Gartmoanin

There's no pleasing some folk sometimes.

You get them all kitted out for a picnic - two cans of Irn-Bru, packet of sweets each, mobile phone, hoody and an umbrella (it's summer remember) and all they do is moan. Granted, it was chucking it down again outside and the attendant in the visitor centre here did suggest some chest high waders might be more suitable for a walk around Gartmorn Dam today.

Still, the coffee was good and we were entertained by a fairly tame squirrel playing with his nuts whilst we waited for the rain to go off. And Euan did find out about a young boy who had worked 10 hours a day down one of the nearby mines for two years by the time he was his age, with the hope this would convince him that having to take the bins out now and again and keep his room tidy wasn't as much a hardship as he normally made out. It didn't.

Walk postponed, back home to make a nice curry instead.