"H-E-E-E-LP!!!" I screamed as the coracle hurtled towards the crack in the cliffs.
Not only was I suffering from severe indigestion, my waterproof trousers were cutting in something awful - possibly, though I hate to admit it, due to the bagging up effect of recent over-indulgence in FJRs.
Before venturing out in the coracle, Geoffrey and I were discussing the possible "health properties" of the jam, i.e. "fruit", in the middle, and wondering whether it might count towards our five a day (not that we're that bothered).
"Don't be so stupid," sneered a scornful voice. It was none other than the Ghastly Wilson, sticking his head through the open window (the chimney had been smoking again) all geared up to provide us with yet another unwanted lecture on health/death avoidance.
"Oh, who cares anyway," we replied, grabbing some supplies and making a dash for the boathouse. "Let's go for a quiet sail and relax."
It has been pleasant so far, if a tad choppy. Let's hope we make it through the C-C-C-R-R-A-A-A-A-A-CK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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