One day a friend of mine and I went jogging. I was 16 at the time. That’s all nice and well, you might say. We decided to venture out of town and up into the hills. There were two main footpaths leading to the hills. The first path was shorter but passed near an old castle. There were horror stories about the castle, so the hell with going near it. The second path was…well how should I know?! I’m joking 😆. We took the second path.

First we went through an isolated area with a few houses scattered here and there. We were about to cross a junction when we stopped dead in our tracks. There were two Rottweilers and a German shepherd in the middle of one of the streets, about fifty metres away from us. We locked eyes with the dogs. It felt like we were in a Mexican stand-off. They started barking furiosly. My friend tried to reassure me that I didn’t need to worry, but before he could even finish, the f-ing dogs started to run towards us. For a moment, we stood still, staring at them, thinking that it was just a front and that they’d stop eventually. When it was clear that it wasn’t a front, we turned tail and hauled ass. Thankfully, the dogs showed mercy and stopped chasing us after a while. However, we now had to find a way around them.

Long story short, we found a dismissed path. Well, dismissed is a euphemism; there wasn’t really a path. We had to walk through hundreds of metres of wild vegetation; it’s a mystery how we didn’t come across a single snake. Anyway, there was good news and bad news. The good news was that we’d made it onto the hill, so hurray! The bad news was that we had somehow ended up on the site of a gravel pit. You can’t make this shit up!

To be continued.