It all happened a few years ago, one day in February in the Pentlands.

Our walk started from Bonaly Tower and headed over the hill towards Glencorse Reservoir.

It was a beautiful day, the sun shone, the sky was blue and our boots crunched over the crisp white snow. A great day to be alive! Everyone in a good mood with perhaps the odd moan from the less fit as we climbed the hill.

We had our lunch at or near the Flotterstone Inn and then retraced our steps back alongside the reservoir before veering right towards Castlelaw Hill.

Some of the ladies baulked at the thought of climbing the hill, so as an alternative it was suggested they skirt around the hill until they found the path at the other side and meet us at the style.

So off went five ladies while the rest of us climbed Castlelaw to enjoy the view, the fresh air and a short break at the top. We then made our way down the other side and detected a slight air of excitement as we approached the ladies in waiting.

and then the story unfolded...

Les girls were standing about, talking amongst themselves, when one girl said, "Here’s a guy coming with no clothes on." Unbelieving, the rest looked up, and lo and behold there was indeed a nude male pounding towards them.

Most of the ladies were struck dumb except Barbara who managed to say quite politely, "Are you feeling the heat?" Without stopping, the gentleman replied, "This is better than a sauna".

Much hilarity followed this tale, and then came the question, "But Barbara, what had he on his feet?" Said Barbara, "I don’t know", and quite indignantly, "I wasn’t looking at his feet!"

At that, the whole party collapsed in mirth.

As to what your common or garden streaker wears on his feet on a cold snow-clad hillside, alas we shall never know, since none of the other ladies present were able to throw any light on the subject.

The bus home that day was even more hilarious than usual (which is saying something), with all sorts of banter flying around, and when the bus stopped at Airdrie’s top cross, Mary rose to leave. Said the young septaugenarian in her rich Dublin accent, "Well, I’ll be off home now", and with a twinkle in her eye, "and to dream - of that foin young man".

And so ended a day in the life of the Monklands Ramblers.