Head For The Hills

I went on a road trip to Edinburgh today for lunch. This is a trip that would usually take seven or eight hours so regardless of how nice the steak sandwich was and how pleasant the company was this is a thing that would be beyond the reach of my 1.25l Bad Boy.

But as I'm currently resident in Mrs Mac's gaff in Strathaven it was a mere skip and jump down the motorway and into Scotland's capital city. I considered donning a false beard and slouch hat to avoid ex-mother-in-law (no.3) but then realised she's dahn Sarf so I was free to Lord it down Princes Street and into St Andrews Square without fear of being flailed to death with a besom.

I was early so a swift double espresso was the order of the day. I'd have preferred a moccachino with double cream but any contact with dairy produce causes an unpleasant reaction that would cause Gillian McKeith to hoot like a scabby old owl and require an industrial cleaning company rigged in chemical protection suits to enter the sealed off public loos in St Andrews Square tasked with a multi-million pound bio-hazard operation.

Before long Keith 'Corned Beef' Hughes was in attendance, dapper in his suit, followed by Neil Ambrose and Carolyn King, Ian Beattie, Murdo McEwan, Ian King and Stan Bland. A proper meeting of West Highland Way Race Family veterans and newbies and a very pleasant lunch ensued; an examination of the ubiquitous Harvey's WHW map was undertaken; and the imbibing of water took place........yes, water. But not by yours truly, Dear Reader. I have found it impossible to desist in the consumption of caffeine or alcohol as race preparation and have decided it would actually be harmful for me to do so. Here's why:

The avoidance of caffeine would have prevented the guzzling of two cans of Red Bull and the necking of four Proplus tablets on Sunday possibly causing me to crash the Caledonian Challenge support car. Not a good day out. Better to suffer the heady effects of a massive and sustained intake of caffeine in all it's forms.

The avoidance of alcohol will prevent me from celebrating Mrs Mac's new job this evening possibly causing her to lose her rag and whup my sorry arse with some Jap Slapping karate moves. Not a good day out either. Better to suffer the intoxicating effects of some Chateauneuf Du Pape possibly followed by a pint or two of Arthur's Black Gold.

Anyway, this will be my last post before the West Highland Way Race as I'm off to Fort Bill tomorrow to await the arrival of my support crew. That's the band of crazies that masquerade as humble citizens of London and they'll be heading north tomorrow. I've tried before but am unable to control them. My God!! The BBC are gonna be in attendance! Head for the hills my friends.

In their honour I've posted something musically appropriate.

The Meteors, Get Off of My Cloud. Be afraid, very afraid.