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.