I’m really going to spoil you all this week my faithful followers. Its that time of year again and as this is the second time we have done this trip then I think I can call it a tradition, a habit or a chore, what ever you wish but tomorrow morning at 5am, D (me) shall rise chuck some provisions into my filthy work car and trundle uptown the pub to collect N and M. Tomorrow we attempt to conquer the tallest mountain in a neighbouring country; international mountaineering from the men from theministryofshrawleywalks, leaving behind C, and temporary but always welcome wife of mine, Mrs T. The Ministry aim to be the highest people to consume a Wyre Fire Pork pie in Wales ate any one given moment. I’ll push any fucker off Crib Goch if they interfere with my pork pie, not M and N, it’s a joint effort after all, and we’re doing it for the team, and to forge international relations between our two proud nations. So without a tin bath on roller skates in site we will clamber up the mountain not at all like the three old boys from “the last of the summer wine” and not at all leaving Norah at home! There can be no comparison made, at all, really, we’re nothing like them and do not seem to emulate them the longer this shambles continues. Heres hoping the staff at the YHA we stay in will allow us to put more than one log in the log burner at a time, and that we don’t have to sit about 6 feet away behind a metal fire guard, freezing our nuts off. M took it upon himself to engage in log chat with the staff, and made sure he got the name of the manager, Dave I think, to remedy and teach Dave the ropes. I think Dave waited in a cupboard for us to leave before he made himself available!
Without further ado, my bags are packed at the foot of the stairs, packed with a very tired and slightly hungover head this evening due to a rather fine weekend down at friends in Chorley Wood, where the wine flows and the beer flows and the music plays, and we all sit down and chat, like a sedentary bacchi bash, without the orgies, christ some of us are in our 50’s and should probably know better. And let me tell you I might have made a grave error in not having a small afternoon nap on Saturday afternoon; there are two sides to this coin, firstly had I not had a nap (which is exactly what I did) then I probably would have got a little drunk a little earlier and gone to bed a little earlier than some. Secondly, had I taken a nap, then maybe I would have stayed up till 3am on sunday morning only to have to wake up about 5 hours later to go for a dog walk. Either way I bet I would have woken up feeling like a pig had shat in my head, which it did with the first option, which I did, I can speak from experience.
So In training for the ascent of the Mountain tomorrow we drunk far too much IPA and wine and walked to the pub on Sunday with the kids for lunch, its what Sir Edmund Hillary would have wanted. At the danger of repeating myself, I must say once again, I’m getting too old for these capers! And I love capers. As an aside I’m hoping the cafe at the top of Snowdon is open as last time it wasn’t and the weather was bloody terrible up there, visibility down to 30 feet, the wind my only friend. It would be nice to be able to warm up and have a brew at 1085m or there about, I think its slightly less as that is the summit height, we’ll see.
A special treat for al you Fungi fans out there, and I know one member of the ministry will be particularly stoked with this shot, C loves a multitude of Mushrooms, a flotilla of fungi, a toad full of toadstools, forget that last one I think she’d be pretty disgusted by that suggestion. But spotted moving logs this weekend down in Chorley wood was this small family migration from a log where they were persecuted by dogs urinating on them to search for higher ground, let’s all hope they find somewhere they can call home. What would their kin, and famous musician relatives in the wonderful 70’s band “Fungidelic” say? “Keep on Keeping on” which incidentally I used to use towards the end of earlier blog posts, strange how these things come in full circle sometimes isn’t it?