On Friday I finished work at midday. I told my wife I’d deliver Christmas cards in the afternoon. I really meant it. But one of my so-called “climbing friends” asked me what I was going to do. Before I knew it I’d said “Go to the wall.”
The next three and a half hours were a blur. It started with some gentle traversing, but before I knew it we were onto the hard stuff. It seemed we couldn't help ourselves ; on and on hardly stopping. No food or drink, just climb after climb.
Eventually my wife tracked me down, got me home. I woke next day, arms aching, fingers trashed. But by lunchtime I wanted more.
I don’t know how I’ll get through Christmas Day. I’ve got a pull-up bar in the garage. Maybe I can pretend I'm going to get the beer and whisky stashed out there, and I can do just a quick set... must resist...
Merry Christmas to all blogreaders!