With the rare appearance of the Club Secretary (or perhaps a hologram thereof), the return from St Lucia of Sarah B, and the addition of the newly elevated Dr Piercey to our ranks, it was a distinctly superior gathering that set out from Hagg Farm lay-by (Blackden having been deemed a little too wild). Cap'n Harmer had clearly anticipated the need to stand on ceremony, sporting a shiny new waterproof from Decathalon (a disturbing sight indeed), so all that was missing was the still globetrotting Dave Bollinger and his top of the range Hagloff jacket. May be next week, eh Dave?
But I digress. The route from the lay-by took us up to Crookstone Knoll, via a foot deep pile of slurry (thanks for that, Big Bob), and some slushy white stuff which passed, I suppose, for snow. Graham-the-weatherman Berry was naturally delighted, whilst the rest of us shuffled onward into a stiffish wind, before descending rather more swiftly to the Cap'n's favourite alternative AGM venue - quite a fine little quarry below Nether Moor, it must be admitted. Disappointingly, the Secretary seemed reticent to declare the meeting quorate, notwithstanding the presence of seventeen other warts (at least three club officials included), so we were unable to carry a motion of no confidence in the still absent Chairman Woe (once more, it was alleged, bearing the chains of office a little too heavily at the Sportsman).
Sometime thereafter the moon came out, the wind didn't drop much, and we returned to our vehicles via a brief climb on t'other side of the A57 - all details you can probably survive without. And as for the route of the 'New' Landmarks race next week, well this drew some considerable interest in the pub afterwards - much more interest indeed than it, in the end, warranted. For all those absent friends, well you'll just have to wait and hear it from the horse's mouth next Wednesday. See you all there, for the annual pilgrimage to Trooper Hawley's t-shirt.
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