Friday night 8

The pub was full. There were 52 internet cyclists, a swelling crowd of visitors for the footie tournament tomorrow (Saturday) and it being end of term the teachers were in there getting slaughtered.

The cyclists, who came from all over, had met on the internet and then decided to tour from Lands End to John o Groats. Goie - the modern world huh? Of all the colours and shapes of tourist we get - cyclists are probably the least welcome. Highlanders are petrol heads and on single track roads cyclists and petrol heads just aint a good mix. I got into one conversation with a bunch of locals that amounted to a boasting session - tales of bumping cyclists on the wee roads. Being a cyclist myself (well ok - ex cyclist) - I tried to defend the cyclists position but it was a futile effort. Of course all their tales of sending cyclists flying into the heather was bravado - wasn't it?

School had closed at 12:30 - and judging by appearances the teachers had legged it to the pub the minute the bell went. That dash would be the last time they'd have use of their legs for several days. As the bar was full, Jussi and I had to grab a seat where we could - and that was amongst the teachers. We joined them in the middle of a fishing competition. Someone had tied an After Eight wrapper (cue slightly unsettling music) to a straw and the competition seemed to be about dipping said wrapper into each others drinks to the hilarity of all except everyone else in the bar.

Doubtless the After Eights (music starts to build the tension) had been gifted by some ungifted pupil hoping for better marks next term. But for me After Eights (oh god oh god what's going to happen) meant only one thing.

Choccy Foreheads (crashing crescendo). It would be unkind of me to blame Chris for introducing last weekends Mod with Choccy Foreheads. It was my own doing.

Choccy Foreheads involves placing an After Eight on your forehead and then migrating the rapidly melting confectionery to your mouth by means of facial contortions. It is a funny game to play and watch. And I succeeded on the first attempt and was rewarded with cooling mint and smudgy brown face.

Several teachers rushed in to take up the challenge. Unfortunately, excessive alcohol consumption had taken its toll on their coordination and they soon gave up. By 'soon' I mean immediately. They gave up because they couldn't find their foreheads. I wonder if they remembered Choccy Foreheads when they awoke to find their hair matted and pillows encrusted with minty goo. If they do I suspect I've blown Ailsa's chances at school next year.