This, ladies and gentlemen, is Fiona Smith ... yes, the Fiona Smith.

Doesn't ring any bells? Well listen here. I'm about to give you the heads up because the aforementioned Fiona is the Editor of Shortbread Stories, a website specifically designed to be a showcase for writers, making their short stories available to a worldwide audience. What's more they're aiming to be the largest website of their kind ... in the world ... ever!

So whether you fancy a read or would like to upload your short stories to the website, why not take a look and see what you've been missing before Shortbread Stories explodes across the globe like some literary custard that's been left in the microwave too long and you turn into one of those sad losers who jumps on the passing band wagon, trying to barge your way to the microwave in the back of the wagon to try and lick up some of ... the, errm, custard. Oh, forget it. Just take a look at the damn site.

I was kindly invited along to the Literary Salon at Dundee Contemporary Arts Centre on Thursday evening to sit on a publishing panel. All went very well and I met some very interesting people, including Kirsty Lee.

Far be it for me to "big-up" other authors but credit where credit is due. Kirsty is attempting to write a short story a day for (wait for it) 12 whole months.

Lovely woman, totally mad project ... a combination which urges me to ask you (are you still there?) to check out Kirsty's work and support her accordingly before she is forced to slip into unflatterng white overalls and confined to a padded cell for the rest of her days.

The link to Kirsty's site, funnily enough, is in my list of "links". Check it out.

Minor rant, but does everyone know what a courgette looks like?

If you do I wouldn't suggest you apply for a job at the Co-op supermarket, at least not at my local store, where it would appear a prerequisite of being awarded the job is that you display a very limited knowledge of common vegetables.

Now, speaking as man who used to work at a supermarket in his student days, I am all too aware that larger supermarkets sometimes stock some unusual vegetables which are difficult to recognise. Two things ... firstly there is nothing in my local Co-op more exotic than a banana (I fully appreciate this isn't a vegetable but you get the idea) and secondly, is a courgette really too difficult to recognise? I can appreciate that a yam might be difficult to distinguish from a sweet potato. My particular failing was more within the fruit kingdom, Kumquats, pomegranates and greengages but we were tested on these by our supervisors so that we wouldn't need to stare blankly at customers with our mouths wide open whilst holding their plums (sorry, couldn't resist).

Anyway, we meandered our way through the remaining contents of my shopping basket ... Red Bull, milk, we even managed to stumble our way through the carrots and broccoli, but then the blank expression descended over Jamie's (I read the name badge) face once more. He looked at me, held up the last remaining bag of vegetables and cocked his head to one side. In my head I was screaming, "For God's sakes, it's a couple of f**king parsnips, Jamie," but I smiled and informed him in a much more polite manner.

I have nothing to say in Jamie's defense. The bag was clear, the parsnips not discoloured or misshapen in any way that might suggest that they were anything else other than ... f**king parsnips.

I'm afraid this entry isn't going anywhere, other than to ask, does anybody else not know what a parsnip (or a courgette) looks like? I'm going now as I appreciate I'm beginning to sound rather pompous.

And so probably the last of my reports from the Edinburgh Festival, with the 3 final shows to go.

Something a little more highbrow for Mum. A play called "Orphans". My review? Quite enjoyed it for someone who thought they weren't keen on theatre, ending a bit strange and they used the "c" word more times than the comedy show we'd seen earlier in the week. 8/10

I can't even remember the name of the 2nd show. Gemma wanted to see it and it was ok (at best). Something to do with "Craig still watches Neighbours" and was about a bloke who still watches Neighbours and included him playing clips from Neighbours and making averagely funny remarks about them ... along with some other VERY random bits chucked in 6/10.

And then, we saved the best until last ... Tom Wrigglesworth. It's ultimately a show about a particularly eventful train journey he had from Manchester to London with Virgin but it's a must see, very funny and he seems like a really top bloke (who really likes Vimto ... I know that because I was chatting to him at the bar before the gig ... about Vimto ... although at that stage I didn't have a clue who he was)

So a big fat 9/10 for Tom. A fitting way to end our festival fun for another year!

In other news, thought I'd share with you that the Digging Deeper film script has been sent to FluidEye Productions in Edinburgh for their assessment and a copy of all three of my books will be winging their way down to London tomorrow to be scrutinised by an agent I've been lucky enough to have a chat with.

Will keep you posted.

Received my certificate from Bowel Cancer UK this morning ... so I'd like to say a big thanks (and an individual hug) to everyone who helped raise the £5,288.90.

Admittedly it was me who did all the bloody training and hill climbing, but at least we managed to raise a massive amount a cash in the process, so thank you.

Now, with Mum up for the festival over the weekend, what better way to play it safe than take her to a couple of safe shows before the even safer banker of the Edinburgh Tattoo.

Friday saw us start our schedule with a nice and safe lunchtime "best of the fest" in which you get a 10 min taste of 4 top comedians from the festival ... only one of which I've heard of. First up was Justin Moorhouse (the guy from Phoenix Nights) who was very good and I'll give a 7/10. He was followed by a not quite as funny Irish fella (is it worth giving him a rating if I can't remember his name? 6/10). Then came a very short "comedian" who wasn't very funny at all (but not as bad as Vladimir McTavish, so a 4/10) and then a very good, but very rude New Zealand comic who used the "c" word 5 times during his 10 minutes, which sent me into regular sideways glances to see how Mum was reacting to her Edinburgh experience. Anyway, this guy was supposed to be New Zealand's top comic ... although having done a google image search, I can't find any trace of him. Anyway, he'd be a 7/10 but downgrading him to a 6.5 for saying the "c" word a lot ... in front of my mum ... at a lunchtime show ... and for being fairly intimidating.

