Wild, wild mountains

I was a little worried lying in bed with my cup of tea this morning. The wind was swirling round the eaves, thrashing twigs and leaves against the window.

What the hell, of course we are going up the barranc!

Gori greeted us all with everything you need after a blustery walk. Mrs P was Queen of the mountain.

And we all ate pig.

Birthdays don't come much better.