“You should never have wet feet. They’re your foundation for walking.” – Hugh, as he sold me some walking boots, on day three of the trek.
“If you don’t like walking, you can always go back to selling drugs in Pulp Fiction.” – Mark from Scarborough.
“You might as well jump in a stream as soon as you start walking each day. Your feet are always going to get wet.” – David who had spent six months walking the pilgrim trail to Spain, who wasn’t selling me any boots.
“You’ve just bought new boots? That’s mad. I’ve been wearing these boots in gradually for 18 months, and they’re just about ready for a 200 mile walk. I’ll drive you to the next town if you like.” – Alex, stoner, who had somehow managed to get his car to within a mile of the bothy we were sharing.
“I come from North KiltTown too!” Willy, groundskeeper of Springfield Elementary.
“Hector, behave!” – David to his dog at 3am in a bothy, making me wonder what they do in dog training schools to teach the all encompassing command, “Behave!”. Presumably they show videos to the dogs of other delinquent glue-sniffing dogs under railway bridges, and then wag there fingers as they shout it.
“Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of their women.” – Conan B.
“We found a coffee shop at the museum in Wanlockhead. We’re from Amsterdam, so of course we stopped in it. It wasn’t like the ones back home though.” – Mart the Dutchie.