So, with nothing else to see until the Tattoo and the rain beating down, we decided to take shelter in the form of a wild card option ... Early Long Island Iced Tea which is directed by Mel Smith (yes, as in Smith and Jones) and I therefore thought it might be mildly funny. Didn't know if it was a play, musical or whatever, but it was certainly full of people more my Mum's age. It was an hour of caberet singing, and hour of caberet singing by an old queen (with a cracking voice it has to be said) singing old songs in an overly dramatic way. To add insult to injury, there were a few attempts at comical interludes which fell flat on their faces (unless you were of a certain age) which I presume were the inventions of Mr Smith. I was ready to cut my own ears off by the end of the hour. Mum seemed to enjoy it however.

Then onto the Tattoo. What a spectacle, not even dampened by having to sit in the heavy rain with my hood up and a bin liner over my legs. All in the name of "festival" my friends, all in the name of "festival".

Next up, Jason Cook with his new show, FEAR.

Nothing unexpected here. Saw him last year, brilliant. Saw him again this year, still brilliant.

You'll notice their are no accolades from the Guardian on his poster.

Top quality. Go see.

At this time of year, the papers are full of reviews for various shows at the Edinburgh Festival, and maaaaan, there's a lot of them. You can't walk anywhere in the city without a flyer or 10 being thrust into your path, all seemingly rated as the best show at the fringe by such and such.

But then it's all down to a matter of taste. I will therefore give humble opinion on shows to go and see and those to be avoided ... in order of appearance.

Vladimir McTavish: The Top 50 Scots Of All Time Pt II.

"A 2008 sell-out. Another affectionately scathing critique of one small nation's greatest icons."

‘Gleefully indulgent, highly appealing’ Guardian.

Now, I'm not a Guardian reader, in fact on the basis of their reviews, I don't intend to ever read the Guardian as my take on things would appear to be in direct contrast to this particular newspaper.

Far be it for me to be judgemental, but if I had seen the picture of Vladimir before we'd bought the tickets, I wouldn't have bothered. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who is going to make me laugh ... and he didn't, only in sympathy by the end of an gruellingly uncomforatble hour. I'm not sure how the Guardian could have thought otherwise. I was kind and gave him 5/10. Gemma (who is usually much kinder than me) gave him a 3/10 and said that was being generous. One to be missed in our opinion.

Sign up for the FREE FACEBOOK BOOKSHARE.

The idea came from bookcrossing.com where you can "release books into the wild" by registering it on their site (which gives it a unique number) and then leaving it in a random place (say a phone box or restaurant), letting people know on the website where you have left it and then another person finds it, reads it, reviews it on the site and leaves it in a random place for someone else to find (and so on and so forth).

I therefore signed up my own books and released them but they didn't like that very much because they said it was self-publicity (you're supposed to release books you've read and enjoyed, not ones you've written yourself) and not in the spirit of bookcrossing. I said this was a load of nonsense and why should my book be any different to anyone elses and they said ... we have some very top-profile authors on their site and if they self-promoted their own books they would shut down their profile too ... and I said something along the lines of "well I'm sure Stephen King doesn't have too much bother with publicity and wouldn't have to resort to releases his own books for free on bookcrossing in any case."

Needless to say, we fell out (apologies for the ultra-long sentences). So ... (deep breath) what I'm proposing to do is my own book crossing where you say which title you want to read, I send it to the 1st person that signs up, they read it, review it on the fan page, and then send it to the next person on the list, and so on a so forth ... so it's like a book share where all it costs you is the postage to send it to the next person on the list.

Does this make sense? Just leave you're name and the book you would like to read on my Facebook fan page (or send me a message) and I'll contact you with the craic.

Happy reading!

Now onto the next project, book 4. If you've been reading the earlier posts you'll know that I'll be returning to this once the film script is submitted far and wide.

Is it an image like this that puts people off the next book or possibly my writing ability? I'd like to thing it's the former. As soon as you mention it has the undead in it, people (especially girls) begin to turn their noses up.

All I wanted to say was ... ok, ok, it's going to be a book with zombie-esque characters in it but it's ultimately a book about survival and human emotions (God, that sounds boring) but a funny take on human emotions and surviving (now it sounds like an happy clappy self-help novel ... with zombies in it).

Look, all I'm saying is keep the faith. I'm writing it for me as I feel it deals with a lot of issues close to my heart but at the same time has a cracking story (I hope, still working on it) and is (as you would come to expect) a quirky, funny (dare I say HILARIOUS? Probably not) roller coaster of a yarn.

So don't be put off if you don't like zombies. It's going to be better written than anything I've done before, more amusing than 12 Months and Worlds Apart combined, have great characters, cracking storyline and leave you wishing the zombies would never end. This is going to be the last book before the snowball topples down the mountain side and really starts to gather momentum. I can feel it. You have been warned.

This is great. I'm actually receiving emails badgering me for updates. I never knew you cared.

Well my faithful followers (I don't think we'll need more than a pipe of Pringles for the catering for the first fan club meeting), my apologies for the lack of info. To use the words of my Mother-in-Law, I've had a touch of paralysis by analysis. I am formulating a plan however and it goes a little something like this.

I'm very close to finishing the second draft of the screenplay. I will then be sending it to Fluid Eye Productions (aka Doug who used to take my scriptwriting course - http://www.fluideyeproductions.co.uk/) for his keen fluid eye and valued comments. Then, making the changes and adjustments required to get to a final script I'm happy with.

As far as I see it, it's then a case of submitting it to anyone who will listen. The BBC accept submissions (unlike Channel 4, damn you) and I've also found this website, https://www.withoutabox.com/, which lists just about every film festival going on the planet.

It's something I've never really done ... the being patient and submitting things I mean. None of the books have been touted around the circuit as I just feel it's easier and quicker to do the bloody thing myself. So ... watch this space as they say. Won't be long until I actually start submitting things ... to people ... who know what they're talking about (allegedly).

Fingers crossed pleased, oh faithful handful of blog followers!

For those of you worried about the state of my mental health, fear not, for everything happens for a reason.

Take my interrupted sleep last night for example and this is true ... I woke up and wondered "whatever happened to the baby pictured on the front of Nevermind by Nirvana?" The album was released in 1991 so he'd now be 18 years old and I wondered if he boasted through High School about who he was or whether he had kept it a secret.

