With the plan for a weekend away in tatters (thanks,  migraine) I knuckled down to overtime instead. And set about cobbling together a backup plan instead. 

As I worked I figured that if Barry and I could get a car organised, we could take off to Ciste Dubh in Glen Shiel and make a brief day trip there and get our Munro count for the year started. 

By evening time, I'd signed off for the day and was contented with the prospect of a day in the hills for Saturday. Up to Hers and dog walked, Barry then called as I was making dinner and said he was coming down with something and didn't think he would make Saturday's walk. (Turns out his allergic to - his dog!)

So we discussed this and figured that Aonach Mor and Aonach Beag might be a possibility (Barry has already done them, I haven't; less miles, 2 hills instead of one, forecast is excellent all's well that ends well, eh?)

So with that settled, I left to go home, get a good night's sleep and prepare for a decent wee adventure out in the hills. I hadn't even made it to my bike (some 20 yards from Her front door) when I got the call from Tom's mother. From Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. 

She'd taken the boys there for the weekend - her friend was having a 40th birthday party and the boys were to go to Aberdeen v Rangers at Pittodrie - midday kick off, then do the party on Saturday night and come home Sunday. Obv the game bit the dust due to other events elsewhere in Aberdeenshire, but....

She was taking Tom to ARI as he'd been violently sick and was reporting excrutiating pain in his abdomen.... even from 200 miles away I could diagnose appenidicitis. 

I got in, fell asleep and my hill walking plan finally ground to a halt at 0130 when the inevitable diagnosis was delivered.