down the road, surreptitiously snapped by me for reasons which will become obvious in a minute.
When we arrived at their bijou little pad, I looked around to see one small room with a sofa in it, a bathroom which would suit a cat, kitchen ditto, and one double bed upstairs which filled the room.
I thought I saw Swedish and the boy go upstairs to their room, and I wondered how on earth we would all fit into the place for two nights. Whilst keeping an eye on the narrow staircase to make sure I couldn't be heard by the kids, I sidled up to H.I. who had her back to me and seemed to be reading the kid's mail, and came within a gnat's whisker of whispering into her ear, "Where are we going to sleep tonight?"
Luckily, I looked around in time to realise that I was about to proposition Swedish. Her hair was down at the time, and I wasn't paying attention. That would have taken some explaining.
Another very good misunderstanding happened the same night, as we were walking to the pub in the dusk.
As we climbed the path to the pub overlooking the harbour, I stopped to take in the view, stepped backwards slightly and stepped on what I thought was a snail, although it turned out to be an empty snail-shell. It made a wet, rasping sort of splattery crunching sound, and I looked down and said, "Oh no!"
H.I. - who was standing next to me at the time - also said the same, and the boy - who had heard the sound - looked over in the half dark to see me and her staring down at my trousers in horror. He immediately thought that I had shat myself, and was about to return home to change.
I wonder what he thinks of me when I am not around, and what he tells his friends.
Here are the sales details for that MG. If anyone buys it, they will have to get the seller to buy Grandson and Swedish a few drinks in The Boathouse, Falmouth. That's the deal.