A little earlier I mentioned "plotting and scheming". Please don't read anything sinister into that. I'm not Machiavelli or even Dick Dastardly. I'm a girl who is finally finding herself. A girl lucky enough to have met her perfect match. My intentions that Sunday morning were all loving and not in the slightest bit sinister.
Our weekend together had been agreed in advance: steep hills on Saturday, very titchy mountains on Sunday. After Sunday's trek (and at that point I had no idea where we'd be going), we were setting of for home. On Bank Holiday Monday, Dave was due to be rock climbing.
Boo! Hiss! I didn't want our time together to end, not so soon as Sunday afternoon. I wanted more. More and more and more.
The outcome of my scheming was this: When we got to the top of the first titchy mountain, I was going to beg her to ditch her climbing session. I was sure that, if we tried hard enough, we could find somewhere to stay for another night. Surely we could. Failing that we could always go back to my place or hers.
And, wherever we ended up, I wanted to spend Monday with her. On Monday, if all went well, I was going to tell Dave how I felt about her.