On and off piste in Glen Tanar

Shall I let you into a wee secret?

It seems that when Gail was looking for a small to medium sized terrier to replace her beloved Hamish the Westie, one key criterion was that the new dog should have legs long enough to enable him to yomp over our heather-clad Scottish hills without difficulty. Apparently on a couple of occasions Gail tried taking Hamish across the upland moors on paths less trodden and ended up carrying all 22 lb of wriggling white fluffiness for much longer than she would have wished.

Little did she know that the bouncy wee puppy she selected to follow Hamish would grow into a strapping fox terrier, tall enough to exceed the official breed standard height to a degree that would disqualify him from Crufts.

In truth we rarely venture off piste on our walks, but yesterday Gail decided on a cross country route which she claimed would be just fine, given all our recent dry weather, and would avoid a long walk through a boring stretch of pine plantation.

Have you any idea how hard work it is, traversing lumpy tussocks of moss and heather, in between which one's paws can sink suddenly and unpredictably into squelchy boggy gullies?

Not to mention that these places are tick heaven.

Frankly I was most relieved when we finally regained the 'boring' forest track.

And happier still when we ended the walk on a nicely soft, smooth and paw-soothing grassy path.

Irrespective of leg length, I am thinking Hamish had the right idea insisting at times on being carried.

Oh and please note that despite my height, I actually weigh a couple of pounds less than Hamish did.

FFHT: Hamish at Cruden Bay

It's Murphy and Stanley's FFHT time again. And after missing the last two months due to Gail being distracted by other matters, we are delighted to be taking part again.

HAMISH AT CRUDEN BAY (OR, WHEN THEY REALLY SHOULD HAVE MOVED THE GOALPOSTS…)

Sometimes, of an evening, when I am cuddled up on Gail's lap, I like to hear stories about my predecessor Hamish the Westie. The best ones are, of course, those in which Hamish commits some dreadful misdemeanour.

This is what Gail related last night:

Bertie, did I ever tell you about the first time I took Hamish for a walk on the beach at Cruden Bay, when he was about four years old? I knew I would remember this incident forever, because of the reaction of the lady who witnessed it…..

It was a lovely sunny afternoon in the middle of summer - well, lovely at least by Aberdeenshire standards. The haar had stayed offshore and, although hardly tee shirt weather, it was warm enough not to need an anorak. Quite a few other folk were enjoying the beach that day, including one family party who were working off their picnic lunch with an impromptu game of football. Discarded clothing served as goalposts. 

Imagine my horror when Hamish made a beeline for the makeshift posts and cocked his leg. Before I could stop him he had generously 'decorated' a jacket made of highly absorbent material. What's worse, a lady about my age, presumably one of the family, was standing right there watching him. 

"Oh I am SO SORRY", I grovelled, "I should have been keeping a closer eye on him, I feel terrible, please you must let me give you some money for dry cleaning, oh dear, Hamish you are a BAD DOG!"

But you know what? The lady just stood there and laughed. 

"Oh don't you worry about it, it's not a problem at all, it's only my husband's jacket!"  

Bertie at Cruden Bay,  June 2014

Celebrating five years of comments from Stella!

But Bertie, you are only are only three years, eleven months and eight days old, I hear you say (if you are reading this on the day it was posted). You can't possibly have known Stella for five years.

Well of course it was my predecessor Hamish the Westie  who first encountered the famous Stella from Minniesnowda. This is the comment she left on Hamish's blog on 26th January 2009.

Hi Hamish! This is my first visit to your blog and it looks like its gonna be fun. I'm going to put you on my Favorite Blogs and visit often.

You come see me too. 

Kisses,
Stella

Gail says this was a big milestone because shortly afterwards Stella told some of her blogging friends about Hamish and, after six months of being ignored by the world at large, his blog finally gained a following.

You know, in this trip down Memory Lane today I am going to mostly let Stella speak for herself via her comments on Hamish's and later on my blog.

