but we were no match for Chester who, despite his lack of stamina was able to cover ground a lot faster than yours truly loaded like a pack horse with little t, waterproofs and picnic. After over an hour traversing the ridge we didn't see hide nor hair of the missing shitland.
Rocky reloaded with drool fuel and we set off home to carry on with the jobs list.
1 comment:
"yours truly loaded like a pack horse with little t, waterproofs and picnic"
Hmmm, bit worrying that two legged fat bloke hasn't figured out the phrase "pack horse"!! OK, you may not want to entrust the hoss with young T, but surely the manufacture of a couple of saddle bags is not beyond the skills of a smallholder of your calibre??
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