Well today, I found out who he was/is. His name is Spencer Elden, the son of the photographer's friend Rick Elden. It also transpires that Spencer Elden went onto appear on the cover of a cEvin Key (pronounced "Kevin Key") album in 2003.

And the pseudonym of cEvin Key??? ... Kevin William Crompton.

Following my last post I have nothing to report other than the "Making of Pinstripe" out-takes have been posted on YouTube and I'm fit and well after my annual colonoscopy.

Flew down to Bournemouth this morning to see my Mum (and watch Bournemouth v Spurs) and was amazed how much crap Ryanair can peddle in a one hour flight. Maybe I just noticed it more because we were on an early morning flight (not helped with not getting to sleep until 1.30am cus Gemma was finishing her article and then were up at 5.30am to get our flight) but, bloody hell, I was ready to wrestle the intercom off them and rip it out of the wall.

First of all we had the usual safety briefing, which I heard but didn't watch due to the fact I was trying to get some well needed kip. Then once the seatbelt lights had been turned off and I was just nodding nicely off to sleep we get the announcement over the tannoy that the cabin crew will be mincing up and down the aisle with the menu cards and went on to describe the majority of the items on the bloody menu (I recall frothy cappuccino, panninis etc etc). So up and down the aisle they mince asking every 2nd person, "menu cards? menu cards?" Once that was all over I settled my head on my hand once more in order to get some rest only for the tannoy to strike up again to announce that the cabin crew would now be circulating through the cabin with the inflight magazine which had a list of an exciting array of duty free items in the back. So up and down they strode again "In flight magazine? In flight magazine?" You expect these things when you go on a flight to a certain extent but it just went on and on ... and on. We were asked if we wanted to purchase Ryanair scratch cards with the chance to win thousands of fantastic prizes including a car and flight vouchers, Ryanair phone cards which could be used all over Europe or as a top to you mobile with a low call charge of only 6 cents per minute, we then had the tea trolley offering the delights from the menu (twice), and then a selection of perfumes from the duty free ... all announced on the tannoy and all involving the cabin crew mincing up and down the aisle trying to peddle their wares on a captive, albeit half-asleep audience.

I make that 7 times up and down the aisle (10 if you include 1 x collecting the menu cards, 1 x collecting the in-flight magazine and 1 x collecting the rubbish) which when you consider the flight is an hour and it's 15 mins before the seatbelt light goes off and 15mins before landing it comes back on again, that's somebody up and down the aisle ... and a bloody announcement every 3 to 5 minutes.

Further insult to injury is inflicted with the proficiency of the announcements. I'm all for foreigners practising their English but I wish they wouldn't do it (a) on a public address system, (b) when I'm trying to get some sleep and (c) when I have no-where to escape to.

So no Ryanair, I don't want any of your perfume however cheap, or coffee however expensive or any other crap that you might want to try and fob onto me whilst I'm at your mercy.

So I've now arrived in Poole having missed the hourly courtesy bus from the airport by 5 minutes and having to pay £25 for a taxi.

Nothing much to report at the mo although I have planned my objectives for the next 6 months.

1) Edit the Digging Deeper film script and submit to film type people. Receive rejections. Repeat process as required.

2) Whilst submitting film and waiting for rejections ... continue to write new novel (which I originally said would be out in the Autumn ... no chance)

3) If I get bored doing (1) or (2), have a go at actually writing the sit-com I've loosely come up with or writing the fighting fantasy book.

Do this whilst selling our current house, looking for a new house somewhere between Bath and Aberdeen (we've narrowed down the search parameters considerably), holding down a full-time job in a volatile construction industry and getting organised for G&H's wedding in France in August.

We also have tickets for the tattoo in Edinburgh next month and I'm looking to get tickets for U2 in Glasgow and A Band Called Quinn (if they're playing in the area any time soon).

Oh ... and I've signed up for twitter (not sure why) as THELEECROMPTON. Lee Crompton was "taken" but when you do a search for Lee Crompton, nothing comes up so I'm not quite sure how that works. They obviously heard I was coming.

Toodle Pip!

Just a quick snap shot of me as Mr Murray in the wonderful "Pinstripe".

Please notice that besides wearing John Gallagher's clothes (including his watch although I provided my own socks and undergarments) I'm also wearing my wedding ring. I didn't wear it during the film as I thought Mr Murray was too much of a c%ck to actually have a wife.

Also, if you pay close attention to the film you will see the boom come into shot as I walk along the underpass and that in the first scene I'm holding the cup in my right hand and then later on drop it from my left hand. Also, the furry boom makes a brief appearance in the close up of my feet walking.

In the outtakes Drew noticed that in one scene Ben holds the clapperboard too close to the camera and all you can see is the "tripe" of "Pinstripe". Enough said.

You know me, I love boy bands and wearing silly hats so I jumped at the chance to combine my two passions and went to see Take That last night at Hampden Park.

It is with regret that I reluctantly inform you it was actually very good ... well the show was and you kinda knew all the songs although it was an effort to hear Gary and the boys singing at some points over the incessant screeching of the permatanned, 30-something divorcees.

That said, a ruddy good show although I was mildly looking forward to seeing James Morrison in action (who was supporting) and whilst he was ok, he came across as a bit of a c%ck (and had an earring ... not good).

So, if you like large elephants and performing clowns (aka the audience and the Take That boys) then I suggest you get a ticket to the Take That circus.

Thought I'd include my response to a guy who is doing an article into whether or not the media is sesationalist when it comes to cancer and the possible causes.

Read your post on facebook and thought I'd drop you a line for what it's worth.

I think the coverage in the media is sensationalist ... stark warnings that eating X can cause cancer and eating Y increases your chances of having cancer in later life. While there are some very good guidelines suggesting what is good and bad, the media tends to portray this in a very narrow minded way. And the outcome? Do less people eat X & Y? I'm not sure it has a great effect overall although having said that I have heard some stories to the reverse. When the media come out and say eating X or Y can severely decrease your chances of getting cancer, the shops seems to sell out overnight.