So this is what she said to Hamish when he complained about sore paws hurting in the snow:

9th February 2009: You know, Hamish, the sled dogs of the North require boots to protect their feet over long miles of pulling a heavy sled. So if you want to on-line shop you could find a Sled Dog Supplier for your red boots.
Or you could just do like me, toughen your feet up on the walks and get stronger about it. Bear it, in other words!

Gosh, I certainly recognise that voice! But then a few days later Stella came back with:

12th February 2009: Hamish, I think I owe you an apology because I was harsh about your feets and needing bootz. I know you are an older guy and I want to be more respecting of you.

I am wondering how old I shall have to be before I get this sort of respect from Stella, something I can only dream about just now. See how the relationship developed:

11th June 2009: Ah, Hamish, you are such a dashing fellow and so good to Gail.

29th June 2009 (following a post about String Theory): Happy 100th Post, Hamish! I really wish I could share your interest in this scientific theory, but alas, my brain is just not equipped for such thinking. It doesn't stop me for admiring you, though, for being the deep thinker that you are. I would be thrilled to see a Nobel come your way. I like your new collar too. 

15th October (encouragement when Hamish complained about feeling his age): You are a wonderful 14 year old guy, and if you just keep to what you know, you will have quite a few more years, I think. And I love you just the way you are, too.

17th January 2010 (on Hamish's new red coat - the one I now occasionally wear): Hi dear Hamish, I don't know how I missed this post, but I did! Your new coat is just the BEST, all the features, collar up, collar down, velcro, your name, are simply grand. You could wear it to Minniesnowda and not get a bit cold. Maybe get some slippers for the feets.

17th January (after reading about the famous scone and lace tablecloth incident): Oh, Hamish, what a perfectly wonderful story! No pictures needed, you told it very well. The thought of a cute little white dog with jam and cream and scone crumbs all over his face is just too rare. I'm sure Granny scolded you, but these things are usually forgiven fairly soon.

7th February (when Hamish reported suffering from seizures): Hamish! You are my best pal, I can't have you be sick! Do what the Vet tells you and get better soonest! Oh, I just wish we were not separated by so much ocean and miles. I would visit you everyday there was if I could.Love and hugs, Stella.

19th February (on hearing the saddest news): It was a great shock to me to learn that my best friend and pal, Hamish Westie has passed on. Who will argue with me now, and who will advise me, and who will love me like he did? He was an irreplaceable Pal, and I can't even think of the days without him. My Mom was telling a friend about him and said that she thought he would be passing soon and when he did it would be like losing Otis the Scotty (age 16) all over again. And it is.Our friendship and love will remain with you, Gail, you who took such good care of him.In sympathy, Stella and Jo.

I have to tell you that Gail shed a wee tear when re-reading the 19th February comment. But of course before long I, Bertie, bounced on the scene. This is how Stella greeted me:

20th April 2010: Hello Bertie! Welcome to our world! We are so happy that you have finally arrived and that things are going (somewhat) well for you. If you need anything, just let us know! Has she had you leash walking yet? Not easy, but you will manage it. Kisses and a cuddle, Stella and her Mom.

Stella was always concerned abut my educational progress: 

16th May 2010: Hey Bertie! Now where are all the details of your first puppy school class? I would think you would be bursting to tell us all! You are a very handsome boy and will prove to be an excellent airhead I am sure! Just lets hear how that first class went. 

But when I embarked on series of 'Bertie Boffin' science lectures, the relationship with Stella hit a rocky patch: 

21st September 2010 (after the thermodynamics lecture) :Whoa, Bertie! I came because I heard there was gonna be frosted cake . . .what happened to that? I brought a couple of biscuits from home and I think Mango swiped them. I'll try to come next week but some improvements need doing. . .like the frosted cake for just one thing. I also want to know why didn't Ludo come? He is a special friend of mine, and I was looking forward to seeing him here.

