Just like Jack

Aye, Jack Vettriano. Jumpin Jack Vettriano, so it is. I'd some photos on the big camera, but this is it for today. Plans were thrown into confusion by a text from Herr Heinz saying that it was his last day and was I still coming along for a lunchtime pint?
I'd thought it was ramarra. But it wasnae. So off I went. Glug glug. And then at 6pm there was the meet up of the A4 club. A lark, indeed. Though the pub was continually invaded by crowds of rowdy Welshmen (I thought we were away this weekend - we're at hame, tsk). Eventually, time to escort Herr H across the road and here was this breezy scene. I've cropped the staggering boy from Mauchline out of it.
Oh aye, and listened long to The Flower o' the Quern when I got in. Tearful and beautiful. Though, there's no many versions that pope out on t'internet.