Friday 8th May 1998

Keith had managed to get only the afternoon off work, rather than the whole day, so he was up again at 7.30am. However, in his attempt to creep around the house he kicked Doug in the head! Doug and Ed eventually got up, and went out to buy breakfast. Ed then proceded to cook a marvellous meal for us all. Weighed down with copious amounts of food, Doug Martin and Sara decided to do a bit of sightseeing. We headed for Seahouses which was, in Doug's words, "the arse end of nowhere". He wanted to see it because it was where a friend of his had lived, and that it was famous for its "butch, seriously ugly women chosen for their ability to push their men out to sea in their boats" (no mincing of words there, Doug, but then he does like Czech women!).

Seahouses seemed just like any other small town, with no particular examples of content to justify Doug's description. Good crazy golf course though . . .

A few of the passengers gritted their teeth as Martin executed some serious overtaking manoeuvres, partly not to be outdone by some madman in a blue Peugot 406! "We're all going to die!" was expressed on a few occasions. There were even some signs saying "frustration causes accidents, please allow overtaking". Cool!

While this was going on, Sara, Doug and Keith were getting increasingly bored and hungry and had resorted to tickle fights. Sara had been losing badly against her male opponents, and had resorted to trying to squeeze the enormous spot that had appeared on Doug's chin. After a near riot in the back, we stopped for a restoke at a Little Chef fourteen miles south of Inverness. Sara then took over the driving for the last very windy stint to Thurso. It was the first time Keith had experienced Sara's driving and boy was it an experience! ("well I don't believe in hanging around!").

We turned off the A9 into the home straight (23 miles to Thurso) and were met with the most fantastic sunset, which stopped us in our tracks and had us all scrabbling for our cameras. The boys tried to see who could throw a stone the furthest, with the target being a small lake in the distance: Doug was the nearest! We headed on into Thurso and, with instructions from a local garage, found the hostel, which looked like a University Hall of Residence strapped onto the side of an old house. Accommodation was clean and functional, though Ed reckoned that the bunks had been put together upside down.

We dumped our kit and made a swift exit to the local pub. On our way it was fascinating to watch the locals cruise around in their cars, not going anywhere, just driving around the block again and again. Bizarre! Local alcohol was consumed and the boys talked about their various female conquests. There was one girl who had been the conquest of Ed, Doug AND Keith . . . poor girl!!! Quote of the weekend from Ed: "It was like snogging a fish. She just opened up and you went 'aaaaaaaaahhhhhh' and fell in!". Sara falling asleep was the (eventual) prompt that we should get back to the hostel and go to bed. We arrived back to find that the Reef Rats team from Aberdeen had arrived and gone straight to bed. "Bloody hell, proper Octopush players!" exclaimed Doug.