Saturday 16 June 2012


That's the word. I was up at the back of five this morning, all ready to head north in search of the half decent weather that had been promised. A new Munro was in the offing - just the one, mind - I wasn't going to be greedy.

It was, however, pishing it down here at the back of five, and the rain-soaked road to the Highlands wasn't quite appealing enough, so I repaired to bed for another three hours, then took the dugs down the park, watched the Wales v Australia rugby and decided to spend the day drinking beer and watching the telly.

And tramping through Youtube.

Here's a song from Black Stone Cherry at that Secret Session me & Gordy got to see back in March. Ah, memories.



  1. My options were...

    1. Lie underneath the Landy and swear profusely at the transfer box until it'd been repaired.


    2. Go climb something pointy(ish) with the dug.

    What really happened was a wander round the park with the dug and now I'm sitting here drinking tea because the wife has gone out to drink beer and I'm the taxi. Still, at least the dug is happy.

  2. Tea's good, certainly.

    Dug happiness is crucial though.