PS Thank you to the one person who last week agknowledged they read my blog. I salute you!

I forgot to mention that on Friday night, The Stirling Castle pub had the pleasure of being graced by myself, Gemma, Miff (the one member of the Jitterbugs who can sing) and Jackie and Angie from work.

I don't remember much of the evening but was reminded I dueted with Miff for "sterling" renditions of "Yellow" by Coldplay and "Baby When You're Gone" by Bryan Adams and Sporty Spice.

I remember drinking copious amounts of Guinness, whisky, ordering a chinese and falling asleep after a couple of mouthfuls. I also recall dreaming about going to the toilet on at least 3 occasions but luckily awoke in Miff's flat to discover I hadn't wet her sofa bed. Phew! Probably staying in with cocoa next Friday.

I'd just like to make it QUITE clear, that Gemma watches America's Next Top Model and not me but when I happen to wander through the lounge and catch a glimpse of the TV, I notice this image of Norman Bates, and then realise that Marjorie is actually one of the final few to be a MODEL on the programme?

Amongst her hobbies, Marjorie confesses to assuming her mother's personality and repressing her death as a way to escape the guilt of murdering her. Hmmm!

In less inspiring news, this week Digging Deeper was advertised in the national newspaper the Independent on Sunday. With a readership of over 600,000 I am pleased to say that my cynicism has not been overruled as this has led to ... no additional sales.

I can also confirm that I have received confirmation from Rise Films that the film script did not win the Summer Challenge.

Back to work tomorrow I guess. Humph!

Just to reiterate our place amongst the Falkirk gliterrati, we were featured in this weeks Falkirk Herald as the "wedding of the week". Our prize for such an accolade? £30 voucher for Behind the Wall in Falkirk. Yum!

Following on from our epic adventure up Place Fell a fortnight ago and having had a couple of weeks at the gym, John and I (joined by Gemma) set about the task of climbing Ben Ledi today. What started out as a bright summers day at the bottom turned into an icy cold wind and snow at the top.

Luckily I'd packed my map, compass, waterproof top and bottoms ... then realised I'd forgotten my walking boots so had to do the climb in my trainers (as did Gemma).

We actually reached Meall Odhar which is about 40m short of the summit but it was just too windy to continue. The last section is a very steep scramble and the wind was howling so we decided to turn back. That said, we got around 2750 feet high which is around 600 ft higher than last time but still 450 feet short of the smallest of the 3 peaks, Scafell Pike and a massive 1650 feet shy of the top of Ben Nevis. So, still a lot of work to do bit some encouraging signs.

14th March 2009 - Place Fell - 3 peaks training part 1

Okay, okay ... so you want more cake! The layers were fruit and carrot. Yum!

In other news, I went to the gym again today and most important of all, my Bowel Cancer UK T-shirt turned up so I'm well chuffed and will be wearing it with pride. If anyone knows where a very nice T-shirt printer might print www.justgiving.com/leecrompton on the back for a very reasonable price, please let me know. Ta!

For those of you who haven't seen the one thing that was photographed more than the Bride & Groom on our wedding day last month ... ladies and gentlemen, I give you (drum role if you please), the cake.

It's was a bit of a change in direction from Gemma whose official stance on "cake" at the start of the organisational process was (try and imagine it in the voice of ... well, someone with a deep moany voice) "I can't get very excited about white icing".

BLAM! Then we met Karen (although I have to take the credit for spotting her buns first) and white icing suddenly became a thing of the past. Who knew you could tell the story of your courtship through the medium of sponge? I certainly didn't but there we were ... scuba diving in Turkey, being chased by giant leeches in India and me doing the house up whilst Gemma did her masters. Brilliant.

May I therefore suggest, for a cake for any occasion, you visit http://www.sucrecoeur.co.uk/ ask for Karen and I can guarantee you will seduced by icing!

