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Leaving the hidden coast

Leaving the hidden coast

Mum was up early this morning, she woke me and told dad to take me for a walk. Looks like we are going home. I can tell when adventures are over, there is always a feeling that comes off of mum and dad. Better make the most of our walk dad. When we got back mum had brecky ready which was soon scoffed. I was on long leash while dad got Betsy ready to go. Mum had gone down to the marina to buy a top for her mum. Windows locked? “Yes Poppy” Arial Down? “Yes Poppy” Steps Up? “Yes Poppy” OK let’s go get Mum. Betsy started to role out of camp, we waved to the peoplsees from the nice house in Arran and went down the hill to get mum. A lot of posh cars here dad, “You’re not wrong Poppy, you’re not wrong” said dad.
Mum got in and Betsy was on the road again. She trundled along the empty country roads, she passed through Millhouse, up and down the hill to Tighnabruaich on The Kyles of Bute. She started to climb the hills on the banks of the shore and at the top had a wee rest so we could take in the view.
Look dad a ferry are we going on that? “No Poppy, that’s the ferry to Bute. Remember Bute? Down there is Glendaruil, remember the fete and the Shinty game?”
Betsy started up again down the hill we went. The road to the ferry was quiet, we had the windows open and the smells changed the whole journey, grass, pine, heather then the sea. At the ferry terminal was a big Que cars everywhere. We might have to wait for the next ferry. The ferry came in and the nice ferry peoplesees let us get on before all the peoplesees in the Que! They must like Poppys.
Mum and me stayed inside Betsy but dad got out to stretch his legs. Probably because we have a shift working in the garden later today.

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