The shock was too great even for Sir Nick, and with an involuntary jerk of the arm his freshly purchased Gin and Tonic shot to the floor of the Ryan Air sprinter. The pilot had just pointed out we were flying over Burnley;
"You could buy a great night out for that much down there" said Liberal Life-Peer Lord Haves of Wokingham, somewhat unhelpfully,
"You know, when I had a milk round as a lad in Stoke......."
The group of intrepid adventureers were on their way; four of them had managed to arrive on time at East Midlands Airport for the lunch-time shuttle flight to Inverness. The fifth, Mike Mason, Tory MP for Gussett and The Borders,was somewhere down below ,engrossed in his Red Boxes and pink salmon cocktails,largessing his way (First-Class) northwards, on an all- expenses paid diesel train.
The Yes Yes Geraldine, fully adorned in Macmillan Cancer Support bunting, lying at anchor in Inverness.
Three hours later and and following an informative journey across Inverness by taxi ("Och, I`ve had em all in here, ye know, Rogers, Hammerstein, Disney....heh sonny,yes you in the back there, yers looks like an American film actor ....ye know, that wee feller with the big nose in Jaws..")we arrived at the boat yard and boarded the `YES YES GERALDINE`. Four bedrooms, two toilets and power showers,a CD player and a fridge.....this was going to be tougher than we thought. Skipper and round the world seaman Nick Eaves took us out for a spin around the fish docks, and then embarked upon a demonstration of nautical knots. This was getting serious.
"Any questions?" he barked.
"I feel a bit queezy" said Drummer Dave, a former Punk musician from Okker Hill,east of Bilston.
"On a point of Order" said MP Mike, "I`d expected a bedroom to myself"
"What time does the Co-op shut?" asked organiser and shipping magnate Ash James.
The Skipper scowled. It was going to be a long week.
In preparation for the morning tide,the group headed into town for supplies and a filling meal. Several hours later as they slumped back to their isolated berth, borne down under the weight of salted kippers and barrels of prunes, they were alerted to an unexpected noise. At least four drunken girls were hopping from boat to boat, singing, burping and shouting. The arrival of the five sea dogs old enough to be their grandfathers further encouraged their frivolity.
"Are you`s Wet Wet Wet?"
"Mister,can you`s see proper to steer the boot?"
"Heh big man, do yers wont me to knit yer a net fer yer head?"
This wonderful welcome to teenage Inverness continued for another fifteen minutes or so. And then, the bridge too far.....they actually fired up the engine on the boat next door. Drummer Dave had had enough. He stretched himself out to his full (and not inconsiderable) girth. The advice he gave them was direct.
"Heh you. You see this drumstick......"
They all legged it.
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