Now, for those of you who thought I was being a soft southern shandy drinking poofter with my moans about last weekends trek, get a load of this ... the cross section of the flipping walk we did. See, doesn't look so bloody easy now, does it?!?!?

"Actual distance once you add in all the lumps and bumps was 11.8km. Before you get too cross with me for walking you beyond the advertised 9km I have to say that most of the additional distance was dropping down to East of Cat Crag to get out of the wind. Total ascent and descent of 738m."

... not my words, the words of proper scouty walker Hugh who, unlike myself and John, knows what the bally hell he's rambling (lame joke, sorry) on about.

OK, OK, so ignoring the fact we were still 250m short of the smallest of the 3 peaks and forgetting that John and I were shagged and Hugh returned looking as if he'd sauntered to the newsagents, for a first attempt (and having squashed the graph inwards to make the slopes look steeper ... I'm joking btw) I don't think we did too badly.

The training continues ... next stop, more hills.

PS This is the ACTUAL route we took as mapped by scouty Hugh (not his official title)

Today, John and I have mostly been enrolling at the gym. We are now proud members (week days only) at Glasgow Uni.

Furthermore, we actually used some of the machines. We're planning to go at least twice a week in an attempt to give ourselves half a chance of doing the 3 peaks. We'll be there again Thursday.

Falkirk Herald rang today. Should be an article in the newspaper within the next couple of weeks. Fingers crossed it'll help raise some cash.

Further to one of my previous entries, people have asked me how recent events have put things into perspective and what I meant by it.

Well, I would try and explain it as a double edged sword. Whilst I have a sense of "freedom" in so much as you realise you have to make the most of what you have whilst you can (which can put the hum-drum of normal everyday life into perspective), I can also (more often than not) find the sense of loss debilitating. Whilst some people find it can "open their eyes", I feel it adds to my anxiety and fear. When something you take for granted (I'm not suggesting I took my Dad for granted, but rather the assumption that he was always going to be there) is suddenly whipped away from you and the world as you know it changes forever in an instant, and there's absolutely nothing you can do to reverse the process, then (for me anyway) it does make me wonder what else could change or be taken away ... and this doesn't make me greatly appreciate what I have but more fearful as to what I could lose. This could be notion in my head or in some cases it goes to the extent that I can even imagine awful things happening whilst I'm in a given situation and can actually see them happening in my head ... a passenger getting out of my car only to be hit by oncoming traffic for example (probably one of the less graphic examples).

And yes, I know this is irrational and if I went to a shrink or councillor they'd probably tell me that I'm worrying about things that will more than likely never happen and there is no evidence to suggest that any of these awful things will occur ... but there was no evidence to suggest Dad was going to drop down dead 2 days after being told he was clear of bowel cancer, but it still happened, and if that can be stripped from my life in a moment, then what's to say anything else can't.

In a nutshell, despite trying to have a positive outlook (as my dad would have had) the flood of donations, the newspaper articles, the training (or planning of training), the conversations I have with people, make me focus on matters a great deal more than I probably would normally and my poor show on Saturday really made me think I wasn't going to be able to even attempt the challenge and my silly notion had let myself down, the charity down, together with the people who have sponsored me and most importantly my Dad.

I still find the situation I'm in a little difficult to get my head around at times.

Talking of "no turning back", thank you to the Ayr Advertiser for a lovely article in the newspaper last week. Your support is very much appreciated.

My continued upset has been with the realisation that I AM actually old, fat, balding and unfit. "How could a mere walk confirm all these things?" I hear you cry. Well, quite simply ... my limbs were too old and knackered to get me to the top with any amount of respectability (see same for unfit) whilst having to carry too many pounds to the summit (see fat) and I had to wear a hat for the majority of the climb cus my ears were cold (see balding).

So yes, I have been feeling very sorry for myself as I honestly thought, "yes, it's going to be a tough challenge but with the reasonable level of overall fitness I have, not too much of a problem." Reality bites as they say.

