Sunday climbers

We rose late, and spent the morning problem-solving and having brunch. Eventually we thought we'd better get out and enjoy the lovely weather, so we went back to the allotment, this time driving instead of taking the ferry. The other owner was there with her three children, who pottered around and played with Mari, while we sat in the sun and admired Karin's bramble-removing skills. I didn't go as far getting sunburn, but the sun was certainly unseasonably warm.

Afterwards we drove to the university District, to the climbing centre. It looks brand new and purpose built, with an outdoor climbing wall. The idea was that Kim could see the place, decide whether she wanted to book a taster session or basic course, and get Mari signed up for Easter holiday activities. There was also another idea that I could belay Mari if we hired enough equipment, but then there was a problem with the type of belay device, so we decided not to bother. Not this time. Next time I'll bring my own gear. Maybe I'll learn how to use a more fancy device too. However, I was very impressed with the centre, even if it didn't have feature walls. I suspect that the Gloucester centre will no longer have them when it moves, as they are more expensive and not compatible with all systems.

Back in town, I cooked my famous risotto for all of us, then Kim and I drank some wine. At this point she decided to open a package containing a giant poster, and ask me to help her to put it up. Fair enough, you say, but the chosen spot was a wall at the top of a spiral staircase, with open steps, and the project involved her standing on a laundry hamper or stepladder, depending on the angle, and attaching the poster with a hammer and nails. My job was to secure the ladder/hamper, and duck if the hammer threatened to fall on my head.

At one point Kim remarked that not many of her friends would help her with such an apparently foolhardy project. I replied that I'd only had one other such an innovative friend, and she is now dead. (She didn't die of a poster-hanging accident). I would have been grateful for safety harnesses at this point.

When the poster was up, we sat and admired it for a while, then had to go and get more wine, because we were shaken (but not stirred) by the riskiness of the venture. When the clock struck eleven with a very elaborate bird-call sound, we had to turn in. Last night in Germany, more's the pity.