Blow me down!

What would you think if your driving instructor turned up with his shirt splattered with blood?

I have half an hour to kill before Stephanie's lesson, so I am sitting at the links, in Nairn, overlooking the sea. The sun is quite hot, but I am having to sit in the car to shelter from the wind; 'blustery' is not the word.... it is 'rumballiach' ('tempestuous')! The Moray Firth is usually quite a placid stretch of water (at least, it is this end), but today it is filled with white horses galloping towards the east. Although the leaves are still green, they are being stripped from the trees, and the wind is even strong enough to blow over a parked motorbike. I am concerned that the car is rocking so much that it may look a little suspicious.
I collected my previous pupil, Gayle, from the BSM office, near the castle in Inverness. As we walked to the car an elderly man was literally blown off his feet. I helped him up and the lady in the nearby hairdressers said I could let him sit down in her her salon while an ambulance was called. He had a nasty cut to his head and the blood quickly covered his face. The wind was so strong though, that it sprayed the blood all over me. I now look like an extra from a horror film, with a worrying amount of blood over my shirt. It was all over my face and hands too, but, as a result of Swine flu, I always carry antibacterial travel soap with me. Nothing I can do about the shirt though.
So, now I have to go to collect Stephanie with a blood-splattered shirt. Perhaps I shall just tell her that it is a result of my previous pupil disagreeing with me.