Things keep happening to lessen my chances of doing a U-turn though ...

http://www.bowelcanceruk.org.uk/home/media-centre/latest-news/lee-crompton

Although I don't feel they do them justice, these are the pictures of my heels following Saturday's outing. Just to put things into perspective, the "fell" we climbed to the top of was circa 650 metres. In comparison, Scafell Pike is the smallest of the 3 peaks at 978 metres.

No pressure then!

Seeing as I how the donations for the 3 Peaks Challenge total £1200 to date (thanks to everyone who has sponsored me) I guess I should say a little bit about how the training is going.

In a word, "crap". It started last Monday with a moonlight jaunt before dinner. I opted to wear my boots, to try and bed them in a little bit, together with my normal socks (I was only going out for an hour. How bad can it be?)

Cutting a long story short, I ended up with really bad blisters and hobbled around for the rest of last week. Still, buoyed by my reasonable pace, I decided to take the car out and trace my route to see how much distance I'd burned up in the hour I'd been gone. A lowly 3.3 miles. More practise was needed.

Luckily my blisters had (more or less) healed in time for the weekend just gone when we were down at Centre Parcs in Penrith for the mother-in-law's birthday. (It was a significant one, but I won't reveal the age. Suffice to say it was more than 59 and less than 61). What better place to get some walking miles under our belts than in the Lake District? The brother-in-laws therefore set out on a mini expedition, led by Hugh (cus he's a scout master and knows about this sort of thing). Our route wasn't quite as the map shows above although we set off from Sandwick and followed Ullswater and (through gritted teeth) eventually reached the top of Place Fell. We all had our advantages and disadvantages. Hugh had the advantage of being fit and an experienced hill walker but had the disadvantage of having to carry all the gear. John (who is doing the 3 peaks with me) had the advantage of having the walking poles but the disadvantage of having as much experience of hill walking as me, was suffering from a chest infection and previously undergone 2 operations on his dodgy knee. I didn't really have any advantages, just negatives, which increased as the day wore on. Having started the walk with little experience and as a smoker with a dodgy ankle, I finished some 5 or so hours later with more blisters, wounded pride, blind panic, bruised ego ... oh, and no fags after I drop kicked them off the top of the summit on the pretense that if I was EVER going to make even one of the three peaks, I was going to need as much help as possible (Please note that the country code was adhered to as Hugh went to recover my booted box of Richmond Superkings).

I've been pretty forlorn ever since, unsure I would even make it up one peak, let alone three. Yesterday I hobbled and ached. Today I hobbled and ached some more but walked to the shops at lunchtime, albeit only a 1.5 mile round trip) to get my healthy fruit and yoghurt for lunch, I've had salmon and lentils for dinner and am going to enrol at the gym tomorrow in an attempt to get fit and give myself half a chance.

Just for the record, I was 15 stone 7 when I weighed myself this morning. I have somehow put on 6 pounds since I left for Centre Parcs on Friday. It must be my time of the month.

I've just realised the last time I wrote my blog was on 26th May 2008, four days before my father (aged 55) suddenly passed away, which I why I haven't felt the inclination to write anything since.

I should start by saying this entry, and probably the next few, are likely to be rambling and disjointed. I have a lot to say in my head and not sure at the moment how it is going to come out.

The reason for writing an entry now is because of my decision to take part in the 3 peaks challenge in May to try to raise money for Bowel Cancer UK. I had received the information a while back and hadn't really given it much thought as it's the kind of thing you do if you're really fit, which I'm not. It involves climbing Ben Nevis (Scotland), Scafell Pike (England) and Snowdon (Wales), the highest peaks in their respective countries within 24 hours. Now, I've been quizzed on this and can confirm that the challenge is to complete the peaks in the same 24 hours. We start at the base of Ben Nevis at dawn on the 30th May 2009 and aim to be at the summit of Snowdon by dawn on the 31st May. This will include coming down Scafell Pike and climbing up Snowdon in the dark. Quite a challenge and not something I would normally dream of doing, but when I realised the date of the challenge, exactly 12 months after my Dad died, I signed up.

