Day Four: Trail Names. River Crossings and the Met Office Lying To My Face

We set off expecting the worst. The forecast had been grim, the clouds were doing their thing, and we were fully suited up before we'd even left the hotel. The full waterproof ensemble, the kind of outfit that makes you feel simultaneously prepared and slightly ridiculous. We had mentally braced for a long, wet, demoralising trudge.
What we got was a few hood-up moments and then mostly fine.
This is the thing about Scotland. It keeps you guessing. Sometimes it's glorious when it has no business being so. Sometimes it's brutal when you thought you'd got away with it. Day four, mercifully, was the former. We'll take it and say nothing further on the matter.

Lunch was good. Lunch was also, for reasons I won't fully attempt to explain, accompanied by a lengthy discussion about lambs. This is what happens on day four of a long walk, the conversation has covered the obvious topics, moved through the interesting ones, and arrived somewhere unexpected. Lambs, apparently, is where we ended up. I stand by it as a topic. There's more to say about lambs than most people think.

Somewhere on the road today we arrived at the conclusion that we needed trail names. This is a real thing that real walkers do and we are now real walkers, so it follows.

Andy has decided I am Gonzo.
The reasoning, apparently, is that I have been visibly, audibly, perhaps embarrassingly excited about the incoming snow forecast. I prefer to think of this as appropriate enthusiasm for the conditions. Andy prefers to think of it as the behaviour of a Muppet. Also like Gonzo i look good in a cape. ​We have agreed to disagree on this point, while acknowledging that the name has stuck.
Andy's trail name is still pending. I'm working on it. It will be good. He won't like it.

We had a few river crossings today that required some thought and a certain amount of commitment. Nobody got properly wet, which I'm counting as a success. The key word there is "properly." Some degrees of damp were involved. But we were persistent, we found our lines, and we got through.
This is, I think, a reasonable metaphor for the whole trip so far. We're not always elegant about it. But we get through.

We've had a lot of walking time to think about work. A lot. The miles have a way of stripping back the noise and leaving you with whatever's actually true, which can be uncomfortable.
Andy has been making a case, ​methodically, across several days now, that Lorraine is the central problem at Insights. His argument, presented with considerable conviction, is that she cares about people, she's nice, and what the situation actually demands are cold, hard, soulless results.

I didn't want to believe this. I resisted it for some time.

Then he did a gleeful little dance.I don't know what the dance added analytically, but I'll be honest with you: it was mesmerising. The man committed to it fully. And somewhere in the middle of watching Andy Tremain perform a gleeful little dance on a Scottish hillside about workplace efficiency, I found myself thinking that the crazy bastard might actually be right.

I'll need to sit with this. Sorry Lorraine.

We got to camp ahead of a storm. The Met Office had been very clear about this: heavy snow, many hours, significant accumulation. We put the tents up quickly, got everything sorted, and I settled in with the barely-concealed excitement of a man who has been called Gonzo and is determined to prove that the name is earned.
It has gotten cold. Very cold.

The snow has not come. I am not impressed.

I am going to write the Met Office a letter. A formal one. I haven't decided the tone yet, whether to go disappointed or litigious, ​but something needs to be said on behalf of everyone who suited up for weather that simply never materialised. This cannot stand.
Gonzo out.

Andy's trail name suggestions welcome. Requirements: accurate, unflattering, ideally something he has to say out loud to strangers.