The media want a headline story. Take Jade Goody for example. Whilst I think Jade Goody's sad plight did more for cancer awareness than many campaigns put together, the media, rather than taking this opportunity to help raise awareness with facts and advice or what you should do if you have specific symptoms, channel their energy on seemingly wanting to make Jade the next Princess Diana.

I have a personal interest in Bowel Cancer. My Dad died 12 months ago at the age of 55. Did he die of Bowel Cancer? Technically no. Having been initially diagnosed, had his operation in October 07 and went onto to complete 6 months chemotherapy. He was delighted to have been accepted for a trial drug programme which he had administered for 6 months on his "week off" from the main chemo drug. He battled through the treatment very positively and had booked to fly to Spain to get some sun on his back on the Saturday 31st May 2008. He finished his treatment on the previous Tuesday and had his lines taken out. He got the all clear on the Thursday, technically therefore having beaten cancer for the time being at least, only to drop down dead on the Friday with a massive pulmonary embolism.

I didn't know much about cancer until my Dad was diagnosed. I wish I still lived in ignorance in a way. I wouldn't then have had to be told that he had contracted the disease. I wouldn't have had to see the pain and distress he was in after his operation when the epidural giving him morphine became misplaced in his back and couldn't be repositioned ... or the problems he had with getting a line into his arm which resulted in having to have the chemo tubes stitched through his chest. So did he die from eating too much red meat or excessive amounts of salt? I don't know but I'd be more interested in knowing whether the trial drug had something to do with his death, or more research into whether or not chemotherapy should be combined with blood thinning drugs. I'm no expert but as far as I understand, chemotherapy can increase the risk of blood clots, Deep Vein Thrombosis, Pulmonary Embolus which is exactly what killed my Dad. So whilst I agree prevention is better than cure, instead of scaring people into avoiding eating red meat or too much salt, I'd rather know if blood thinning drugs would be beneficial to chemo patients (they seem to use them more frequently in the States but not so much over here) and what exactly was in the trial drug and did that in some way help or hinder my dad's predicament. Furthermore, should my dad's dose of chemo been reduced on the basis he's lost nearly 3 stone in weight since the beginning of his treatment.

Here's an excerpt from the Cancer Research website (admittedly for lung cancer)

There is a trial to find out if blood thinning drugs can improve treatment for lung cancer. Blood clots are quite common in people who have lung cancer. And cancer treatment can increase the risk of blood clots. Dalteparin is a blood thinning drug (anticoagulant), also called Fragmin. It is used to prevent and treat blood clots. Doctors think that dalteparin may also affect how cancer cells spread through the bloodstream, but they don't know for sure. So this trial is giving dalteparin alongside standard treatment for lung cancer to see if it reduces the number of blood clots people get. And to see if it can help to stop cancer cells spreading through the bloodstream to other parts of the body.

If you search for "blood chemo thinning" in Google there are numerous articles arguing the pros and cons of such drugs and whether they should be used in tandem with chemotherapy treatment.

Anyway, I don't know whether this is what you were after or not (but feel better for getting it off my chest all the same). I guess in summary, would I rather we were told to eat less red meat or given some hard facts about the reality of cancer and the effects it has on people's lives. I don't suppose I need to answer that. Is the media sensationalist? Well, what gets more coverage ... bowel cancer, the 2nd biggest cancer killer in the UK, or the far more sexy breast cancer?

I should make it quite clear I have nothing against Jade Goody or the good that breast cancer charities do. In my opinion though, it's a bit like the red meat issue ... let's get it into proportion and everything in moderation.

For this years entry into the Edinburgh 48 hour Film Challenge, we were required to include the following elements.

The prop - A screwdriver

The line of dialogue - "That's the first I've heard of it."

The character - Michael Murray (city worker)

And the genre we pulled out was suspense/thriller (although with the amount of fun we had making, comedy would have been more appropriate).

Usual rules apply, 48 hours to write, shoot and edit it. Special thanks to everyone who got involved, to Sam for organising the event once again and Jason Quinn/A Band Called Quinn for the music.

So, the weekend of the 3 peaks challenge. I'm now wondering why I didn't read the initial description more intently from the outset.

"The 3 Peaks Challenge is Britain’s classic hill walking challenge with climbers attempting to climb the highest mountains in Scotland, England and Wales in only 24 hours. Tackling Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon, participants will take on this physically and mentally demanding challenge in support of Bowel Cancer UK.

The event will see participants climb over 11,000 feet, travel 500 miles and be exposed to the elements as they aim to beat the clock to complete this incredible challenge – including snow on Ben Nevis."

Reading this after the event, it makes more sense, but still doesn't go any way to describing the magnitude of the challenge. Little did we know, when the mini-bus picked us up from Central Station in Glasgow at 3pm on Friday, what lay ahead.

We arrived at Ben Nevis at around 6.30pm and following a hearty meal and a pint, we headed to the Salvation Army base for a team briefing. Only then did John and I realise how far out of our depth we were. Everyone looked much fitter and "up for it" than us. Appearances can be deceptive but our intuition was confirmed as they asked for a show of hands from the people who had climbed Ben Nevis before. 75% of people raised their arms ... and again for Scafell ... and again for Snowdon. John and I were, I think, the only people who didn't put our hands up for any of them. A handful of the 35 climbers for this Bowel Cancer UK event had even done the 3 peaks challenge before. In my humble opinion this doesn't make them much fitter than us or more "up for it", it just makes them bloody stupid for doing it again.

In hindsight though, it makes more sense hill walkers would sign up for an extreme hill walking challenge. I somehow imagined it would be a mixture of people of varying abilities who wanted to raise money for charity but thinking about it, if there was a charity cycle ride from Lands End to John O'Groats, you would reasonably expect keen cyclists to sign up. John and I whose furthest jaunt prior to 3 months ago had been to the corner shop started to wonder what the bloody hell we were doing there.

