In my early 20’s a friend asked if I’d help with a visitor from New York. After four years away, Party Pete had saved enough to return to Scotland and he was expecting a fortnight of tartan infused hedonism.
Pete was to be passed from friend to friend, like a vibrating party parcel, leaving hosts knackered in his wake. We had him for two nights.
The night we took Pete to Edinburgh’s a blur but I vividly recall the next morning at South Queensferry; we had sunglasses, ice creams and bridges.
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