And things went from bad to worse when I organised a geological field trip in Scotland for all my dog blogging friends: 

8th October 2010: It seems that you are busy these days organizing your field trip. Now in an earlier letter from Eric SquareDog he said he didn't care to be rained on and would stay in the van if the weather was inclement. And I repeated those words in my letter. I have no wish to be wet or uncomfortable in anyway and I will come only if I can stay in the van (you providing a warm wooly blanket for me). Now this includes getting my feet wet. I just don't like it. So, Bub, take it or leave it. I believe you also said eats were not important. I have news for you, they are highly important. Now you were concerned in a letter to Ludo that I would not take orders from you, and that is correct. Another take it or leave it.

When I refused to accept Stella on those conditions she opted instead for a holiday by Lake Como with George Clooney (click here for more details) and later sent me this note: 

16th October 2010: So,Bertie, Your trip wasn't quite the smash you had hoped for, eh? Even though you didn't get a lot of studying in, most everyone had fun! Even me, of course I wasn't with you! I am not much for apologizing, Bertie, because its easier to treat people well than to wind up having to offer an apology. So lets just say for this time, Let Bygones be Bygones. One caveat, Bertie, I always mean what I say, always.

Fortunately, over the years, the rift has healed, although Stella still tries to keep  me in line, as you can see from this comment when I blogged about being distracted by girls at agility:

3rd October 2012: Of course its all very clear to all of us: You want to chase the girls (especially that cute little Bijon) and have your usual fun with them. Not gonna work here, Bertie, gonna have to knuckle down and get busy with your agility skills. Go, Bertie, Go!

I've noticed Stella is always envious of my trips by train to see HGD: 

19th November 2013: We are not even allowed to ride the city bus, even if we have the fare! It all seems wrong on so many levels. Give HGD a smooch from all of us!

But she was not at all sympathetic earlier this month when Gail wanted to wash me in a cold Scottish stream...

Oh Bertie, you always have some little something to complain about. . ..man up and give those feeties a quick dunk!

Well, by now I think my readers will have got the measure of my friend Stella (and her Mom Jo). 

Stella dear, Gail and I absolutely adore you, we treasure every single one of your comments, and we hope you will be giving me a piece of your mind for many years to come! 

Sad news from the Oilman

I have some very sad news to tell you this morning. 

You remember a couple of weeks ago when Gail and I went for a windy walk with her friend the Oilman and his Westie Lucy and we left Lucy's companion Florrie, also a Westie, at home? Well, although thirteen year old Florrie was no longer up to hillwalking, she seemed that day to be quite well and still enjoying life. But Oilman has now reported that dear Florrie passed away peacefully last Tuesday.

Florrie in her prime

Florrie was a frequent walking companion of my predecessor Hamish the Westie, and they stayed with each other a few times as well. Florrie and Lucy had recently been living in Guernsey while Oilman was away in Yemen and their thrilling trip back to Scotland by private plane was described on my blog last year. 

Although we will all miss Florrie, I do hope that her best friend Lucy will continue to be one of my walking girlfriends for a long time to come.

PS from Gail: I am remembering, with fond sadness, the first meeting between Hamish, then four years old, and brand new puppy Florrie. I never saw Hamish run away so fast as when wee Florrie attempted to latch on to him as her missing mother substitute. Hamish most definitely did not want to know... Fortunately, over the course of many enjoyable adventures in the hills of Aberdeenshire and beyond, a degree of mutual tolerance and respect was established.

Five years of blogging

Hi, this is Gail here, taking over Bertie's blog for the day.

As anyone who knows me well will tell you, I am the world's worst at remembering and celebrating birthdays, anniversaries etc.

But it's an incredible five years to this day that I published my first blog post in the voice of Hamish, my late, dear Westie and even I thought that this date was worth noting.

It all started off as an antidote to writing up my PhD thesis, which required a tediously dry scientific style. My initial goal was to post on the blog a minimum of once a week.

