Post-climb swally? You can read me like a book; Libby's had a busy time celebrating two of her favourite things - International Women's Day and World Book Day. Here she tells how she was a class act for primary school kids then joined the girls as they powered up a mountain.
It's always nice when things you love get international recognition.
Anyone who knows me knows that two of my favourite things to do are to hang out with the lassies or to hole up alone with a good book. So I celebrated World Book Day on March 5 and International Women's Day last Sunday. I was invited to Holy Cross Primary on Thursday where I caught up with a few fellow muckers Gary Lewis and the Daily Record's own Des Clarke. All of us there to talk to the bairns about books.
I still have a voracious appetite for reading but as a kid I could never get my hands on enough books. Saturday mornings saw me in Castkemilk Library trawling the shelves, unable to make my mind up in case I chose a duffer. I'd have read them all, cover to cover, by Wednesday bedtime. The big tomes that were The Grimm's Fairy Tales became my fail safes. Their lurid and cautionary content seemed to suit my 'constantly outraged at life's injustices' and wee drama queen personality. I read them on a loop.
up we sodden to toe inside few of also on our What a privilege it was to visit and be surrounded by these precious wee ones and have a chance to ask them about the stories they love.
They all shouted: "Yes!" when I asked if people needed air, then water, food and sleep but it made me laugh when I then asked them if we needed stories as no one us had slipped bums.
knew the right answer. Of course, I suggested we really do need the stories. We all agreed that when we read about characters we love, they make us feel less lonely.
For International Women's Day a squad of us girls climbed Ben A'an. Billy Connelly said: "There's no such thing as bad weather only the wrong clothing." Well we girls had it all going on. By the time we were halfway up, i.e. neither up nor down, we were sodden from head to toe as well as inside and out, with bras and knickers soaked in sweat.
A few of us had also slipped on our bums into the many mires we met on the way or slid off the stepping stones over the burn to end up knee-high in freezing cold water.
Yet once back at base, albeit drookit, we were deliriously happy at having done it. Not least because it was time to head back to one of ours for copious amounts of scran and the post-drenching quenching of our drouths.