7.45 am the alarm nearly ruptures my skull as Radio 1's finest do their best to tap dance on my synapses, perhaps that second bottle of Monkey Wrench 8% wasn't such a good idea after all. (Mainly because it led me to opening the whole crate of 12), bleah.
Hearing the postie's van outside suddenly focuses my mind and I dive out of bed scrabbling to pull on a pair of trousers. Dashing downstairs I get to the door before the bell rings, phew that was a close one. I blearily sign for the package and notice postie eyeing me up and down rather suspiciously, it's only when I shut the door do I notice instead of trousers I've put on my Cragdope 'Hamstershell XR' jacket. Shrugging I do up the zip because it's getting a bit parkie down there.
I have to tip toe gingerly into the front room, trying to avoid the 12 empty bottles of Monkey Fart 9% laid out in a pretty convincing scale replica of the Stonehenge Sarsen stones. Placing my parcel on the floor I can hear the stirrings of her upstairs, "Was that someone at the door?" followed by her footsteps coming down the stairs. Wildly I take the only sane course of action and open the window pick up the parcel and chuck it outside, just in time too because as I turn round to face the door with an innocent expression she enters the room and eyes me suspiciously, "It's a bit chilly to be opening the window isn't it", "Err, just freshening the place up dear, I decided to get a curry after the pub. Thought I'd line my stomach before tackling some of Eamonn's Monkey Face 10% homebrew". Right on cue and as predicted she rolls her eyes and goes into auto-scold mode, "What time did you come to bed last night... you've been on that forum again... you look awful....". Ah thats better she's well off the scent now, let her get on with it and I'll get a brew going, note to self: looks like its starting to rain must get that parcel soon.
Halfway through brekkie, Stammer Harris rings up sounding a wee bit worked up, "Gib, ccccccoooldddd youuu get roooound heeeeeeerrrreee (right I'll stop that and give you the edited pc version), Si can't make it to the Peak and I haven't got anyone else to belay me. The weather's supposed to be cracking there and I'm desperate to bag 'Flying Penguin' before one of those Sheff bozoz's steals the line." Well a friend in need is a pain in the arse but Stammer normally compensates his belay with the best hash North of Marakesch, so it's an easy call. I quickly swipe a couple of bananas and sneak upstairs.
I have to run the taps in the bathroom full blast so she can't hear me packing my gear and I exit swiftly via the velux window and down and over next doors retroVictorian-mock georgian conservatory, what with the anti-vandal paint and razor wire never mind the pis*ing rain it's gotta be V3. Harris looks abit bemused as I turn up "Can't you find any cecks round yours then, here have a pair of these." He's gotta be kidding me, "I ain't wearing no fekin Ron Hills mate, I do have principals you know!"
"Well your not coming with me wearing your jacket like that!"
Ah, well sometimes we have to swallow our pride. Which reminds me, on the M62 and well out of retribution range I had to ring her up and explain that I'd be away for a couple of days. That didn't go down too well, seeing as we were supposed to be going to see the councillor that afternoon, sounded like they had plenty to talk about without me there though. Then she hit's me with her killer blow, "And by the way Gib, on my way back from the councillor I noticed a soggy parcel outside our front window, your down 'Polar Pecker' full underwear body suit is soaked and I've rolled it into a ball and shoved it into a compression sack. £259.99 you must be mad, we are skint you know that, how the bloody hell am I supposed to pay.."..Zzzt" Luckily the M62 tunnel cut out the rest of the rant. Bollox I thought. Harris turned to me in the haze of smoke and passed me one of his finest, "here you go mate looks like you need this."
Buzzing over the Pennines I nod off and fall into a happy dream, the mother in law stumbles down the stairs gets caught in a loop of single 10mm drying over the bannister and garottes herself.