It's utter madness for someone who usually spends his spare time smoking Richmonds and playing xbox live ... and I only have 3 months to get into shape, but I think it's a fitting way to commemorate the anniversary, do something positive and try to raise some cash for Bowel Cancer UK.

People obviously assume my father died of bowel cancer. This isn't the case. He was diagnosed with the disease in the autumn of 2007, had his operation shortly after and then completed 6 months chemotherapy. He stayed positive throughout his treatment and was made up to be accepted onto a programme for a trial drug which he had fortnightly, inbetween his chemo. He was determined to beat it, and that's exactly what he did. Having completed his treatment on the Tuesday I spoke to him on the Wednesday and he was over the moon with having got through this difficult time. I can honestly say his outlook had changed since initially being diagnosed. He was looking forward to flying to Spain on the Saturday to get some sun on his back and was busy making plans to live for the moment and do all the things he'd put off in life. Gemma & I had got engaged in December 07 and he had been up to Scotland during his treatment and visited the venue and was really excited about being involved in the wedding (and the stag do ... he was looking forward to doing the cooking and already planning the menus for me and the lads).

On the Thursday we had even better news. His results had come back and he was clear of the disease. My Dad, and the treatment, had beaten the cancer. He said he'd ring me on the Friday before he and my Mum left for a week in Spain.

I got the call on Friday but it hadn't been the one I was expecting. It was my Mum to say my father had passed away. Without wanting to go into too much detail, chemotherapy increases the chances of blood clots forming. This is exactly what happened with my Dad and having gone through all his treatment and beaten the cancer, he died suddenly of a massive pulmonary embolism. Words can not explain what a shock it was to everyone and how much he is sorely missed. I not only lost my Dad that day but a good mate.

Grief is a disorientating thing. I've felt every emotion going over the last few months from anger to sadness to guilt. In some ways, and I realise this might sound odd, but I somehow feel that I've had to step into his shoes. He was always the one who was up for a challenge, and nothing seemed to ever phase him and I was always the son who looked up to and admired him. I still do of course but his death puts certain things into perspective. There's things I've done since last May that I would never have dreamed I would have to do and some things I would never have dreamed I was capable of doing. Just reading my last blog entry for example. I remember him laughing down the phone, listening to me as I wandered drunkenly around Edinburgh explaining to him on the mobile that our film had won the awards. Since then I've had to sign his death certificate at the registrars, stand up at his funeral and say a few words, get through our first Christmas without him and do something I never imagined possible during my groom's speech at our wedding, raise a toast to my late father. Like I said, it changes your perspective on things and as I tried to explain earlier, it somehow feels I've had to step up to the plate. I don't mean replace him but do things in a manner in which he would approach and deal with them. I somehow find great comfort in that.

So yes, whilst he didn't technically die of bowel cancer, I'm positive that if he hadn't have had the disease, he'd still be here today. Hence I've signed up for the 3 peaks challenge. I have also started to write again and have started a competition whereby for a £3 donation, supporters have the chance to have their name used as a character in the book and receive a signed copy.

If you would like to find out more, please visit the following links and if you have any spare cash, I would be grateful for any donations. Thank you

www.justgiving.com/leecrompton
www.justgiving.com/leecromptonbook

I should mention that I also have a vested interest in all of this. Having been diagnosed, my Dad was extremely keen for me to get checked out myself. It just so happened that my colonoscopy came within weeks of him passing away. I came out of the hospital in tears, just knowing that this had where it had all started for my Dad. My results have shown that I have a tendency to develop hyperplastic polyps which in turn have a small chance of turning cancerous. I therefore now have to get checked out every 12 months and have them removed before they have chance to develop into anything else.

Bowel cancer is the 2nd biggest cause of death by cancer in the country. To find out more, please visit http://www.bowelcanceruk.org.uk/