Sunday, 14 July 2013


I awoke the next morning in a youth hostel on a hill with views of the rolling country and the foamy seas in the distance. Francis, Natalie's beau, had picked us up the previous evening in the midst of a bone-chilling windstorm and driven us to our resting place. Now we were all awake to the new day, blinking at one another, surprised to see our reunion was not imaginary after all.

The seagulls were crying and wheeling above our heads, and the air was brisk and bright and clear, and there was only one thing that could possibly make this day better: pirates!

And I got my wish, because who should come stalking through the dining hall but Captain Jack Sparrow himself, in the flesh. The hostel was hosting a pirate themed party for some young scouts, and it was quite amusing to watch Captain Sparrow and his striped cohort go about their business, lugging boxes and setting tables and hanging up banners in the honour of the day.

Hey, Captain, what's your favourite letter? 
That be an easy one, laddie. Aaarrrrrggggh.

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