All sorts

One meets all sorts on a hike like this. On the very first day Vic's b&b lady accused him of taking her glasses while she fumble with the knobs (radiator that is). 

Coming down Hells Crag yesterday this demento guy (with subservient woman in tow) first words to me were "is there a cairn on top", so much for 'hello, how are you.'

The American at the dinner table yesterday named two of her guests and identified the fourth only as 'her partner'. Lesbians may be cool but they can be as moronic as rest of us. 

One of the Canadian women who arrived late in was practically in tears having got lost in Ravens Gully apparently following Wainwrights alternative route. Most likely she never heard of Alfred Wainwright till recently and now he is making her life miserable, a good achievement for a dead guy.