10:21 p.m. - 2006-05-08
Anyfuckinghoo. The story -
One of those boring thursdays in the office of shattered dreams, where despair hangs in the air like bad perfume. Someone suggested that we go and walk up Cross Fell on saturday and stay overnight in the bothy near the top (Greg's hut, as it's known). Okey dokey then, I'm a drop of a hat man for this sort of lark. So let's fast fwrd to saturday.
*jbison - A bloke. (Modesty forbids listing his many talents and accomplishments.)
*ohn - A bloke. 'Ray Mears' type wilderness nut. Could light a fire underwater, make a survival shelter out of a handful of sheep droppings. Splendid chap. Colleague of *jbison.
*ichael - A bloke. Cocky little chap. Violence-obsessed martial arts whizzkid. Should be an arsehole, but is actually a truly sound geezer. Colleague of *jbison.
*ianne - A lady. Looks a bit like Patsy Kensit. Highly regarded Psych expert - she can stamp "LOONY" on your file (didn't know you had a file? paranoid?).
*atthew - A young whippersnapper. Son of *ianne. Reluctant to carry heavy packs.
This ain't finished yet. :)