I have typing diarrhoea. It's not enough to have a poetry blog, a navel gazing blog, facebook and twitter and a cycling blog. I want more. But in the interests of sanity and general good behaviour, I'm just going to broaden this beyond cycling and into the rest of my world. Because I have a weird world which like a balloon inflates and deflates, ties itself in knots and on occasion changes colour. And I'm excited because my normal balloon planet is changing. It's budding off and is becoming a most odd shape. I'm really excited about my future. And have now used the word excited rather too much. It's taking on a new shape, and it's one I semi direct but far from control. And almost every day something else like a slightly less annoying than normal mosquito draws itself to my attention.
Today, I climbed. Convinced the poor unsuspecting climbing partner who thought we were going bouldering (as if) that he was in fact a very able second and was essentially the guinea pig to my lead climbing and importantly (for him) my newly acquired skills in setting up a belay. A gorgeous evening dawned over North Manchester, and the quarry has a beautiful open aspect which means you can see hills, and the sun can reach whole swathes of clean sculpted rock. There are no mozzies, and no marshy spots (I may have climbed at Anglezarke one too many times). And it draws you in with a horseshoe shape, and the friendly sounds of other climbers, occasional calls, jingling of gear and muttering under breath. And I led a couple of routes and then was told (not asked, how manly) that I was going to climb a top roped E1 route. Which was somewhat of a surprise to me at the time. But always (ha) obedient and feeling in a mood for experimentation up it I swanned, with surprising ease and maybe even grace (which actually in my books means simply not using my knees). And life was good as with shaking knees I reached the top, staggered to a handy ledge and gasped those traditional words "I'm safe".
It is possible tonight might have been intended as a date. I'm not clear on these things. I don't think so, always safest to assume not and take the pressure off, and just be the pushy I'm going to lead while you second woman I am. In any case, I have a ringing familiarity with the phrase punching above my weight. And there was beer and there were ideas thrown about for the future I'm so excited about. The growed up gap year, or indeed as I'm thinking of it, the year of play planned from September pushed out a new weird bubble from the balloon tonight. A van. Why don't I get a camper van. And although the concept makes me wince slightly with the pretentiousness of it all, why don't I? Why not?
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