Torridon Unravelled

Once more the Fates conspire.

“B******s!”

On Monday night the Legs declared that Torridon was off.  A petition was handed in to the Brain demanding the immediate cancelation  of any plans that involved, or might involve, the ascent of anything greater than a worm caste.  Faced with no other obvious method of reaching the summits already pencilled in for the weekend, the Brain conceded defeat and pulled the plug on the Youth Hostel Booking.   Mr.P will now be cooking his own dinner.

On the Monday morning The Fatdog and I had gone to Plean Country Park to forage for ingredients for the Friday night Hostel dinner.

 

Mushroom Risotto - anyone?