The photo shows two fathers-in-law and their respective sons-in-law, on top of Causey Pike. That’s me on the left, Paul Moore on the right, and the two Jamies in between. Behind is Skiddaw, and on the right is the wonderful Blencathra, with Keswick and Derwent Water centre right. 

To avoid confusion we call the Jamie standing next to me ‘Cush’, for reasons no one can remember; the other one, Paul’s son-in-law, is known as ‘Tigger’. That’s my fault, I’m afraid – on my daughter Sal’s birthday expedition to Skiddaw last December I likened his bouncing around on the fells to hiking with Tigger, and the nickname seems to have stuck.

Causey Pike was our first peak of the day. We went on to conquer Sail, Crag Hill (formerly Eel Crag) and Grizedale Pike to complete the horseshoe, before dropping down to Braithwaite and a waiting pint in the garden of the Coledale Hotel. About 15 miles in all. And what a day to do it! You expect to come down from the Lake District hills with a few aching muscles, but to collect a sunburned nose in April is an unusual treat.

Maybe the sunshine went to our heads a little. The photo was taken by one of a group of women we met at the top, in a friendly reciprocal arrangement. We earned a right telling-off from them later, when, caught up in the moment, we descended the scree on Eel Crag Tigger style. Made them nervous and threatened their survival on the hills, apparently. Oops.

The next day I joined John for our usual Sunday morning bicycle thrash round the hills of Arnside, Silverdale and Beetham. Twenty-five miles of ups and downs and, funnily enough, I didn’t feel too bad.

21 miles at a reasonably good pace, today. Not too many serious hills, average speed 15.9 mph (just one tenth short of the magic speed of 16mph). 

We were trying to avoid the bank holiday traffic on what we call our standard route, but one car nearly did for us at the finish. Coming back home through Carnforth, positioned for a right turn onto Crag Bank road, an Astra overtook us on the wrong side of the road, against a stream of oncoming traffic and against all common sense. He got to the mini roundabout just ahead of us and, rather than turn right, he promptly did a U-turn and came back onto us. 

I wasn’t in too bad a position – I could see he was a plonker – but John was too trusting and nearly ended up under his front wheels. What a prat. And with wife and kids on board; what on earth could they have been thinking? He was as competent a driver as Mr Pastry was a dancer (showing my age here)…

Where are the police when you need them?

I was pounding the gym equipment last night and today am feeling a little sorry for myself. 

When you get on the machines your mind tends to wander, and I think of all kinds of things. I mentally solve problems at work, or think what I could write here to encourage you to give a bit more cash for my chosen charities…

Money wise, so far we are in the mid-£400s or so. I confess, the motivation behind Wrynose or Bust initially was more about my ego than any desire to raise funds for charity, but now I’ve started this campaign the story has changed and the fund raising has become much more of an issue with me. If you could find a couple of quid to help out some very worthy charities, I would greatly appreciate the support.

So go on, pick a charity. I’ve got four to choose from and paying through the JustGiving system makes everything so easy. It’s also worth noting that if you are a taxpayer, JustGiving can reclaim Gift Aid on your behalf and pass it on to the charity. They take a commission for admin costs, but as an example, a £10 donation is worth  £11.93 to the charity. I don’t think that is too bad at all.

A JustGiving donation also buys you the opportunity to abuse me. Money well spent, I’d say. Although some people have also been kind and encouraging:

‘Of course you can do it’, from Derek Hulse of Lancaster Rotary.

‘Going up in the post van was bad enough, so best of luck’, says Simon (presumably the local postie, bless him).

‘Allez! Allez!’ from Scott Dougall, an old work colleague who I haven’t seen in years.

‘Good luck – I hope you make it. The Lycra really suits you. (One of those statements is a bit of a fib)’, says Tony Wilkinson. ‘Damned cheek,’ says I.

I love the feedback – it’s strangely reassuring. Go on, chip in a quid and have your say – even if it’s only to tell me not to be daft.