Three thumbs up, and a definite maybe

"I'm up for it but cannot commit" says the text from Bobby Backspin. "Don't think training a problem as I'm fitter than the rest so prep time less"

Apart from distance running, where Punky shaded it, Bobby was the best at sport. He could have been a pro-cricketer, but gave it all up for love. He realised his mistake when she fucked off soon afterwards. A handsomely pre-nuped affair with Cricket, on the other hand, would have lasted much longer, and bought its own dress.

I ignore the "yes but no" element of the text. Winning at Kili-climbing would secure bragging rights for the next 10-years and Bobby's intense competitive streak wouldn't allow him to pass the opportunity up. He's in.

Less certain is Punky - "All sounds great - haven't got pass yet, health/ family consideration"

I forgot that he operates on reduced lung capacity from an illness years ago, so the altitude issue could scupper him completely. I run it past the younger brother, who's actually a physio specialising in  back pain - which makes him the nearest thing we've got to a lung doctor, so is our oracle.

"Shouldn't be impossible - depends on how fit he is. Mental approach as important as physical condition on this type of climb"

(This sounds familiar. He once told me that 90% of back pain is in the mind. Unfortunately the other 10%   was giving me gyp at the time. "I don't need some tu'penny ha'penny psychologist, I need some genuine TLC"  I protested. "My point exactly" came the reply. Ouch!)

Gave the reassuring news to Punky "You'll be fine, as long as you remember to breathe using your diaphragm" I say, hoping it doesn't sound like I'm confusing mountaineering with opera singing.

"I see a specialist each January and will get his opinion then. Should be OK - still like to go skiing as well." says Punky. Bet his specialist isn't some tu'penny ha'penny backstreet quack, so that's a definite maybe - fingers crossed.

JG might need a nudge - so ping him a text "G, Kili update, if Punky can do it with half a lung, we've got no excuses"

"Heaven help me - count me in" comes the reply. Result!

Now for JK.  "Son - Kili trip - its for your Charidee - are you in" Best not beat about the bush with JK - he's a man of action straight from the JFDI school of management

"I'd love to climb the bugger" That's a Yes then! Nice one. Now for the tricky Down on the Farm question.
"Great - now can I give you some suggestions regarding the name" I say, hoping this isn't going to cause grave offence. People often take criticism of their creative ideas far too personally - it's a nightmare.  Telling someone their well-meant suggestion has got as much chance of flying as a Quorn sandwich has of making the menu of Le Gavroche, is as tricky as telling them you've given their daughter the clap.

"There's no easy way to say this"
"Think you already have then"
"The name should evoke some kind of positive ... er? ... dynamic ... em ... fuck it - the name stinks. Its a bad pun on your son's condition. Might put donors off"
"Thanks mate, I'll take your professional advice on that one"

Phew! I knew all these years working in brand management would eventually pay off. It's taken the best part of 25 years, but my classical marketing training has finally delivered something useful to the world.

Mt Boredom and the next best thing to a Raleigh Chopper

"Kili?" says Dick at work "Bit boring - I've done it twice. No specialist climbing involved,  just a very long hike" Dick's a mountain climber. And not your poxy little "it's-really-just-a-big-hill-isn't-it" type of mountains - we're talking proper mountains, with all snow on the top. And he's done loads of them. He's got so many mountains notched on his belt it looks like a Toblerone.

"Sounds good to me" I say "We're not in it for the fun - it's for the kiddies. Mates Charidee" 

"Oh aye - which one?" 

"Good question - it's for people with Down's Syndrone - not got a name yet" I say, avoiding the Down on the Farm debate. (Must call JK before it's too late on this one. Gooner D (the missus), Punky, JG and Bobby Backspin agree the name sucks - still can't think of a gentle way to break it to him though).

"The only problem you might have is altitude sickness"

Altitude sickness - dogshite! This is bad news. I caught a dose when hiking the Inca Trail and it's not good. Developed for the CIA as an alternative to water-boarding, altitude sickness accounts for the second worst day of my life (beaten only by seeing Spurs lose 4-1 to Burnley while having an abscess on my tooth). Banging headache, total loss of energy and a constant feeling that you're about to explosively shit yourself - it's the work of an evil genius. The Peruvian cure, coca leaf tea and a chicken sandwich, probably not legal or available half way up Kilimanjaro. What to do?

"You can train in a pressure chamber - it might help you to acclimatise" says Dick, sensing he'd thrown a spanner in the works.

A pressure chamber! Wow. Now you're talking!  I knew we'd need some hard core training to bring this rock under our command. And what a gadget. A pressure chamber. I haven't felt this excited by technology since I first clapped eyes on a Raleigh Chopper.

"Do you know any?" I ask, envisaging a trip to some SAS boot camp on the High Moors
"Sure, there's one in Covent Garden."

Anyone out there?

Waiting for replies felt a bit like farting in a meeting - you wonder if everyone's just politely ignoring you hoping you'll go away. Perhaps the confident approach was a little too strong? Don't want to hassle the boys but, actually I do want to hassle them - but without them noticing they're being hassled. Decide to adopt the helpful approach, coach them into it, unblock their barriers, make it easy for them to say yes.

Thinking the physical effort may be the obstacle (mind you Chris Moyles only vomited twice for Children in Need - so I'm sure we can do better, and only vomit once for our Charidee) - I decide to look into the physical requirements. This feels like a good idea - after all they're a bunch of old men.

Miraculously I haven't aged a bit since leaving school, so will no doubt get away with a few sessions on the treadmill and increasing the intensity of my road rage on the cycle ride into work (you'd be amazed at how knackering screaming obscenities at London traffic can be - must be the equivalent of a half hour cardio-vascular workout per occasion at least)

Seems like we need to get into decent shape first, then embark on an 8 week course of step machines, leg presses and hiking in boots with a weight on you back. Hiking in Boots! Bit basic if you ask me  - where's the science in that? I thought we'd at least need specialist workouts in saunas wearing oxygen masks, with crampons and ropes with anchors on them - but no - seems Kilimanjaro is a very long uphill hike, followed by a marginally shorter downhill one.

