Squiggling all over!

Thurs 7th Oct.
Again had an early start, and had a lovely cup of coffee and date slice, at the Bruar Centre - it is well recommended.
I was going to stock up on supplies at Calvine, as it is a long haul to the next amenities, and I also  don't like to carry things any longer than I must. However, there were zero services, even although they were sign-posted, so I had to survive the trek on six digestive biscuits and a pint of water.
I finally arrived in Dalwhinnie - where again multiple services were indicated - only to find a small shop still open [thank goodness], and no accommodation available. I will have to write a strong letter of complaint to those who are responsible for these signs, to update them, as these two instances were certainly not only ones, by a long way, in my experience, so far.
My good old tent played its part, yet again, and it was a dry, although cold, night.
I broke out my survival bag, this time. It is basically a big, overpriced, bright orange, plastic bag, with some writing on it, into which you insert yourself. The procedure, within my small one-man tent, is a bit like reverse metamorphosisis. You squiggle into your sleeping-bag, and then you squiggle again into your plastic bag. I must admit it does do the job rather well.