My long-time friend Aye Dubya and I are involved in some sort of canal boat race/venture.... only I seem to be speeding ahead without him (as ever...), somewhat conscious of this fact. At times the (narrow) canal has no locks at all, simply sloping up to dry land. At times like these the boat merely shrivels up akin to a long deflated balloon-
Are we racing against two young women? This attractive pair in their early 20s appear to be following me/us and there is definitely something of a rapport. One of them sports a light blue top, a single strap over one shoulder, that has material spikes 2-3 inches long all over the surface. I experience a pang of disappointment at one point when she takes it off – given the jaggy top's bulk it seems her breasts, quite small in another halter/crop top underneath, are not as big as I imagined-
I emerge from some sort of narrow tunnel next to a great building structure. A friendly enough guy with cosy(?) ginger hair and a blue suit approaches me, asking if I know where I am/what it is? He tells me it is Ibrox (stadium) and I try to feign that I am impressed (whilst inside I wish I had the courage to say that I don't care... that no one cares)-
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