Where The Fatdog Walks

The battery of The Tank spluttered and coughed it’s last. The AA man arrived, checked it’s pulse, then pronounced it well and truly dead.  He did, however, toss a few chicken bones and cast a few spells which allowed it’s temporary resurrection, enough to make it as far as my friend John’s garage near the [...]

Today’s little leg stretch kicked off from where Quintus Lollius Urbicus, on behalf of his emperor Titus Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, began his futile attempts to keep the Scots out of Europe.  Little did he know that they were quite capable of doing that on their own without the help of the Romans, UEFA, [...]

I would be the first to admit our list of conquered hills for the months of April and May is not particularly impressive. We’ve conquered our old favourite the Meikle Bin (missing out on a possible big cat encounter if reports are to be believed) . We’ve accidentally bagged the viewpoint that is Moncreiffe Hill. [...]

It was a sad looking exhibition. Our reputation, built through hard (ahem) days on the Scottish mountains, was in danger of collapse.  As we stumbled out the car we took stock of our individual infirmities. My legs were goosed, totally!  The right leg ached from bum to toe, the sciatic nerve plucking the various muscles [...]