The event organisers then drilled home just what we were setting out to do and the perils that lay ahead. I can't remember anything specifically in the briefing that made me uncomfortable but I became increasingly nervous throughout. They finished the meeting by telling us that some people wouldn't make it. These were normally people who had re-occurring knee and ankle injuries. Maybe people who hadn't disclosed such problems from the outset but people who were nonetheless doing both themselves, together with the team-mates who would be majorly disrupted by anyone in their group having an injury and needing to be helicoptered off, a severe disservice. For those of you who know me, you'll know I've had dodgy ankles for years having torn the ligaments in them numerous times. Luckily, I had John with me and any concern I may have had was focussed on him as he's had not one but two cruciate ligament operations on his knee and was advised by his doctor only a couple of weeks ago not to take part in the challenge.

We were then split into teams of 8 or 9 and a team leader assigned by the event organiser for Bowel Cancer UK, Jock Wright. John and I knew who our team leader would be before the words "Lee Crompton" escaped Jock's lips. I was responsible for looking after the mountain packs, issuing the kit to members of the team to carry (2 x emergency shelters, maps, compasses, first aid kits etc) and giving/collecting the GPS equipment, sat phones and walkie talkies to the three individual guides on each peak. There are 3 schools of thought as to why I was picked as team leader. Firstly, it may have been a reward for raising the most money. Bowel Cancer UK's fund raising total for the event was £19,500. They raised circa £22,000 ... of which John and I alone contributed over £5000, just over £6,000 if you include Gift Aid. I'm not sure if the BCUK total included Gift Aid (sometime they seem to, others not) but either way, it's a truck load of money.
I may have equally been earmarked as team leader as punishment for my Mum's complaint letter. She (like an embarrassing parent, although her heart was in the right place) wrote an email outlining her grave disappointment that 3 Peakers were having to spend the night before the challenge in a tent after BCUK failed to put down the deposit on the accommodation in time and that with a week to go, fund-raisers were being asked if they knew anyone who could drive the buses as they didn't have any drivers.
The third reason may have been, in the words of John Gallagher, because I was "bosom email buddies" with Jock Wright. I'd like to think it was the first one.

Either way, having had the shits put right up us, it was time to seek out our aforementioned accommodation for the night. Please refer to pictures 1 & 2. Our tents were allegedly 3 man tents, just about big enough for both John and I to fit into. After sorting out our kit, searching the camp site for somewhere we could buy booze and discovering there wasn't anywhere, we had a wee nip from the hip flask and settled into our new home at around 10.30pm. I tried to get some sleep with my T-shirt up over my nose after John had saved his eggiest fart until we had zipped the tent up although the act of sleep proved very difficult due to the smell, John's general fidgeting and him prodding me every five minutes to ask if I was asleep yet.

The alarm on my mobile phone rang at 5.20am. It was then back to the Salvation Army for a porridge breakfast and collection of our packed lunch at 6am before returning to the base of Ben Nevis for the start of our challenge. The 24 hour clock started at 7.11am.

START CHALLENGE : 7.11am Saturday 30th May 2009

I would now like to draw your attention to picture 5. Yes, I'm fully aware I look like a cock and just in case I wasn't fully aware, John was sure to remind me every 5 minutes. This was however taken later in the day than the pictures would suggest. There is a reason for this, our mountain guide was a bigger knob than me ... if I'm not making much sense, hopefully all will become clear.

Our guide was a former Canadian marine and what started as a gruelling challenge for charity quickly turned into an SAS training morning as the bastard pushed us to the summit in 3.5 hours. Even when we were walking on the flat at the foot of the mountain, I leaned over to John and said "we're setting out on a hell of a pace here aren't we?" to which, surprisingly, John agreed. For anyone who knows Ben Nevis, the first stint is pretty intense and I don't mind holding my hands up and saying I was struggling, so much so that Mr Army Marine threatened to demote me to the group behind unless I got my act together. I plodded on, and with a measly two 5 minute breaks on the total ascent, we reached the top of the highest peak in the land.

I can now explain that the photographs are actually showing out of sequence. Under the former marines (aka Nazis) regime, we didn't have time to take photographs on the way up so yes, whilst I agree I look like an idiot, this was actually taken during the descent and I'd been climbing a mountain for about 6 hours in the blazing sunshine and was concerned my baldy heed would get burnt. Why did I have time on the way down to take pictures I hear you cry? Well, everyone else who has happily keeping up with the horrendous pace on the way up, was knackered by the time they got to the top and we had to keep stopping every 20 to 30 minutes as people were out of puff. Therefore I had plenty of time to snap some shots on the way down (which for the purposes of the photographic montage have arranged to look as though it was on the way up). 6.5 hours we took in total, only half an hour quicker going down the bloody thing than we were going up.

The last stint was a bit of a slog also, ankle deep in snow in places, the final ascent was similar to climbing up a sand dune. Needless to say I cried when I got to the top. John gave me a manly cuddle, then I cried some more. I wasn't particularly physically drained at this point (in comparison with later points in the weekend). The emotions of the day got to me though ... the reasons we were doing it, thoughts that I really wasn't going to make it within the first hour of the climb and how the bloody hell I was going to survive another 2. All of these things played their part but what actually started me off was thinking of Dad whilst listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie on Gemma's iPod Shuffle as we climbed the last bit through the snow. In some freakish way, when all I could hear was the music coupled with the snowy sights around, the lyrics somehow had some weird meaning, some hidden message between me and my Dad and I can't really explain it rationally but if you listen to the lyrics, maybe you'll understand (but maybe not). Anyway, I cried. From here on in it's officially known as the 3 Weeps Challenge. 2 more to come.

I'll finish off Ben Nevis by drawing your attention to photo 30 which inadvertently includes the overweight man in his 50's, with only a skimpy pair of black shorts and a bum bag to cover his modesty, who passed us running up in the snow and in this picture was passing us again as he ran back down. Bonkers!

I should also mention a couple of things that John will be dining out on for months to come. The ex-marine Nazi allegedly said to John shortly after we had set out that he should slow down as he was demoralising the rest of the group with his pace. My particular favourite though is when he looked John up and down when we came off the mountain and said, "you're a lot fitter than you look."

