"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."
"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."
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