C L I M B

Then to Mile End, picked up a K. Dogg. Rode about London, like. Then went climbing. I looked up at my friend as she was running me through the ropes. [although there weren't any - we were bouldering with our bare hands, I think I got the fear - or as close to [b]The Fear[/b] as I've ever experienced] . She was like an agile cat, contemplating the route with fierce focused determination; occasional splatters of white raining chalk would cascade down and sprinkle like a floral exhaust of her strong and stoic efforts of defeating gravity with her bare hands. Then it was my turn, and I wasn't very good. Impatient to reach the top, but by dense heavy weight continued to work against me. It was still a thrill though.

And then it really was time for the ropes. And the 50ft high wall. My life in K.Dogg's hands, and hers in mine; this was quite powerful. After I'd clambered all the way to the top I'd look down, I'd say "OK?", she'd say "OK" and I'd abseil down as she slowly released the rope that was being fed through her harness. "Again, again, again!" , and we really did have a good go at it . . .

Lock-in @ a dodgy South London boozer, where I couldn't believe people were smoking [am I that feral] and onto K.Dogg's warehouse, which we were locked out of. Her very nice friend Emily came to the rescue and took us in for the night, at a very exciting warehouse of her own; and there I was lucky enough to sleep with a cat on my lap, aching arms to boot.