END NEVIS : 1.41pm Saturday 30th May 2009

Finished peak 1, everyone back to the salvation army to pick up our soup and pasta to eat on the bus on the way to Scafell Pike. We also had a bag with our packed lunch in it for the next peak. It then dawned on me that we were supposed to have taken the previous packed lunch up Ben Nevis with us, so I now had 2 ... not that any of us would have been able to eat it anyway as the climbing Nazi wouldn't allow us to stop for any time longer than it takes to scoff a sneaky Mars bar.

Please now refer to pictures 31, 32 and 33. These are photos of a Vauxhall inconveniently exploding on the hard shoulder, the emergency services arriving on the scene literally seconds before we did and shutting the motorway. We were stuck for around forty minutes until it was safe to pass. Factoring in the weird way in which we travelled from Ben Nevis to Scafell (via Norwich from what I could tell) on a mini-bus which was restricted to a maximum of 60 mph and the result was we didn't start the next peak until 8pm, some 6 hours and 20 mins after we'd finished Ben Nevis.

START SCAFELL : 8pm Saturday 30th May 2009

I don't know where to begin with this one. It's a catalogue of disasters. I started in fine spirits and with the recovery time on the bus my muscles were feeling much better, ready to charge at Scafell Pike. The problem was, we were now (somehow) 2 hours behind schedule. We needed to complete Scafell Pike in 3 hours to get back on track, but had 2 hours less daylight to do it in. Rather than getting to the top for dusk, we were now in complete darkness by around 10pm.

Please read the following extract from the wonderful Wikipedia:

"The ascent of the Pike is most often attempted from Wasdale Head. This is at the north end of Wastwater to the west of the Pike, and is at about 80 metres above sea level. On summer weekends, crowds of people can be found attempting this steep but straightforward walk. An alternative ascent from Wasdale approaches up a hanging valley whose head is at Mickledore, which is itself ascended, before following the path from Sca Fell to the Pike.
A more taxing, but scenically far superior, approach begins at Seathwaite Farm at the end of Borrowdale, proceeding via Styhead Tarn, then taking the Corridor Route (formerly known as the Guides Route), a delightful walk along the western flank of the Sca Fell massif with intimate views of the mountain, before joining the route from Wasdale near the summit."

Now, considering the impending darkness, which route do you think we took ... the more leasurley tourist route or the "more taxing but scenically far superior" route from Seathwaite Farm? Yip, you've guessed it. Please pay particular attention to pictures 44 to 48 showing just how scenically far superior it really was.

Here's another snippet on Scafell from mountainwalk.co.uk.

"To walk up Scafell Pike involves clambering over a lot of boulders. Hiking poles are a distinct advantage and can help you avoid getting broken and twisted ankles."

Walking poles are particularly useful when coming down as they take the pressure off your knees. Imagine my delight therefore when one of my walking poles snapped in half just before reaching the summit. Also, unfortunately for me, I'd had a bit of 'rubbing trouble' with my boots on Nevis and so to avoid taking myself out of the running with potential blisters, I opted for my walking trainers. Scafell Pike being very stony and the bottom of my trainers being much less rigid than my boots, the soles of my feet took a bit of a pasting.

Add to that my head torch which, when required, gave out about as much light as ... well I may have well have sellotaped a glow-worm to my forehead for all the good it was. Fumbling around on a mountainside for hours on end when you can't see your feet isn't much fun, let me tell you.
A couple of our group began to complain about the difficulty of the climb. There were sections where we were traversing across rocks, in the dark, no wider than our feet with a sheer rock face one side of us and 150 foot drop the other. One of the last sections to the summit was up 45 degrees of scree which was the equivalent of scrambling through treacle, every foothold giving way, sending stones and shale on the person behind. In all honesty, I probably enjoyed this bit the most as it was a real adventure but I could see their point. For a bunch of amateur walkers it was probably a bit too much to expect us to do this in the dark. With all these things, it's all ok until something goes wrong and I'm sure if anything had happened to any of us, questions would have been asked of the event organisers about what the bloody hell we were doing up there in the dead of night.

On reaching the summit, in a respectable 3.5 hours, we then had to make our way back down. The guide got us lost at one point which meant we had to go back up again for a while to re-find the trail. John took a bad tumble about half way down and jarred his knee and I honestly thought it was curtains for him but he soldiered on like the trooper he is. The descent seemed to take forever. By the time we returned to the farm, some 8 hours after we'd started, we were like a group of zombies staggering off the hillside. It was 4am when we'd finished Scafell, 14.5 hours of hiking and 21 hours after we'd started Ben Nevis on Saturday morning. I was completely done for, nothing left in the tank whatsoever.

The cold take-away dinner we were then served did nothing to perk me up, the chicken curry, peas and carrots having had 4 hours to cool from when it had initially been ready.

I was ready to chuck it in. I looked at John and he shook his head, uttering the words (not for the first time) "f**k you, Crompton" as we hauled ourselves back on the mini-bus.

It was at this point I could utterly relate to Steve Redgrave and his, 'if anyone sees me go anywhere near a boat again, you have my permission to shoot me.' after winning his fourth Olympic gold medal at Atlanta in July 1996. Whilst I'm not suggesting for one minute our achievement was anywhere near the magnitude of Sir Steve's, I can honestly say I could relate to exactly what he meant. It's all relative. His 4 golds was our 2 peaks. I have never hurt so much physically and emotionally as much as I did after finishing Scafell. I felt dizzy, nauseous and ached as if I had the flu. If was awful. So yeah, Steve, I can see exactly where you're coming from on that one but then you went on to win gold for the fifth time at the Australian Olympics in 2000. It's at this point I would like to say, if anyone DOES ever see me with a walking pole in my hand or strapping on my boots ever again, they really DO have my permission to shoot me, preferably one clean shot to the head.

END SCAFELL : 4am Sunday 31st May 2009

We learnt on the bus that one of the other groups had turned back on reaching the scree, considering it too dangerous to continue. John and I discussed chucking it in, both of us completely exhausted and him now suffering with his knee. By the time we got to Snowdon, Gemma and Julie who had travelled to Wales to pick us up when we finished the challenge, were already there.

