Andy Cap

After a relaxing morning (yes rhubarb from the back garden, and yoghurt from, well, a nearby supermarket) it was down to get that boat over to a mooring. And who could I press into piloting the tender through the dangerous waters of granton mud hole but Andy G. Three days running I've been with him. I'll soon discover that he actually has a surname. Here he is, all B&W.
Well I got moored and ferried back and off he went leaving me to realise that I'd left my specs on the boat. So back I went, on tod, through ferocious seas in high winds, to find they weren't there either.
There they were, lying beside the sink, when I eventually got back to baywatch (thanks DW) cottages. What a yarn, eh? I may set it to music and sing it with a finger in my ear.
So then off up to see maw. Cheerfully off her head. No sense at all. She'd been in a bus to a hall at the back of the Lyceum. Boys had demolished a wall and replaced it with sticks. She talked to a woman called meringue. I suppose it could be the second verse?