Welcome back folks.  I hope all of you are still keeping healthy.  Myself,  J and the two hairy reprobates seem to have adjusted to life under lockdown and have lapsed into a relaxed daily routine.  Life nowadays seems to revolve around waiting for deliveries – whether it’s groceries, Lego, dog food, gardening ‘stuff’; virtually anything you can have dropped off at the house.  As far as today’s blog post goes I had been going to write about last year’s solitary hill adventure but other “stuff” got in the way.  Such as…

With a nod to the blog of old I thought I would kick off this year’s re-boot by heading back to its hillwalking roots. Some of you will be very familiar with the website http://www.hill-bagging.co.uk/ . I have to admit to having spent hours there over the years looking for hills to climb. More recently I noticed classes of hills that I hadn’t been aware of in the past. Some of these classes take account of hills so small I suspect a number of them may only be bumps in the middle of a farmer’s field. There are those who might say this is categorising things to silly extremes. Me, I am not proud and thought it might be a good wheeze to visit a few and produce long winded accounts of their ascent detailing exaggerated (slightly, of course) levels of exhaustion and cliffhanging suspense.

Then that sodding virus appeared.

Yesterday morning a visit to our local mini supermarket brought on, what was for me, a truly emotional moment. In my head I could almost hear the massed Scottish support at Murrayfield Stadium blasting out “Flower of Scotland” as I stared in disbelief at the empty shelf where the porridge oats would normally reside. On the other hand I was extremely pissed off given I am there every week to buy a pack from an always full shelf. Most visits I have to be careful not to have packets crashing down on top of me given I am almost certain that I am the only person in the area who normally buys the sodding things.