Doon in Troon

While the rest of the country gets soaked we roll out of Glasgow with our arms scorching - down to Troon and its clear, languid light. Andy and Susie and their two wee ger'ls, Katie and Emma come running out to meet us and I furnish the kids with some ice creams then we pile inside. A big BBQ is under way and lots of their friends there, girls beautifully turned out in heels, CD shades, French manicures, blonde tresses. The guys are all in the local rugby team. All the guys are hooked up with all the girls - it's like an Ayreshire soap opera with extra bawdiness.

Everyone gets stuck into the booze - it's Bank Holiday Sunday and most of them are feeling pretty ordinary after staying up all night, raging: cider, wine, shots, hot choc with Morgan's Spiced and strawberries at 7am...but they're still standing and looking sprightly. I decide it's time to open Dave's Elderberry Wine ('alcohol content: lots'). Great big glasses are filled in a gung-ho fashion, which soon turns to quiet horror as the full reality of this dark liquid hits...back to the shiraz we go!

Andy tends the barbie outside, the kids run around in the big girls' heels, more booze flows. Conversation gets quite lewd - something about a dog and a couple of the girls and...lipstick(?!), and about Andy's controversial speech at his wedding, and Maryhill and what a rough place it is and how if you're from Troon you always have to rough up your accent when you go to Glasgow or you'll get jumped. And then we're introduced to the 'Wedge-otard'. One of the rugby players likes dressing up in this hot pink, high-cut leotard and launching himself on the local boozer in it, super-hero style and we get to see him in action.

The BBQ is really hearty - burgers, steak, sausages, lamb, kebabs, baps, salad and everyone swarms the table as soon as it's out. Eventually, after hours more of laughing and joking everyone leaves and me and Alanna fall into our makeshift beds with glee.

The next day Andy's up and at 'em with the most enormous cooked breakfast ever. "You ger'ls need to get a good Scottish breakfast insahd ye" he declares and then rolls out a platter that requires two people to carry it.

I load up my plate with sausage, black pudding, square sausage, tattie scones, haggis, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, toast...but draw the line at the Aberdeen Angus steak.

Fully fortified we waddle off to the beach to do a bit of fly-pitching.