Had the day off on Friday, so we headed up to Braemar. me, gordy & the dugs. We met paul up there. I had a wee tittavee with my tent on arrival but the boys calmed me down. paul had taken a nasty tumble on the walk in, so he was sleepinhg in the bothy, so I was able to borrow his tent pole.
There was a 24 carat nutter in the bothy. Pished when we got there, he seemed to want to be the centre of attention one way or the other. he decided to collapse on top of pauls' stuff, so that led to words, thereats of violence, face bitin, throat cutting and generrally stuff that would have got the polis phoned immediately if we'd been anywhere near civilisation. Not a great start. But saturday night was just miserable. two young guys came back to the bothy, about 3 hours later than expected. they'd lost their dog, drowned in a wee loch - it had gone through the ice & wouldn't, or couldn't get back. i'd have been dead rather than leave the dog, which I rather think they eventually did, but as calvin syas there's no problem that doesn't get worse by adding guilt to it, so nothing was said.
fucking miserable altogether.
i can't be bopthered going back over this to check the spelling. depressing altogether.