For six months Hamish and I happily blogged away to almost zero readership.Then I put the blog URL on the then 'Dogs with Blogs' website, and started to gain a wider following after Hamish received a favourable shout out from Jo and Stella in Minnesota, to whom I shall always be grateful. Shortly afterwards I submitted my thesis.

Hamish's blog ran for the last eighteen months of his life. There was a 'Between Dogs Blog' for a predictably short period until Bertie bounced onto the scene. Hamish was my first dog, Bertie my first puppy.

If you are a regular reader of this blog you'll already know what fun it is being part of the amazing, warm and caring dog blogging community. Perhaps I've been lucky, and perhaps I shouldn't tempt fate, but I can honestly say that in five years I have never ever received a negative or unpleasant comment. There have been over 7800 comments on Bertie's blog to date (spam excluded) and  I would like to thank our wonderful readers for every single one of them.

I wonder if you can guess the title of the post which has attracted the most page views for Bertie?

The winner by far is 'The Higgs' Boson Diet Plan', with, as of today, nearly 1500 views. Clearly, putting the both the words 'Higgs' boson' and 'diet' in a blog title guarantees notice, although I suspect that few of these page viewers were dog bloggers, who, as we know, favour stories about the misdemeanours of other folks' darling pups.

Which are my favourite ever blog posts?

It has to be the two posts about the 'scones and lace tablecloth' episode. Initially related on Hamish's blog, and later re-enacted by Bertie, if you missed these first time around, you can read them here:

Hamish tells the story
Bertie stages a re-enactment

My aims for my blog posts have been pretty constant throughout - each one should be well written and be fun to write, should entertain, and should offer readers something that goes beyond just "here are some more cute pictures of my dog".

As for the future?

I plan to carry on for as long as I'm enjoying writing and Bertie continues to provide me with plenty of subject material.

Based on his adventures in the past fortnight, I think we'll be going for some time yet!

A SPANIEL called Hamish!!??

Yes really!

Today in the park I met this spaniel puppy. I was trying to play with him in my customary boisterous fashion, when Gail and I heard his owners calling "Hamish! HAMISH! HAMISH!"

I can't tell you how shocked we were.

Did they not know that in these parts, the distinguished name of Hamish (pronounced Hay-mish, in case you were wondering) is reserved for certain breeds of terrier? I think there is a law enacted by the Scottish parliament or something.

You will be acquainted with, or at least have heard of, my predecessor Hamish the Westie. You may not be aware that roughly 50% of the Westies in Aberdeen - and there are a lot of Westies in Aberdeen - are called Hamish. A fair few Scotties share the name, and we believe that it is permissible for Jack Russells too.

But a SPANIEL?

Oh, Gail has an explanation.

She says she thinks that spaniel Hamish was a 'wannabee Westie', already, in refusing to respond to his name being called, demonstrating mastery of the key breed trait of extreme stubbornness.

I am now wondering if any of my canine readers have names that are stereotypical for their breed? Or indeed inappropriate? Perhaps you can tell me what are the common names in your part of the world, and if they are associated with particular breeds or types of dog?

And while you are thinking about that, I'll show you some random pictures from my recent explorings in Aberdeen and surrounding areas. You will see our weather has been uncommonly nice just lately (but I'm afraid Gail failed to get a photo of spaniel Hamish.)

Admiring the late summer flowers in Seaton Park

Sunny Sunday afternoon on Aberdeen city beach

Aberdeen University - the new library building

Aberdeen University - Old King's College

King of Corgarff Castle near Strathdon

Back on home territory in Duthie Park

Observing the model boats in the Duthie Park pond

And enquiring of the owners whether they are not a bit old for this sort of thing....

A re-enactment of Hamish's finest hour...

Oh I am so excited 'cos I am shortly to take part in Jazzi's Back to School Bash 'Table Snatching 101' class.

Now Gail is a stickler for doing one's homework, and has been most anxious that I go to school well prepared.

