Happy Easter to all my K9 and other friends!
You’ll be delighted to hear I’ve put in some serious training while most of you
were trailing round garden centres, redecorating the sitting room or visiting
ungrateful relatives.
My pal Al and Judy decided that the coast to coast was getting close and they
needed to harden me up. As if. So off we went to Scotland. No cosy, dog-friendly
B&Bs these days, just the rather Spartan simplicity of their new camper van. It
was so cold at night they had to cover me with a tartan rug to keep me warm.
Thanks a bunch. Faint whimpering failed to attract an invitation on to their
bed.
Easter Saturday: Anyway, the days were real fun – a great 5-hour trek through
the snow to climb some un-named peak close to the Isle of Skye’s Cuillin Hills.
Fantastic! Loads of interesting new smells – red deer, red grouse and (white)
ptarmigan to mention but a few. But it gets better……
I also spotted a man dressed all in white standing in the middle of nowhere.
Spooky! I slipped into best stalking mode and crept through the heather to
investigate. Imagine my embarrassment when it turned out to be a snowman. I
tried to pretend it was a joke – but I’m not sure A & J were fooled. How the
hell did it find its way into the middle of a moorland wilderness and miles from
the nearest road? Extra-terrestrials, I reckon.
Easter Monday: We had an even more exciting 6½-hour trek to climb some
unpronounceable Munro (Scottish 3,000ft peak) near Loch Lomond. It was only
slightly spoilt by two things…..
Number 1: I was made to wear my silly new panniers carrying my own lunch (what’s
wrong with Dad’s rucksack?).
Number 2: We had to stop just short of the summit as you-know-who had decided we
didn’t need ice axes and left them in the van. You must be kidding! I needed
crampons. I could see Mum wasn’t too pleased and Dad muttered a bit about
someone called ‘Prudence’. The only Prudence I know is that friend of Gordon
Brown.
Tailpiece: For those not familiar with the Scottish Highlands, red deer are as
common as sheep. They’re no fools either. The noble Monarch of the Glen now
successfully touts for scraps at every roadside pull-in. Hmm, this sounds like a
good career move.
