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As balmy a night as it gets in early November, with 19 stalwarts on hand to admire Andy’s sometimes dubious lines to the scene of another of Big Bob’s rare navigational hiccups (so Andy alleges). It appeared to many of the assembled company, however, that rather than navigating the line, Andy had simply kept running along the edge path until some likely looking lumps came in to view which he might convince us were always his intended destination. Whence across the bogs to Ollerbrook and home via Crookstone Knoll and rather too much bracken on the descent to the cars. To be honest, I was so far off the back for much of the evening that I’ve little real idea where we went or what we did – but I am fairly certain we finished the evening off in the Ladybower Inn, as is traditional.