In fact she decided to give me some extra tuition, by staging a re-enactment the famous incident involving my predecessor Hamish the Westie, some scones baked by Human Granny, and HGY's best white Nottingham lace table cloth.

I am a diligent student, as you know, and this is what I learned about the art of table snatching from observing this highly instructive re-enactment.

1. It is important to lull the humans into a false sense of security, having them believe you are fast asleep in your favourite chair. Pretend to be unaware that on a nearby table lies a plateful of scones, generously spread with jam and cream, ready for when the neighbours come round for tea.


2. When you are sure no-one is looking, have a quick recce, to check that the prize is worth the effort.


3. Agility training will come in handy when you need to make the final leap up onto the table.

4. And when you've reached your target, it is important to remember that half measures are pointless.


5. You might as well just make a meal of it.



The only thing missing from this re-enactment is a shot of Human Granny's horrified face when she discovered the fate of her precious scones (and tablecloth). Apparently it looked something like this:

I can't wait for the new school year to start.

Inscrutable? (And thank you Jill)

You know I felt quite hurt the other day when I overheard Gail saying to a friend that she doesn't think I have nearly such an expressive face as Hamish did.

Then I thought about it a bit more and decided  I must be mysterious and inscrutable, and that is altogether preferable, isn't it?

But now Gail is laughing as she types this for me, and saying "Bertie, you are about as inscrutable as Gwyneth Paltrow on Oscar night" and explaining what she meant is that I communicate my emotions using my whole body, and do it very effectively.

Well I hope that you can see my delight here at receiving a positive response to my recent request for promotion.

Oh I am just thrilled to bits with this letter I received from the Volunteer Coordinator Jill at the VisitWoods project, which arrived a few days ago, along with a most prestigious certificate. (You will want to click on the images to biggify them so that you can read them properly, I'm sure.)

Jill has now moved on to bigger and better things at the Woodland Trust, and I think I speak for all my fellow volunteers when I say that she has done an absolutely magnificent job for VisitWoods Scotland, we loved working with her and wish her all the best in her new role as People Engagement Officer. I am certain that the Woodland Trust have made the perfect choice and will benefit greatly from her enthusiasm, energy, organisational ability and lovely manner. What a super lady. Here she is in action:

So now it's time for me to go and check out a new wood!

Hand-me-downs and duck tape

Maybe some of you out there in the wider world are not aware of Aberdeen's reputation in Scotland.

Whereas in England they make jokes about all Scots being too careful with the pennies, north of the border, stinginess is a trait attributed in particular to the Aberdonians.

No dog would want a tight-fisted owner would they? I remember being a bit nervous when I was a tiny wee pup and was told I'd be going to live in the 'Granite City'. Would I ever be bought treats, I wondered? My mind was set at rest when I learned that my owner Gail was a migrant from England, presumably free from any genetic tendency to excessive frugality.

Events this week have forced me to conclude that environment trumps DNA.

Do you remember I mentioned in my last post that I was thinking of requesting a raincoat for Christmas?

No soon as I'd pressed the 'publish post' button, than Gail came bounding downstairs brandishing this...

...and saying "Bertie there's no need at all to go writing letters to Lapland. I have just the thing for you. Look, I bought this lovely red jacket for your predecessor Hamish two Christmases ago, but he only lived a few weeks after that so it's as good as new!"

Leaving aside the questionable taste issue of wearing a dead dog's clothes, I expect you, like me, have spotted another big flaw in Gail's proposal.

She can't possibly imagine that I'm going to parade around Aberdeen with 'Hamish' embroidered across my back, can she? (Fine old chap though I'm sure he was.)

My friends would be most confused, and might accuse me of disrespect.

"Oh but I've thought of that Bertie," said Gail, always the clever clogs. "I've been reading all about different uses of duck tape on Frankie Furter's blog this week and it gave me an idea".

Frankie, you might be Mayor of Blogville but you have much to answer for.

Can you believe anyone could be so cheap?

