Monday, March 30, 2009
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.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
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!
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.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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!
Monday, March 23, 2009
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)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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.
Monday, March 16, 2009
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.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
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/