Minor and major injuries

We spent the weekend down in Cornwall with my folks – very relaxing. Bash and I attempted to recreate a little adventure I went on one perfect summer’s day when I was 11, tramping across some nearby fields (indeed, trespassing) in search of half-remembered landmarks which might not even be there any more. We didn’t find them, but did have a lovely walk nonetheless.

I bought my brother’s bike from him, and had a wonderful ride in to work yesterday, along the sea front from Mumbles, but perhaps I pushed myself a bit hard… I bent over to lock it up, and stood up again too quickly; I got a head rush, said to my friend Alex “I feel unusual”, and fainted, knocking my head on the top of a low wall on the way down. So now here I sit with a nice butterly stitch on my forehead and a couple of grazes on my cheek/temple area. Kewl. Everyone’s been very sympathetic but really it’s nothing.

It’s especially nothing when compared with breaking your leg on the way down Suila Grande in the Andes, being left for dead in a crevasse, and spending the next four days crawling back to Base Camp in excrutiating pain with Boney M rampaging round your head. But that’s exactly what happened to Joe Simpson, as we discovered last night when we watched Touching The Void at Taliesin. Absolutely fantastic, easily the most gripping movie I’ve seen a long long time, and oh so well filmed. Crackin’ stuff and highly recommended, even if you’re not into climbing.