BST #

28 March 1999

The changing clocks weren’t gonna catch us out this time. We had everything figured out for once. At about 19:30 on the Saturday evening, the three of us adjusted our watches forward by sixty minutes. This way, we cut out an hour of drinking, not an hour of sleeping. This didn’t bother me too much, as although the pub served good food and Guinness, there was a karaoke night in full swing. Karaoke scares me shitless, I live in fear of being forced to sing in front of others, especially drunken Scots.

There was also a paucity of totty in the bar; only one late-teenage girl caught our collective eye - a sweet-looking blonde Glaswegian with a Kookai bag and a full-length coat which seemed to give her an aura of maturity beyond her years. But she was surrounded by mad-looking blokes, so we left relatively sober at around 23:30 “our time”.

Sunday brought shite weather of the highest order. We’d certainly made the right decision to climb Buachaille Etive Mor on the Saturday. The bunkhouse restaurant appeared to be oblivious to the clocks changing, so we wandered up to a Little Chef for some brekky. I was pleasantly surprised - maybe Little Chefs have improved vastly since last I visited one, or perhaps my mental image of them has been influenced by a thousand stand-up comedians’ bad jokes over recent years, but I really enjoyed the food, and the service was speedy. Didn’t make the weather any better, though, and the thought of traipsing up Ben Oss really didn’t appeal. I’ve never been happier than when Brucey caved, and suggested we headed back to Edinburgh for a scramble up Arthur’s Seat instead. The relief on my face was palpable, causing Brucey and Richy to laugh. But then, they know I’m a lazy git.

Arthur’s seat was fun, a good bit of scrambling made more interesting by the squally winds battering us incessantly. We admired what little view there was until the wind began to blow dust and grit in our eyes, at which point we decided to descend.

And that was that. Another transient visit to Edinburgh, another quick weekend dash to Scotland, brought to an end. Fortunately I’d been sensible this time, and booked the Monday off to recover…