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Well, news travels fast! Here I was in West Linton with the Pipe Band playing me out of town to a cheering crowd. I wish! No, I'd arrived on the morning of the "West Linton Festival" a day unfortunately dawning grey and drizzly.
Originally planning to stick to the River Tweed, I decided instead to take the old "Drovers Road across the hills. It was well signposted and with a more direct route, I should have made good progress. Unfortunately not, as I climbed higher, the weather deteriorated, and somehow, head down against the driving rain I missed a signpost.
To spend the next hour in a huge forest, knowing I was going round in circles, was getting to the scary "will I ever see my family again" point. Confused and disorientated the only way forward was to go backwards. Clambering through the bracken, I eventually backtracked to the point where I'd taken the wrong turning.
From there on, it was easypeasy all the way back to Peebles. Easy, but grim. Soaked to the skin, all I could think of was the hot bath I'd sink into when I finally got there.
It was only after I was warm, safe and dry, I could see the funny side of it.
Like Pooh and Piglet I'd wasted an afternoon going round in circles in the wood, and didn't even see a "Woozle" never mind catch one.