START SNOWDON : 9.30am Sunday 31st May 2009

Part 2 of the 3 weeps occurred when we reached Snowdon, hobbled off the mini-bus and I saw Gemma's smiling face. If we hadn't raised so much money for Bowel cancer UK I can say without a shadow of a doubt we'd have both thrown our kit in the back of the car and driven back to Scotland. Whereas my legs had recovered a fair bit on the trip from Nevis to Scafell, having completed 2 of the peaks and got very little sleep in the previous 26 hours (not including the crap nights kip in the tent on the Friday night) I was in no better physical condition when I reached Snowdon than when I left Scafell. But between us, we'd raised a staggering amount if money. After all the effort everyone had put in to raise the cash, all the texts of encouragement and messages of support, I couldn't imagine telling people I hadn't done it. Doing it in 24 hours was long gone and BCUK are subsequently re-thinking the event for next year. Even one of the independent groups in their own car didn't make in within allotted time. I somehow felt I'd be cheating people if I didn't at least give it a go, and so ... spurred on by Gemma and Julie, we got our kit ready and made our way up Snowdon.

There's not much to say about Snowdon really. I don't remember too much about it other than it being a slow slog in blazing sunshine and weeping uncontrollably when John and I sat on the grass next to the summit. I couldn't tell you how long we'd taken to complete the 3 peaks, time didn't seem to matter. All we knew was that somehow (and both of us are still not sure quite how) we managed to climb the highest peaks in Scotland, England and Wales in around 28-29 hours.

I hope nobody feels cheated that we didn't complete the challenge in the 24 hours and the fact we caught the train from halfway down Snowdon. The challenge was to climb the 3 peaks in a day, the clock starting at the bottom of Nevis and stopping at the summit of Snowdon and I can say from the bottom of my heart that we both gave it our all. Did I feel a sense of achievement at the top of any of the peaks? Not really. When I've been doing the training walks on my own I did get a sense of satisfaction from conquering what I'd set out to do and I guess the difference is, you get to the top of Nevis and Scafell and know you haven't finished what you started and still have much more to do. By the time we reached the summit of Snowdon I had a mixture of emotions but none of them were what I would call achievement or satisfaction, more disbelief and relief. I thought a lot about Dad, why we had set out to do the challenge and the enormous effort everyone had gone to to help raise money, but by then, I just wanted to go home. We'd somehow made it where others had failed. Adding together the bus load who turned back at Scafell and a couple of other injuries, a dozen or so never made the challenge and only one of the independent car groups actually managed it in the 24 hours. All in all, although the result wasn't exactly what we'd set out to achieve, it wasn't a bad effort.

When we got to the bottom, people were asking if we enjoyed ourselves. "You had a great time though, eh?" And I answered, quite categorically, "NO!"

It was quite possibly the worst weekend of my life. Physical exhaustion, mental exhaustion, the kind of extreme discomfort that won't go away no matter which way you twist and turn ... sleep deprivation not to mention having to share a tent with John, is not my idea of fun and I hope I never have to go through anything like it again. I've decided I don't like hill walking. I don't see the point. Why anyone would want to look at a hill and think, "you know what, I fancy walking up that," is beyond me ... unless ... perhaps, you wanted a pleasurable walk on a nice day, at your own pace where you could stop for a drink and a sandwich when you wanted to and take some nice pictures of the views. I could maybe ... just maybe understand that. But there is absolutely nothing pleasurable about climbing 3 mountains in a day (2 in sweltering heat and 1 in the dark) at a frantic pace with a group of strangers who all want to stop at different times, both on the mountain and in a mini-bus that is restricted to 60 mph. Not to mention, because of the scorching weather, thousands of other people decided to have a jaunt up Snowdon and Ben Nevis as well so rather than being a reflective solitude of mountainous wasteland, when you added Joe Public to the other hundreds of people climbing for various charities, the peaks were mobbed.

The only pleasure I gained from it all was from completing the challenge with John on Dad's anniversary and raising so much money for Bowel Cancer UK. I'd like to thank everyone for their support over the last couple of months, their generous donations and messages of encouragement on the day. It meant a great deal and I'm only sorry I didn't have chance to get back to everyone but hope you appreciate after reading this that it was absolute bedlam and chaos.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Together we raised a shed load of money for a very could cause but as for hill walking ever again ... £u*k that!

News hot off the press ... last years entry into the Edinburgh 48hour film Frenzy, Roberta Darling's Recipe for Success has been selected to be shown at this years Leith Film Festival.

I've managed to cobble together another merry band of epic film makers for Edinburgh 48hr 2009.

It all happens this weekend so watch this space!

Sorry for lack of updates. Been a bit manic of late but with only 2 weeks to go, I've been keeping up the training.

Last weekend I went up the Cobbler and was at the peak (circa 880m) within 2 hours.

Part of what kept me going were a very fit couple of women ahead of me. I tried to keep up but they were out of sight, which was a shame as the one with the long blonde hair had a cracking arse on her, accentuated by her tight walking trousers. I pushed on to try and keep up and eventually got level with them as the blonde took off her fleece. It was then that it occurred to me that she had a very deep voice for a woman and as she took off her fleece and shook her golden locks ... I realised it was a man.

Still, could be worse. I could be James Hughes who made comment on a women they were following in Bournemouth Gardens, cracker she was apparently and was saying what he's like to do to her, only to find out as they got nearer, it was his sister.

In other news, last night saw the start of our very own "Come Dine With Me". It's one thing doing it with strangers but I'm not convinced it's a particually good idea unless you're keen to fall out with your friends and partners. Anyway, everyone else was very excited and so I've been over-ruled. First up ... Gemma with a menu as follows (as presented by her on the night).

