Well my friends, this is it. Ben Nevis. The tallest mountain in Scotland, indeed, the tallest in the UK!
Everyone got out of the car and looked up at the not very impressive hill ahead of us.
Don't look like much.
The Little Lady kicked a stone and did her best to act like a bored teenager despite being two years away from such hilarity.
That's not actually it. You can't see it because it's behind that hill which is only half the size of it.
I checked the leaflet we had snaffled on the way in again. That didn't sound right.
For some twisted reason you can't see the taller peak of Ben Nevis behind this first hill from here. Even though it's twice the size...
I sounded slightly embarrassed, like a flat earther explaining why rivers can't flow north because it's up.
That doesn't make any sense. Why can't you see the taller mountain behind the small hill in front of it?
Fucking hell, even the Good Lady was getting in on the comedy how does the world work act.
I dunno, that's just what it says here? Anyway, enough moaning. We will be going right up this things chuff today.
I cocked a hand on my hip as if explaining to a traffic warden that he was actually a bastard.
Gift shop!!!!! GIFT SHOP!!!
The Little Boom tore off into the gift shop as far as his little legs could carry him.
Guys, we are on a schedule!?
I wailed as I trailed after them into the bowels of the shop.
I looked around in disgust, it was full of Scottish tat made in China. Highland cows of all descriptions, bags of fudge and bottles of shite whisky for the tourists.
Moo moo!
My fucking six year old child seemed to have regressed to a two year old and was clutching a squeezy highland cow.
I checked the label over.
Little guy, this is twelve pounds!? You can't get this. You don't have the money!?
And it's cheap shite I mumbled under my breath.
What? No! I want my moo moo!
The Little Boom squeezed the cow hard and part of it bulged out like a Spaniard's haemorrhoid after a curry.
Put it back dude. We are climbing Ben Nevis today not buying cheap tat.
Quite firmly, I put Moo Moo back and dragged everyone out of the gift shop.
We began our trek up the mountain.
The path changed from a track into a rough stony staircase.
This is the life, I thought. Look at these fucking views already!
I WANT MY MOO MOO!!
The Little Boom started crying and pulling at his mum's sleeve.
Come on little guy, let's get up this mountain and talk about Moo Moo when we get back?
I tried to reason with him because everyone knows that works with children.
After ten minutes of increasingly frantic screaming about the bastarding Moo Moo I gave up and took one last look at the view around us.
May as well go back down, this is murder.
The Good Lady nodded cheerfully almost as if she couldn't be arsed climbing a mountain and in fact it had all been crazy Daddy's idea and maybe there were far better things to do on a holiday.
We headed down.
Some would say that what followed was exceptionally bad parenting.
I tend to agree.
