Nothing (much) To Report

Oh yes, this is quite an innocent story that started out so well with good intentions but ended in peril.

We didn't really give our new years resolutions a chance to get off the ground, as by the time we'd got our act together all the evening classes of pretty much everything had already started. Shame on us.

Anyway, not put off by this, we decided to "go and get fit" up Robinswood Hill this weekend. It's a smashing place to go, and thankfully the pole thingy on the top was not a mobile phone mast, as we were debating on the way up (it was some jubilee beacon, for those interested).

So, sturdy boots applied in the car park we set off and immediately get distracted by a boomerang stuck in a bush and tried to rescue it. Unsuccessfully. We decided that we needed a big stick to poke at it if we were to stand any chance of getting at it without having our eyes ripped out by thorns.

Meanwhile, we then had a choice of paths to take to the summit; some more robust that others. We democratically came to the conclusion that it might be best to stick to the man-made path and christened it the Ray Mears path. Failure to stick to this path might lead to having to live on Robinswood Hill and eat worms (after Whale's supply of mints and my packet of Frosties had run out).

It was a lovely day and the views across Gloucester got better and better the higher up (and further away from the chavvyness) we got. We got completely flummoxed by a backwards-stylee kissing gate and were very glad that nobody saw us wrestling with it before realising it had to go t'other way. D'oh. After that, it was just a short climb to the top and we were rewarded with panoramic views as far as The Malverns and beyond. A short debate about where the M5 was later, and we decided to make our descent.

This was where it got tricky. It may have been a lovely day outside, but the paths were just pure mud. You could see in the tracks all the people who'd slipped on their arse previously and we resigned ourselves to the fact that it might happen. And it did. Stupidly enough, it wasn't in any of the steep areas - just a flat-ish bit where we'd got complacent. (I say we, but I managed to remain on my feet - a fact Whale shook her fist at me about) But you had to laugh, especially when she realised she'd put her hand down in some rabbit poo. Oh deary dear.

I had to make her sit on my coat when we'd got back to the car as she was pretty much plastered in mud. The option of going straight to the pub was diminishing, as I think Café Rene wouldn't appreciate us shedding mud all over their carpet afternoon/evening. By the time we got to the pub, we'd worked up quite a thirst and were ready for some Black Rat - probably undoing all the good that we'd done. But meh.