I am pleased to report that the story has a happy ending. I am at the skinnier end of the WFT spectrum, whereas those of you who knew Hamish will remember him as a solid, sturdy Westie.

So it turns out that the jacket is totally the wrong shape for me, especially around the neck area. And I know full well that Gail is useless at needlework so I think I'm safe after all.

Can anyone recommend a WFT shaped coat? Stylish, hardwearing and waterproof, please.

PS. For the post in which Hamish proudly modelled his new red jacket click here.

Haar haar - not funny...

Gail and I have been debating the merits of a well known aspect of summer weather in Aberdeen.

I guess if you want to make something sound better than it is you give it a fancy name. You know, like bin men being environmental hygiene operatives....

So people in the east of Scotland have a special word for coastal fog. The call it 'haar'. 

We had a bad dose of haar when we took our visitors to Dunnottar Castle last week. 

Gail was going on about it all being so atmospheric, the ruined grey stone buildings looming in the swirling mists. 

But I think you can tell that the boys weren't too impressed.

And small wonder. You might remember I went there as a young pup with Gail's friend Helen. On a sunny day.

And Hamish too enjoyed fine weather for his visit. (Click here for his full report).

But talking of mists, oh deary me, Gail is getting all misty eyed looking at those pictures of Hamish. I'd better stop right now, and go and give her a lick and a cuddle.

My Dog Tulip: the verdict

So Gail came back from the cinema with her friends Yvonne and Neil (that's Jake Flat-Coated Retriever's parents) and they opened a bottle of wine. I cuddled up on the sofa and eavesdropped:

"Well I think I was right in suspecting that that film would only appeal to someone who's lived with dogs."

"No really, they did seem just to concentrate on all the most unpleasant aspects of dog ownership."

"And wasn't Tulip's owner Joe horrid and selfish? I think his obsession with 'marrying' his Alsatian said more about his own personal frustrations perhaps."

"Well it's the only film I've seen showing a dog scooting across the carpet, followed by a graphic account of treatment for anal gland problems. You have to be impressed with that."

"I couldn't help but smile at the bit where he's carefully describing how Tulip's posture is different for a 'properly evacuating' pee and a 'marking' pee."

"Yes I never realised that there was a difference for bitches too."

"You know, I thought of Hamish so many times. The way the dog barked when the sister went into the owner's private room. Remember how Hamish used to do just that when anyone but me sat on this sofa? Bertie doesn't seem to mind, so far at least. Then there was the problem with attacking the vet, just like with Hamish, we had to resort to a muzzle. Oh and Hamish was never too successful with the lady dogs either."

"Now when was that film set? The 1950's? Clearly before the invention of poo bags. When did people start using poo bags by the way? I remember when I was a child you were supposed to train the dog to 'go' in the gutter."

"And what about that scene where Tulip has diarrhoea in the bedroom of the friend's house? And Joe tries to mop it up with the newspaper." 

"What do you think is worse to clear up? Diarrhoea or sick?"

"Oh diarrhoea, definitely. Do have another glass of wine."

"No I think vomit. Oh, thanks, just a small one then."

"But wasn't it sad when Tulip had the puppies and they were all given away to just anybody."

"Well I'd kind of lost interest by then. Did it really hold your attention all the way through Gail?"

"Well it did, kind of. It was a fascinated horror at times, admittedly. And maybe I identified with the 'single person and dog' relationship theme. Although I won't exactly be recommending the film to too many other friends."

"I did at least think the art work was beautiful."

"Yes. And I loved the music."

"Me too. Oh well, it's getting late. We better go back across the road and check that Jakey's OK."

"Well goodnight then. Thanks for coming along. Perhaps you should choose the film next time! Wake up Bertie! Time for your pre-bedtime trot round the block."

In reflective mood

Oh I can't quite think how to begin.  I am going to be one year old on Friday, and I am hoping for some nice presents!  But it will also be sad day for Gail, as the night I was born is the same night that she lost her beloved Westie, Hamish, her first ever dog.

