Panoramic picture of a bunch of revellers

Brief Encounter

One of the things I enjoyed of late was playing my friend John off the hill on his last Munro. I’d promised to play him to the summit about 5 years ago but my debauched lifestyle and close personal relationship with pies ruled that out as an option.

Stuc an Lochain

Hazel Tenor and I had bummed a lift with The Dickies (not the 70’s punk band) and let Graeme navigate the goat tracks and cattle grids that lead to Stuc an Lochain while we admired the increasingly alarming and precipitous scenery. It was a pleasure to play as various people in differing stages of weariness arrived at the bottom of the hill; some looked as if they had just started and some looked like the mere mention of the word, “mountain”, would send them into raging fits of extended profanity. Apparently my sloppy frozen fingered embellishments and crossing noises could be heard up to 400 metres and stiffened the sinews of those with the bodies least suited to the lifestyle and helped them home.

Not the 70’s Punk Rock Band

Social Event

The committee had decreed that an evening of Social Interaction should be arranged, that singing and dancing would be rigidly enforced and that James the Hat was to behave himself. This was to be the first of the year, a sort of warm up to the main event the following day, Easter Sunday. As usual we have to thank Kilbarchan Scouts for the use of their hall and disco, especially The Janny.

The evening began quietly with a grand entry march of the massed cans and bottles, weans were dispatched for ice and older heads settled in for a session while the more vivacious element played party games for Big Prizes (A chocolate egg is a big deal when your eleven). I was on my best behaviour having promised to attend an Easter Morning service at 8:30 and then help the Church eat rolls n sausage. James the Hat had been getting into the Easter spirit by having his flesh pierced by sharp objects, not Roman nails in the hands but tree branches in the face. He sterilised the wound with whisky from the inside.

The party was just about to get into high gear, I was dancing, the Duke was singing and the clock struck eleven and we had to throw out the anchor and start tidying up. The whole thing was over and dusted by midnight and everyone went home. So how did I end up with a house full of revellers, including a misbehaving man in a hat.

I made the service, ate the sausage and had a fine Easter. However the outdoor season looms and it’s only a couple of weeks to Gourock. I have drapped myself as I’ve not been able to get to practice due to work commitments and I’m not match fit. Anyone looking for me I’ll be in the beer tent buying Abbi a pint.

Cannae wait..

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