Weekend Pass

A weekend pass was issued from the powers on high and an exploratory recce of the Fat Boy Slim gig was planned. To minimise suspicion this was in the form of a booze cruise around Loch Ness organised through the works social committee; really a front for my more mainstream activities.

Hair was primed to a magnificent peak, buttons were full polished and a sneaky hipflask stowed for those critical moment when the queue to the bar is just too long. On my march along the canal side to rendezvous with the boat I found a fine bicycle half submerged in the canal. With some careful footing and a lot of grunt I the cycle was free of its watery resting place. I stashed this in some bushes for extraction later (I collected on Sat morning and gifted it to my neighbour as it was still in better nick than his current bike).

The vessel was perfect with seating upstairs, a well stocked bar (if you liked miller) and a mix of people. Primary complaint lay in the disco that was provided, it was so awful as to force people to brave the wind and cold spray on the top deck, as far away s you could get. It was 8pm and the DJ thought that with an competely deserted dance floor, grease lighting was just the dab to get people dancing. Enough was enough, DJ was taken aside for a quite word and the threats of drowning if he continued with his current intents. This had the desired effect and the critical cheese threshold was not breached again, there was much celebration.

Those lucky souls that have never experienced the Loch Ness and are going to RockNess are going to be stunned, turn 180 degrees around from the stage and look out over the Loch. Catch your breath, turn back around and unleash unholy hell dance level 3 operations. Damn its gonna be good, with a full hipflask, careful medication and pre-arranged rendezvous points the platoon should make it out the otherside. It did confirm that my dear Youthful Indiscretion is not the vessel to be used as a landing vessel and a full ground assult is called for, she would be awash before we would manage to beach her.

Friday evening was spent drinking whisky out of a pilfered cup and saucer in Hootananay's, whereby a random date was arranged involving a bus and map. Is it a blind date if you were so blind drunk you cannot really remember bugger all from your first encounter? This Friday looks to be interesting especially as I know not her name, what she looks like and where the hell the bus and map come into play. I do remember polka dots, nice shoes and her ability to get served at the bar faster than anyone I have ever seen before, still not helpful identifying traits unless she wears exactly the same outfit whilst continually ordering drinks at the bar.

Saturday was spent toiling on my faithful vessel, electrocuting myself, drinking cups of tea, fighting the compulsion to jump in and then of course drinking again. An Inverness first, without specific plans to meet anyone and an unfathomable urge for more liquor I wandered into town to see who was out. A random encounter on the street led me to a well supplied house party, much mingling and exploration of this massive house. Rocket fuel punch powered us back into town for some nightclub action and another first, bumping into someone I knew but hadn't worked with...I KNOW its unheard of in Inverness. Deciding to take the host of the party up on his offer we piled out and back across the river for a night cap. However the hostess had other ideas and d got increasingly vocal and then ejected us out because it was HER party. I haven't been kicked out of a party since I was 16 and that was only cause the guys parents returned to find me pissing in her favourite plant pot. Oh happy days.

Sunday found more sleep deprived DIY action, tea, putting a drill through my hand and an encounter with a tin of wood preservative had colour issues. As a result the front of the boat now has seating that puts Peppers Ginger hair to shame, think Tommy Sherridan skinned and used to line my benches. That my friends is NOT what maple looks like. Bloody B&Q! All hopes of full spy satellite invisibility has been defeated by one tin of confused preservative. Keeps catching the side of my eye and I am like "What the hell is tha...Oh its only the bench". Love hate relationship with my abode continues.

Signing Off

DougalDutch