Saturday, 12 September 2009

A real beastie, dear

30 miles of perineum (search it) pounding. Around a Loch, past Callander through to the village of Strathyre and back. Deep thigh burn. On return, a couple of sausage sandwiches on a disposable barbecue over looking the Loch. The one with leek in was a sure-fire mistake. Every now and then a wee gurgle brings the unmistakable taste to the buds. Ah well, 'beggars cannae be choosers', 'better a small fish than an empty dish'.

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