What a flop...

Our healthy, romantic day out turned into a right fiasco...
Nice and sunny, what could be nicer than to take the furry boys up to Peel Tower? Erm, a lot of things, as it turns out...
First of all, we had the now oh too familiar fun with the Crapmobile. It broke down, not just once, but TWICE, on the way there. Once at the lights of a major junction. not at all embarrassing then...
Finally got there, our nerves already frayed after the journey there. Hubby insisted on knowing the route to go, to avoid the other dogs and families. So off we set, even though I mentioned several times that I didn't recognise this bit...
"Hm, this fence wasn't here last time. They must have changed it" became hubby's standard reply. Until we ran out of path (by which time we were surrounded by shepp, and clearly of MoD training ground. Lovely). Rather than go back a bit until we got onto the right path, hubby then suggested we climb the almost-vertical hill, and then go across the top to the tower.
Half an hour, aching legs, confused dogs, and several stepped-in-sheeps-poops later, we reach the top. Hubby sticks his head up, only to realise we've just climbed up right into a field of sheep. (They mustn't have bothered with the fence, they probably didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to climb the bloody thing!). So down we scuffle again, me now getting rather bemused by the whole situation. Since this detour has took so long, I'm also desperate for a wee, so I hid behind a bush and answered nature's call. Then I spent the whole way down trying to get the grass out of my knickers...
Hubby was trying to keep the mood up, but even he faltered when he fell and put his arm into a nice big bunch of sheep poo. OCD-Bob with a sleeve covered in poo went a long way to lighten my mood.

The usual 30-minute walk took an hour and a half, resulted in us both being dirty, smelly and pissed off, me spraining my ankle and OCD-Bob being full of shit (literally.)

Next weekend we'll probably just stay in.