And the Oscar goes to...

So, having sent out an email to all and sundry at work this afternoon, including the link to the website I am aware that I may have a somewhat larger audience on the link to this little blog.

And here is the bad news. If you are in fact reading this, the witty anecdotes and amusing stories are not in fact for free. You are required to donate. Your computer will shut down, eat all your photos, send sparks of burning lava into your eyes and crush your fingers if you do not go to www.justgiving.com/alanheleneverest and help us move closer to our magnificent target!

Now... If you have paid you little entertainment fee.. please feel free to read on...

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Now I had planned to write an extensive blog this evening, charting the highlights, low points, lessons learned, friends made and areas visited, but it seemed more important to nip to the pub for a game of pool and a half (okay pint) (please refer to blog regarding carbo loading, it is all part of the training!).

So instead, in no particular order I would like to extend some thanks to people who have been, and will be helping me up the mountain...

So kicking it all off, I would like to extend my thanks to the younger Yeti, Curry Jnr, who sent me an email a year ago, asking me if I was interested in this type of adventure. Since that time he has let me get on with meeting a new bunch of folks, trim trailing, pub training, air guitar playing shaninigans, occasionally ensuring me safely home without batting an eyelid, and more importantly that all of that, allowed me to sign him up to the Berlin Marathon and kept me company on route. Behind the scenes he is also Team Sec and buried in paperwork, but keeps a good humour.

There is also an entire team behind the test who I see at training and parties, but who are otherwise nose to the grindstone dealing with marketing, fundraising, websites, sponsors, permits, visas, airlines, tea houses and a billion other things without which this trip would not make it past Heathrow let alone Kathmandu. There will be proper thanking at a higher altitude I'm sure, but given I work in the NHS and have no idea how all this stuff works, I have to be grateful someone out there knows what the hell to do...

So in addition to that, I'd like to thank the girls... (you know who you are), who have whole heartedly been in support, buying tickets, coming to parties, sponsoring, lending me kit, buying me umpiring hats and magic perfume, letting me leave my kit all over the floor and generally neglecting the house... you are outstanding, and I hope you've had as much fun as I have!!

Before it all gets too Oscar speech like, I'm going to sign out. It is now 23.59, and very shortly the first day of the Everest Test 2009 will be upon us. My back pack is seriously full and sitting in the lounge, logo emblazoned kit is by its side for tomorrows press conference, and this time tomorrow we'll be well under way...

Tick tock tick tock...

So my lounge has been converted into a warehouse. There are Kathmandu, North Face, Ellis Brigham, carrier bags all over the floor, endless packaging being carefuly discarded into a huge bin liner, thermals being stacked into ever tinier piles as I attempt to reduce the weight count.

Yesterday I thought my pile looked quite reasonable until I realised I hadn't included in that pile my waterproofs (tops and bottoms), my down jacket, my fleece, spare trainers, any of my toiletries and I still hadn't picked up my drugs from the pharmacy.

And speaking of pharmacy. I thought I'd done the vast majority of my expenditure when I went to North Face, but can anyone tell me how in Gods name I spent forty five quid in SuperDrug? They better be some Goddam super drugs.

And the man in the pharmacy told me the diamox will make my eyesight blurry for the first 48 hours. Was considering taking a couple of doses in advance to check the general effect, but given I cycle to work, perhaps not the best choice.

So, despite the best attempts of Miss Stavely to dampen the spirits by sending weather reports for Kathmandu, I am excited. This excitement has been significantly increased by the fact the girls have bought me a real umpires hat as a take away gift... Slazenger, white beauty, old school.

And I've got some seriously big pants. Tracksuit pants that is. They're medium sized. If you live with radioactivity exposed giant men. Brilliant. And my small training shirt reaches my knees (I so can't wait to see Paola in hers - must double as a duvet cover?) But I love my baseball capped, polo shirted branded extravaganza media look. I'll be all kitted up for the press conference. I also just saw the mother of all tee-shirts which I would love to have for the trip, but think time has officially run out for more shopping. Black tee shirt, white letters. Don't Hassle the Hoff. Goddam Greek Genuis.

But signing out with a final note... of congratulations. Not to the organisers who have sweated their socks off for the past year, nor to the media men who've pulled off the press conference at Lords. But to Mr Hill who after much upwards struggling has passed the ECB level one umpiring exam. I suspect he may have had to sleep with a bearded cricket afficionado to get the resit, but we are now a fully equipped team for the match! Obviously I will be asking him to recite the MCC laws on the way up the trek... must find out his final score on the test paper... Clearly the way to pass any exam is to be aware that otherwise a Curry female will step up and take your spot, but on the positive side this means the risk of me having to ruin anyone's day by giving them out for a duck on the mountain.