Dan Germain

dan's very best

International superstar graphic designer Ben Terrett sends me a message:

"I'm not sure if you do guest posts.

But if you did, and you asked me, I'd submit this picture."

The slog.

So yesterday Russell and I hiked to the top of Ben Nevis.

It was a long day - a 10 mile round trip, and Britain's highest mountain to get up in the middle of that. I'd not been out in the mountains for over a year, and Russell has not done that much mountaineering, but it was a fine day - tough but good.

We were even blessed with a fair bit of snow above three thousand feet, which made the going even harder, but added to the majesty of the mountain.

Even when the conditions got wintery Davies drove on.

Of course tea and the odd Mars Bar were taken, but onwards we went, mile after mile, higher and higher.

And soon we reached the summit, I pulled a funny face to acknowledge the significance of the occasion, Russell looked tired (to signify that he was feeling tired).

We took lunch on the summit and had a little snooze, though not too long, as the weather closed in (I think Russell might have some good pictures of the almost 'white out' conditions).

The walk down is always a bitch, so we approached using an ultra new alpine style of mountaineering, which involves listening to ipods and using an air guitar (as required).

Tea and a chin-wag followed in the shadow of The Ben.

Before the obligatory bath (separate).

The legs are a little stiff today, but nothing too tragic - more that good feeling you get when you've used them properly.

Well done, Russell. Well done, Mother Nature.

Ps. Great pictures by Russell here.

 

(This post was written by Mr. Paul H. Colman, I think that's it now from me, Dan is coming back. Goodbye.)

More of Scotland.

The trip goes on.

The journey from Glasgow to Fort William wasn't that demanding, but we took tea, a biscuit, and a view anyway.

We saw an old enemy of mine - a certain mountain that once chewed me up and spat me out down her side. I tipped my cap, out of respect.

 

We then had a fine supper and discussed intellectual matters of the highest order.

Tomorrow it's The Ben.

Until then, good evening.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, guide.)

Doncaster.

Word has clearly got around that we will be passing through many towns and cities on our quest to walk up the Nevis. So all along our route local bloggers and fans have come out to wish us luck, say hello, and cheer us on.

Doncaster was particularly moving.

(Paul H. Colman wrote this, amen.)

Off to Scotland.

Off to Scotland this weekend to stroll up Ben Nevis (should the weather allow it). I feel quite modern as I'm writing this from the train, while Russell pens his latest campaign column. Internet on trains, whatever next - phones in cars?

Just passed Newark, not sure where that is, but about an hour and half outside of London (on the way to Scotland). We've just upgraded to First Class, the sun is shining, I've got a bacon sandwich on the way. So far so good.

(Written by Paul H. Colman, man.)

On the terrace.

We are lucky enough to have a terrace at work, so I took my computer and my weary body out there for a bit of al fresco working this afternoon. Nice. The city, the breeze, the quiet, all a pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of the office.

Then the wireless went a bit funny, so I had to come in. Still, was jolly pleasant while it lasted.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, not for very much longer.)

Some things...

...are yellow, and that's fine and dandy, they need to be.

But some other things...

...are grey. All grey and serious.

It's the way of the world.

I shouldn't laugh.

But I did.

I laughed for all of us who think a phone is something to call people on. To use to check how mum is doing. Or to call Aunty Helen on to apologise for not sending a thank you card sooner.

I laughed for all of us who don't want a phone you have to cradle in your arms and gently caress every time you want to check if Jonesy is coming to the pub.

I've stopped laughing now, but I'm still smiling.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, the one in the hat.)

Reds.

I met a man for eggs,
aimed a trainer at his head,
his jumper was red,
so I ignored everything he said.

Good evening.

(This poem was written by Paul H. Colman, so there.)

"How much of human life is lost in waiting?"

None.

I had to wait at Gerrards Cross last night for a train back to London, and I found plenty to do.

I examined the CCTV cameras (there seemed to be a suspicious character wandering around).

I checked my new trainers were still looking cool (they were). And I soaked up the evening. Alone, at a small train station in Buckinghamshire.

Then the train arrived. I got on and headed back to the smoke, having wasted nothing.

Choo choo!

Ps. Serendipity calls: as I write this post I've just received an email alerting me to a new blog, written by Dave Wilding, from the train. Sounds right up my street, here's the link.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, friend to the home counties.)