Being basically non-tannable, my watch-hand now goes pink-white-pink following a marvellous Saturday tramping along the length of the Malvern Hills (random link). The weather was uncharacteristically not pissing down, the hills spectacular and the exercise bracing.
I was with three blokes I hadn't seen for a long while. You may know the sort of thing. Not so much Last of the Summer Wine as the Middle Bit of the Summer Beer. Oh yes, plenty of beer, curry and rude male bandinage. (Forget "Men are from mars", the more essential definition is, at least if we are not required to defend anything, Women are from Venus, Men are Fifteen. Still, what do you expect?) On grounds of by-virtue-of-residence Welshness I refused point blank to wear the "team" shirt, so I must have looked like their manager.
Photos imminent - the usual things: screwy trees, odd constructions, holes in stuff. Oh, and hills.