Fizz & Nibbles

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Onion Bisque with Chilli Oil

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Crispy & sticky Chicken with New Potatoes & Tomatoes, with a Butternut Squash & Red Onion Salad

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White Chocolate & Raspberry Tart with Vanilla Ice Cream

The results were put in a sealed envelope and will be opened on the final night to see who out of the six of us (Gemma, me, Pete, Morag, Heather and Al) will be crowned champion. Unfortunately there's no £1000 to win! Next up, Pete (who allegedly reads this blog)

Naughty me has not been walking for a while (other things have got in the way) but I still haven't got around to posting my epic ... so here it is.

"Hardcore walking/climbing. Managed to do 2 munroes in a day with a total ascent of 1550m (compared with a total ascent on Ben Nevis of 1370m).

Now, I've had a bit of stick regarding my previous comments on the hillocks of Dorset but my legs would like the chance to have their say. Firstly, the facts.

"A Munro is a Scottish mountain with a height over 3,000 ft (910 m). They are named after Sir Hugh Munro (1856–1919), who produced the first compilation of a catalogue of such hills, known as Munro's Tables, in 1891."

As previously stated, Swyre Head in Dorset is the highest peak in the Purbecks at 203m which
qualifies it as a "Marilyn". A Marilyn is basically a piss take of a Scottish munroe. To qualify, the summit needs to be over 150m.

Now, I'm not being funny, but 150m???? Dorset doesn't know shit from pudding when it comes to peaks. FACT!

So yes, a great day, great views, 1550m ascent, 14km & 7 hours hiking but slightly disconcerting when you're looking DOWN on the mountain rescue helicopter."

Dorset is sadly lacking in mountains so we picked a coastal walk from the "hard" section of the book. 8.5 miles/ 13.5km - Trig point 666 feet

"Swyre Head is the highest point of the Purbeck Hills and the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset, on the south coast of England. Although not very high, its relative height is such that it qualifies as a Marilyn. The chalk hill is part of the extensive Southern England Chalk Formation.The hill commands extensive views, including west past the Isle of Portland to Dartmoor, and east to the Isle of Wight, as well as north across the Purbeck Hills to Poole Harbour and the other Purbeck Marilyn, Nine Barrow Down. To the west, the folly of Clavell Tower can also be seen.Set back about 800 metres (half a mile) from the coast, the hill is not on the South West Coast Path, but can be reached easily from the villages of Kingston or Kimmeridge.The hill has a trig point marked as 203 metres on Ordnance Survey maps, but a tumulus, now fully grassed over, forms the highest point, 208 metres above sea level."

Book says walk should take 5 hours. We managed it in just over 3.5. BLAM! Take that, Dorset.

Just some of the images from the Ben Lomond Climb ...

Latest Headlines Kidderminster Shuttle. I hate to say it, but another piece of publicity which has had absolutely no effect on increasing donations (or book sales).

Lee’s novel idea to boost charity close to his heart

Friday 27th March 2009

By Adam Burling »

AN AUTHOR who grew up in Kidderminster is giving people the chance to be named as a character in his new book.

In return for a £3 donation to Bowel Cancer UK, Lee Crompton is asking people to put their names in forward, with the first four names out of the hat being included in the novel.
The book, due for publication in the autumn, has not been named yet but Lee hopes plenty of people will get involved.

“I’ve met so many people who have said they would love to be in a book, so I thought the idea would be a fun way to raise money for charity,” he said.

Lee’s previous novel was the thriller Digging Deep, released in 2007, a change in direction from the humorous tone of his other books, 12 Months and Worlds Apart.

Born in Bromsgrove, Lee’s family lived in Woodfield Crescent, Kidderminster until he was six, before moving to the south coast.

He made return visits to Wyre Forest in subsequent years during holiday times to visit relatives. Lee was inspired to start raising cash for the charity after his father, Edward Crompton, died of bowel cancer last May, aged 55.

“It was a complete shock to everyone,” explained Lee. “To lose your father is hard enough but especially when he had remained so positive throughout his treatment and was so looking forward to my stag do and wedding day.”

He also faces the “toughest challenge of his life” in May when he will be taking part in the Three Peaks Challenge. He will attempt to climb Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon – the highest peaks in England, Wales and Scotland – within 24 hours.

“It’s not something I would normally dream of doing,” he said. You can sponsor Lee by visiting www.justgiving.com/leecromp ton or www.justgiving.com/ leecromptonbook

Just for the record, my last book was not called Digging Deep, I left Kidderminster when I was four and I don't remember saying the 3 peaks was going to be the "toughest challenge of my life" but having climbed Ben Lomond, it's probably not too far from the truth.

Ben Lomond (Scottish Gaelic: Beinn Laomainn, 'Beacon Peak'), 974 metres (3,200 ft), is a mountain in the Scottish Highlands. It is east of Loch Lomond, and is the most southerly of the Munros.

So this was the first munro we conquered, all 974 metres of it. Weather conditions, together with my fitness levels, weren't ideal. It was a struggle to say the least and being hit in the face with hail for half the descent wasn't much fun either. That said, lots of positives (and negatives) to take from the day. Firstly, and most importantly, I managed to complete it, as there were times I thought it was best to give it up as a bad job. Secondly, with my new 1000 mile socks, my boots didn't rub (well, they did, but I didn't get blisters). We also managed to do it at a reasonable pace, 4 and 3 quarter hours up & down.

On the downside, Ben Lomond is still a couple of metres short of the smallest of the 3 peaks on the challenge, Scafell Pike. Having completed, driven for an hour home, watched the Grand National and fallen asleep for 3 hours, I awoke at 8pm feeling as though I had been hit by a bus. In reality, it would be about this time we would be arriving at the next peak to do it all again. I had a job to climb the stairs let alone another peak (followed by another one).

So whilst I'm encouraged by today's feat, there is still a long way to go. Despite going to the gym and completed 3 hill climbs, there is still no way I am in any physical shape to complete the 3 peaks challenge. That said, whilst I feel as utterly shattered as I did when we did walk one to Place Fell some four weeks ago, we've been up (and down) a further 1000 feet today than we were in Cumbria. Encouraging signs but still plenty of work to do.

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)