"Come on, Uncle Tuppy! get some of that fat off!"
It was Tuppence, shouting in the window at some ungodly hour. He threw open the curtain - releasing a cloud of moths as he did so - and clambered in.
"What was that? Speak up uncle Tuppy!"
I cleared my throat and decided not to repeat it. After all, why risk a serious "doing" when you don't have to?
"We're only on our fourth cup of tea, for pity's sake Tuppence!" complained Geoffrey.
Anyway - the upshot of it all is that the three of us have dragged the old coracle out of the attic and we're off for a scull round the Bay.
I can only hope that the weather remains calm, and that Baby Orca is still somewhere off the Orkneys...
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