Doesn't sound too onerous, so ping second email to the boys "Kilimanjaro update - training regime light, mainly walking for an hour three times a week. Bobby - you just need to carry you golf clubs for nine holes,  JG - you could walk to work - and next time you're in Wales schlep up the nearest hill for a couple of hours. Need commitment - who's in?"

That should do it - not too hassley, Punky's a cert, Bobbie too - just hope JG and JK are up for it

The cold light of day

A new dawn breaks and reality checks in. Did we really decide to haul our ageing bones up some lump of rock in the middle of nowhere? (Tanzania actually, or is it Kenya? Amazed at how little of my Geography O-level has stuck. If only I'd had a private education - perhaps I could claim some money back).

Anyway, my recollection's 100% clear - Kili 5, St Anton nil. Sensing my compatriots may demand a recount, on the grounds of being in an advanced state of refreshment when the voting closed, I feel we need to cement the decision while the iron's hot. But how?

If you're planning a party, the first thing you need is a date. A quick check of various websites reveals Jan - March good, but there's no way we'll be ready in time. May - June (our preferred option) very bad. Very bad indeed. Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing would skip up backwards in a couple of hours,  but not amateurs like us. Especially if your compatriots think anything below a 3 star hotel is slumming it; and the only tent they've ever slept in is the hospitality facility they passed out in at Twickenham.  Apparently July - August not good because of kids school holidays ("I don't think you'll see many kids on the mountain, except the ones carrying our tents"  I offer, completely missing the point)

So September seems optimal - far enough away that Bobby Backspin and Punky can schedule their busy schedules, JG - who runs his lawfirm with a keen eye on the work/life balance, can get his knee in good shape, the Ageing Hipster can convince his missus it's not a boys only thing (we went to the World Cup for her 50th, be great to do my 50th together) and JK can get childcare sorted at his country pile in the middle of nowhere (he bought a development opportunity in half of Norfolk, securing help that doesn't have six toes and webbed feet needs plenty of notice apparently)

The text goes out to the boys "Book first two weeks of September off for Kilimanjaro trip" No ifs or maybes, best to keep a confident,  never-in-doubt-was-it, tone to these things, and see who blinks first.  Fingers crossed.

It came to pass

So we're a bunch of schoolmates who have managed to stay in  touch over the years - approaching that difficult milestone, the big 5 -oh! Oh indeed - oh Christ this is a big one. How do you mark it? Nobody's ever got this old before, we need a plan.

JK - the oldest by a good few months (which makes all the difference I can assure you) takes us to the Oxo Tower to celebrate/ commiserate reaching his Half Century. Lunch was great, but it is agreed that we should do something more memorable to mark such an historic achievement.

"Let's go Skiing again - there's this place which is like Ibiza - but with snow" suggests Punky - the Smartest Guy in the Room (he runs something large in the City his PA juggles the diary months in advance to make room for small doses of hedonism, we've got him for the whole afternoon, it's a rare treat).

"Urgh!" thinks the Ageing Hipster - the charm of Ibiza having worn a little thin. It was great age 20, and again at 30, I even managed to large-it-up aged 40 - but 50? Undignified - and I stopped taking drugs so what's the point.

No - the Ibiza Winter Wanabee can wait until we're 51 - this year has got to be memorable - not slightly embarrassing.

Bobby Backspin and Johnny G continue to choose great wines, and regale us with tales of hungover trips to Bordeaux vineyards.

JK gives us his rest-of-my-life plan.  He's selling his business and looking to create a legacy for his youngest - a working Farm for people with Down's syndrome. He's setting up A Charidee to buy some land and get the project up and running.  This is A Good Thing. The proposed name - "Down on the Farm" - isn't.  Someone has to break it to him gently - but more of that later.

The Big Idea grew during the course of the afternoon - as the weary 5 went from Oxo splendour to Shakespere's Globe - Bobby Backspin got very excited at spotting Gok Wan in the bar and phoned his missus. I pointed out his name was an anagram of Go Wank - nobody was impressed. We continued to the bar of Viniopolis and then to a pub in Bermondsey run by Bobby Backspin's ex-PA's mum (believe it or not).

The boys were increasingly edging back toward the ski-trip idea. This will not do. Then I remember Punky has always wanted to climb Kilimanjaro - he really is The Smartest Guy in the Room (something to do with high finance - highly focused, earns a bomb, incapable of doing things by half).

I'd love to give that a go - and the penny finally dropped.

The Charidee will need a dose of cash to get it started, and we semi-generians will step up, climb Kilimanjaro and raise some money. Hooray - it's not a self indulgence - it's for the kiddies. I'm in - Punky's in, but what about the others?

After much slurred debate,  a vote it taken - Kilimanjaro v St Anton. Kili wins by 3 to 2 (thankfully Bobby Backspin hates skiing because he's not the best at it - I guess he reckons he's got a good chance of winning at Kili- climbing - bet he tries to reach the top first. Whatever the motives, it's the clincher)

Johnny G is not so keen - his knee went in a ski accident but he'd still prefer apres-ski sick to altitude sick. Luckily he's a man of strong democratic principle. There's talk of hiring a sedan chair with bearers (my suggestion of a donkey not so popular, but might work in the end).

And JK's in no position to argue - he's too pissed, and it's for his bloody Charidee anyway. And so it came to pass - my only difficulty was whether they'd agree to it in the cold light of day.

Next stop - get them to agree to it while sober!