I think Covid restrictions were getting to me.  The PC had been disconnected and stored below the desk as I waited for better days.  On reflection it was probably a mistake trying to write about the great outdoors while cooped up in a region about 17km by 17km with no significant wilderness to speak of.  Trying to escape the presence of another 150,000+ other souls stuck in the same locale also proved to be a thankless task.  My normal version of social distancing tends to be far more extreme than current restrictions – something I had practised quite successfully until the onset of Coronavirus.  But enough of my sociopathic tendencies.  It’s time to reconnect the cabling, press the ON button, and produce reams of interminable ramblings.  Welcome back, yet again, to “Where the Fatdog Walks”.

Outside the window I’m watching occasional flurries of snow build, then vanish as if they’d never happened.  We had a “dump” of the white stuff overnight but luckily it only built up to about 150mm max.  It’s a novelty in this part of Scotland so anarchy reigns here every time it appears in any quantity.  With snow very much in mind I thought I would once again dig into the back catalogue and rework another of my favourite hill days – the day myself, Cap’n Jack and the Fatdog tackled the Corbett, Mam na Gualainn, above Loch Leven.  Snow, sunshine and amazing views – what could be better.  It was February 2010 – it was bloody cold!