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A message of thanks to the Mendip cavers whose annual visit to Assynt is keenly awaited by us and all our friends as we acknowledge the contribution you make to the cultural atmosphere of the pub.  Your latest visit in May was like all the others, a riot of fun, good humour and a prolific consumption of our delightful fruit juices and teas (did you do any caving at all?).

I'm sure that Tav, Tony, Richard (gob-shite, rubber man etc etc) Jake, Simon and others too numerous to mention recall the excellent slide show of caving in India, Pakistan and the more remote Assynt and of the hilarious and witty comments banded about between your lot and the fishermen from Falkirk.

A special thanks for the kind gift of your excellent home grown, mature and potent Scrumpy which Raymond found to be an excellent floor cleaner; he's also curious to know how you got the cat to squat over the container!

I'm sure that Richard would wish us to pass on his thanks to the Sutherland constabulary for the Blue Light taxi service which has recently been introduced for those who think that they can find their way home in the dark, a service that I know will be appreciated on subsequent visits.  Advance bookings can be made by calling PHART 999.

We hope that you enjoyed the curry dinner which was remarkable, not only for the quality of our food, but by the uncharacteristic silence that descended the conservatory as you devoured the food, dishes, napkins, table mats and anything that remotely smelled of curry.  That evening in the pub, the usual aroma of roll-ups and cigars was frequently augmented by an additional eye watering fog which some unkind punter attributed to the curry.  Jake however assured me that it did not smell like that when it went in!

I must confess my concern at the time for the obvious fire hazard during the night at the bunkhouse in Elphin and of my horror in the morning when the local radio station reported that the largest and most catastrophic fart ever heard in Northern Scotland was one dropped by a caver (Bristol variety) in the car park of the above bunkhouse on the morning of the 3rd of May 1998.

Suffering from a mixture of spicy food and gallons of ale, the caver gingerly attempted to squeeze one out while bending to pick up his car keys, the resultant flatulent explosion blew his entire digestive tract out of his arse.  Attending firemen hosed down his smoking guts for two hours before paramedics with breathing apparatus could begin the process of pushing them back up.

Incidentally, the wee dog that you tried to rescue returned home a few days later, I suspect that being averse to the aftermath of hot curries it waited until you had gone and the coast was clear.

On a more serious note, we thank you for your continued support and friendship and look forward as always to your future visits.

21 June 1998