Perhaps the lack of tales is because most of it is clouded in an alcoholic haze!
On the 1968 Winter Course I was presented with my tankard from the Sharjah team. "That's nice." I said and was then persuaded to fill it with a spirit of my choice. Brimming with vodka the tankard was returned to me whence I commenced to sip it gently thinking that it was going to last me the entire duration of the course.
"On the table. Down in one", was the loud chorus after my third sip. With over a hundred MR blokes I had no option. After glugging about 3/4 of the tankard they decided that was enough and passed the tankard round.
About 5 minutes later, feeling somewhat woozy, I made my way outside the Aviemore Centre to the car park, found the landrover that we had come in, dropped the tailgate and parked my mouth over the gap so that the puke wouldn't spoil the inside.
I can remember comments from arriving members of the public along the lines of "Bloody mountain rescue again - evil bastards".
My mate tried to find me sometime later concerned for my safety. I wasn't discovered until chucking out time. I was then reunited with my duvet jacket. They reckoned that it was only the alchohol in me that saved me from hypothermia on one of the coldest nights in Scotland for years.
Haven't liked vodka since
