“Well young Cyrus today’s the today son.”

“What’s that then Dad?”

“Surely you’ve not forgotten lad – today you will attempt to reach what is thought locally to be the highest point in our flood plain village of Dinglethorpe namely the north face of Mrs Dearstalker’s garden shed no less! It stands at nearly four metres and remember no one has ever conquered its summit by the northern route previously so ready yourself Cyrus boy for today is your day to achieve accolades and plaudits of both your contemporaries and elders alike. The ascent commences at noon and you will need to check to ensure your equipment is in appropriate condition for such a dangerous escapade and that you have sufficient provisions for what could well be a lengthy climb. And remember only a fool takes unnecessary risks.”

“Oh but Dad I were going to village pond with the rest of the lads to hunt sticklebacks today – can’t we do the shed another time?”

“Cyrus, Cyrus, Cyrus we’ve been waiting weeks for ideal weather conditions such as we have this very day. This is a window of opportunity not to be scoffed at – and besides I’ve already purchased for you a veritable sufficiency of freshly sliced Kendall Mint Cake to feed an army.”

“But you know I’ve got vertigo Dad – that’s why you bought the bungalow. You do recall that don’t you Dad?”

“Vertigo my arse Cyrus – there’s no such thing. Right then let’s go through the check list. Climbing harness – ROGER THAT; helmet – ROGER THAT; boots – ROGER THAT; a handy nut tool – ROGER THAT; quickdraws – ROGER THAT; rope, nuts and hexes – ROGER THAT; slings, plus of course a few screwgate carabiners – ROGER THOSE.”

“No one says ‘ROGER THOSE’ Dad – it’s always ‘ROGER THAT’”

“True, you’re right should I start the check list again?”

“Nay, don’t bother with that Dad and anyway won’t I need a handy guidebook Dad?”

“Good thinking son – every mountaineer must have a handy guidebook about their person.”

“Where we going to get a handy guidebook Dad?”

“Ah you’ve got me there boy.”

“Can I go and hunt the sticklebacks in the village pond then Dad – you know until we can get ourselves a handy guidebook charting the best passage to the summit?”

“Um……’ve got me thinking now lad…….yes it would be highly irresponsible of me to let you embark on such a dangerous venture not fully prepared. Sadly Cyrus – and I do hope you won’t be overly distressed the mission must be aborted on this occasion. Apologies son, I know the acquisition of a handy guidebook was my responsibility.”

“No matter Dad I’ll be back for me supper – catch up with you later.”



  1. Christ! If only you’d written this during the halcyon Golden Age Of Blogging instead of being in France with the old woman! You’d have been feted, adored, nominated for some lame blogging award and jumped on by nude bints carrying barrels of lager in their giant makeup bags!!!

    1. A blogging groupie! Now there’s a thought. I have a story to tell about the Golden Age wot I will ridicule meself about on Facebook a little later – it’s all your fault you see!

  2. Aye you’re not wrong there Clivey boy! The geezer would have been a made man in the blogging world son. To be honest I don’t think there’s been a better time in the entire history of mankind than the Golden Age Of Blogging and I pity the poor fool who missed out on it!

  3. What I want to know is what the heck is a handy nut tool? It kind of sounds like something Clive would give to a groom along with an angle grinder. 😉 Excellent post!

      1. Maybe it’s to ensure male climbers don’t take a fall. As to an equivalent device for female climbers I’m not sure what they’d be called.

  4. if a guide book proves difficult to find, might I
    suggest a sherpa or two?

    these little chaps always know the
    best routes and I’m sure one or more of the
    little buggers has got his leg over Mrs Dearstalker
    ‘s shed afore now (at least that’s the
    rumour) – and as a
    bonus, they can carry the ale so
    there’s something for young Cyrus to sup as he
    prepares to mark his successful ascent of Mrs Dearstalker
    ‘s shed by planting his flagpole in . . .

    ‘ere, where’s Mr Dearstalker? If he’s going
    to be around, mounting Mrs Dearstalker
    ‘s shed might require more than ale
    and sherpas !

    1. Nice one Sir. However the enterprise is being financed by the boy’s father a dour Yorkshireman and I am wondering if the old boy is prepared to fork out for a Sherpa or two? As for mounting Mrs Dearstalker you most ably and with some panache take this into DH Lawrence territory!

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