I never met Hamish, but I feel I know him well. And what I really want to say here is a big and affectionately bouncy thank you to the fine old fellow.

You see, I have come to realise that Hamish taught Gail many things, and it's partly down to Hamish that my first year has been such a happy one.

Above all else, Hamish taught Gail to appreciate that a dog is not a blank slate. We dogs arrive on this earth each with our own unique personalities and traits. We are not mere putty to be moulded into whatever shape our human fancies.

For example, Hamish, I'm told, was not one to be hurried when out on walks (British understatement here!) He liked to stop and sniff. Everything.  For him, a walk that was just a 'route march'  was no kind of fun at all, even in the days when he was young and fit and could have ran all day if he chose.  At first, Gail thought "This is no good, I like energetic walks, I don't want to be stopping all the time. Come on Hamish, hurry up!"  But soon enough she realised, that was just not Hamish's way.  So she thought a little more and decided to buy a wild flower book.  Before Hamish came on the scene, she had always been too impatient to stop and identify the plants as she strode onwards in determined fashion.  But through him she discovered the joy of pausing to consider and delight in nature's glories. And Hamish always had plenty sniffing time, and was content too.

Now I am here, a joyous, wilful and insistent presence, an alogether different character from Hamish.  Less about sniffing, more about bouncing.  And I am so fortunate 'cos Gail has learned to let me be me too, and if what I want to do is bounce, then ways will be found for me to bounce, and bounce again, for as long as my legs have springs!

Thank you again, dear and most treasured Hamish.

(A report on my experiences at agility class is coming soon...)

Climb every mountain?

Come on Gail! Oh come on, over here, COME ON, COME ON!!!

Look outside the window! All the snow is gone. It doesn't even feel cold. It must be nearly Spring.

And don't imagine I've forgotten what you promised last year. You absolutely promised that come Spring I would be allowed to climb a Munro.

[Readers, you know what a Munro is? A Scottish peak over 3000 ft high. There are 283 of them.  Between you and me, it's my ambition to 'bag' every single one, like boxer dog Kerry did a couple of years ago.]

So Gail, look, I've even found this book on your shelves. Called, yes you've guessed it, 'The Munros: The Scottish Mountaineering Club Hillwalkers Guide'.



Now what do I see here, scribbled this inside the book? A list? In your handwriting, Gail, if I'm not mistaken?

Lochnagar
Mount Keen
Beinn Alligin
Slioch
Sgor Gaoith
Stob Choire Claurigh
Stob Coire an Laoigh
Stob Coire Easain

Oh, is that so? Seriously? You're telling me that my predecessor Hamish the Westie in his younger days climbed each of those peaks on your list. All the way up to the top and him with such little legs?

Wow!



So these Munros would be, like, no problem at all for an eager, fit and bouncy chap like me, eh?

What do you mean a fine line between 'bounciness' and 'recklessness' Gail? Oh, you're just saying that for the first time, perhaps we should try a nicely rounded Munro, not one of the one with jaggy edges and precipitous drops.

[I guess Gail is frightened of heights but doesn't want to admit it. I'll have to humour her for now.]

Well OK then. How about Ben Macdui? Looks good eh? Scotland's second highest mountain. Dramatic and imposing, yet suitably curvaceous...

Yes, that's the one for sure. What are we waiting for?

COME ON! 

Oh what is it now?  Must we really wait for longer days too?

Sigh.....

And now I am getting a lecture from Gail who has reached for another of her books* and is reading aloud from it:

'Beginners, not unnaturally...want the startling view, the horrid pinnacle - sips of beer and tea instead of milk. Yet often the mountain gives itself most completely when I have no destination, when I reach nowhere in particular, but have gone out merely to be with the mountain as one visits a friend with no intention but to be with him.'

All well and good Gail. BUT I STILL WANT TO BAG MY FIRST MUNRO!


*'The Living Mountain' by Nan Shepherd.