Anyone who knows me can testify that I don’t do mud.
I love the outdoors but only on sunny or crisp, dry days. The idea of going for a trek in the pouring rain through parks or fields does not appeal.
Once I took part in a boot camp fitness class – but only agreed because it was the summer and the ground was dry. The gleeful tales from participants of the winter nights when they end up head-to-toe in mud only made me convinced this was not an activity for me.
The occasion when I was persuaded to go on a jeep safari many years ago while on holiday in the Canary Isles still makes me shudder at the memory. Dust not mud was the problem on this trip.
So there I was on Sunday afternoon cold and more than a little damp. My feet were sore from walking (lets not mention boots with heels were probably not sensible, so probably my own fault) and mud all over said boots.
But did you hear me complain?
For once no.
Along with many hundreds of Falkirk Bairns and others from across the district, I had been attending Remembrance events throughout the day.
However, how could I complain about the cold and wet when we were there to remember those Bairns who a century before marched off, many to the trenches where the conditions they faced were far worse than we in 2018 could possibly imagine.
Instead I paid my respects for their sacrifice and gave thanks that I could return to a warm, dry home unlike those who lie in a foreign field.