Leon Northern Ireland, Scotland and Northern England without breaks the rain, and some damp and breezy weather extending in from the end. We are the Kindred spirits. We are the fellowship, humed from granite and grit. We are the restless, the persistent, the plain stubborn. We are the strivers for perfection, the vanquishes of ghosts. We are forges of dreams, crafters of comfort. We are the smallest detail and the simplest innovation. We are the hand stuffed sleeping bag, the sharpest needles. We are the stories in every seam, the memories in every piece. We are the weather jacket, the borrowed kit bag, the huddle of a storm-lash tent. We are the warmth of companionship beneath icy skies. We are the clink of tin mugs in the shivering dawn. We are the smell of fresh rain that sun rise, of embers at sunset. We are the voices that spur you on. We are the stalkers of the flame. We are the fibres that he twine as all. We are the bummed, stronger than any rope. We are the mountain people. We are rab.