One minute I was on a Scottish mountain contemplating how despite the rains best efforts it was really quite a nice place to be. Then suddenly the peace was broken.
There’s nothing quite like a man dressed in army style camouflage, complete with balaclava and shotgun, coming towards you on a quadbike, at speed, to break up the solitude and serenity of your spot on the mountain.
I was tempted to run for my life, whilst in a state of confusion over how I had come across a wormhole that had taken to me to a different time and place. Having passed no signs that said ‘Keep Out! You Are About To Enter A Militarised Zone’ I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how I had ended up in the 1970s and had come across an IRA stronghold whilst walking up Ben Lawer on a very wet Sunday in the year 2007. ‘Act normal’ I was telling myself while my deeper instincts were to drop to my knees and pray. Surprisingly I didn’t ask God to save me one last time, instead I heard myself say “Afternoon!”
Afternoon? WTF? I know I was brought up to be polite but that was neither the time nor place for general courtesies, not when some nutter with a shotgun is approaching on a quad bike and there are no witnesses around. And yet apparently it was, instead of stopping and taking aim, he drove past and muffled (the balaclava was still worn) an “Afternoon” in my general direction.
I’m guessing he was off to cull dear or something. At times having an overactive imagination can make you feel mighty silly.