Le grand ventre decided that today was the day he would give the birthday boy (me) Broken Beagle and Dear Boy a lesson in sartorial elegance - today was to be veritable tour de force that would shock the fashion world to its very core - nothing less, nothing more. From the simple insouciance of the well-worn Ireland Rugby top to the stylistic brilliance of the Barbour, from the timeless nature of the burgundy cord's to that ultimate statement in fashion: the bright orange Rab, it is without doubt true that le grand ventre has an eye for an outfit. Today was to be no ordinary day though - today's outfit would show the French how simple style was done!
Standing perfectly shod in an immaculate pair of brown brogues with odd socks (pulled up of course) these flowed seamlessly via a pair of pasty white legs into a daring pair of blue gingham shorts. This was nothing compared to the crowning glory of this lesson in style and panache though - a svelte denim jacket (unbuttoned naturally) and no shirt. Without doubt a strong look and one that would make the world of fashion sit up, scribble countless notes on whatever was to hand and wonder just how they had never thought of this before. Unfortunately no one got a picture of the full outfit but we have obtained a picture of said outfit adapted for crag mode - note the fantastic accessory bag which is de riguer for the crag look this season.
Anyway enough about le grand ventre for now - we arrived at Bas Cuvier and tried blue 1 which felt damn near impossible as did blue 2. Then did a few of the orange problems and the world seemed a lot better. Wandered in and found Dense and a few other lads camped out under something steepish before going to look at the days objective La Marie Rose.
Having found the problem Broken Beagle sent it again first time and le grand ventre had a few attempts but was hampered by an injury to his hand but at least he gave me more than enough beta to have a decent attempt. After a couple of failed attempts I could pretty much get my foot out to the left every time but dropping into the gaston was proving almost impossible due to sweaty hands and as the day progressed it just got worse as the sun lit up more and more of the problem. Deciding that it wasn't going to happen concentration was turned instead to the blue slab to the left - once the initial start had been sorted the fun really with a couple of tenuous smears to better holds and the top. Feeling a lot better having got the problem done soon turned to dismay after I realised that getting off the problem was the mental crux of it all and after a few dismal attempts I just decided to down climb the problem I had just done which was no doubt a lot harder than the descent proper but was the only way that I was getting off the problem that day. Well at least I was not the only one to suffer as the Dear Boy showed great solidarity in also getting the fear about getting off it and there is no doubt that it provided amusement for the rest of the climbers at the crag...
Events however must shift back to le grand ventre just as surely as night follows day - having tried and failed to tape his troublesome thumb he had resorted instead to sporadically trying a problem before dropping off with a huge cry of "Ow" and shaking the injured hand vigorously. He would then proceed to telling everyone in the general vicinity that he was injured - it didn't matter what nationality they were or whether they had any great command of the English language, they would be told about le grand ventre's grave injury. The rest of the gang just wandered off and found another boulder to try...
Following a good day at Bas Cuvier (with the exception of the detritus of carnal carnage that litters the place) it was off to Font for a quick beer. Le grand ventre's outfit proved to be a huge hit with the locals and proved it's versatility transforming instantaneously from crag wear to afternoon beer wear by fastening a single button on the denim jacket - oh so chic! Some of the younger element gaped open-mouthed and fell on the floor in amazement and others just could not believe the style that was being displayed and stared at us with open disdain. How could this oaf show such style?
And so it was on to the evenings entertainment - dinner at a posh French restaurant. Thankfully le grand ventre had decided to dress down for the evening and was therefore slightly less offensive to the jealous eyes of the locals. Foie Gras pate (truly amazing food) followed by Swordfish in a delicate curry sauce washed down with a couple of decent bottles of wine and finished off with a stunning Armagnac from 1970. From there it was back to our regular watering hole - the Glasgow Bar - which is better than its name suggests and had the addded advantage of having Desperado on tap for the Broken Beagle. A few pints later and some random shot for me went down quickly and then the wobble back to the camp site followed by possibly more beer and an undignified crash into bed. Great food, great company and all in all a great way to see in ones 40th.
Standing perfectly shod in an immaculate pair of brown brogues with odd socks (pulled up of course) these flowed seamlessly via a pair of pasty white legs into a daring pair of blue gingham shorts. This was nothing compared to the crowning glory of this lesson in style and panache though - a svelte denim jacket (unbuttoned naturally) and no shirt. Without doubt a strong look and one that would make the world of fashion sit up, scribble countless notes on whatever was to hand and wonder just how they had never thought of this before. Unfortunately no one got a picture of the full outfit but we have obtained a picture of said outfit adapted for crag mode - note the fantastic accessory bag which is de riguer for the crag look this season.
Anyway enough about le grand ventre for now - we arrived at Bas Cuvier and tried blue 1 which felt damn near impossible as did blue 2. Then did a few of the orange problems and the world seemed a lot better. Wandered in and found Dense and a few other lads camped out under something steepish before going to look at the days objective La Marie Rose.
Having found the problem Broken Beagle sent it again first time and le grand ventre had a few attempts but was hampered by an injury to his hand but at least he gave me more than enough beta to have a decent attempt. After a couple of failed attempts I could pretty much get my foot out to the left every time but dropping into the gaston was proving almost impossible due to sweaty hands and as the day progressed it just got worse as the sun lit up more and more of the problem. Deciding that it wasn't going to happen concentration was turned instead to the blue slab to the left - once the initial start had been sorted the fun really with a couple of tenuous smears to better holds and the top. Feeling a lot better having got the problem done soon turned to dismay after I realised that getting off the problem was the mental crux of it all and after a few dismal attempts I just decided to down climb the problem I had just done which was no doubt a lot harder than the descent proper but was the only way that I was getting off the problem that day. Well at least I was not the only one to suffer as the Dear Boy showed great solidarity in also getting the fear about getting off it and there is no doubt that it provided amusement for the rest of the climbers at the crag...
Events however must shift back to le grand ventre just as surely as night follows day - having tried and failed to tape his troublesome thumb he had resorted instead to sporadically trying a problem before dropping off with a huge cry of "Ow" and shaking the injured hand vigorously. He would then proceed to telling everyone in the general vicinity that he was injured - it didn't matter what nationality they were or whether they had any great command of the English language, they would be told about le grand ventre's grave injury. The rest of the gang just wandered off and found another boulder to try...
Following a good day at Bas Cuvier (with the exception of the detritus of carnal carnage that litters the place) it was off to Font for a quick beer. Le grand ventre's outfit proved to be a huge hit with the locals and proved it's versatility transforming instantaneously from crag wear to afternoon beer wear by fastening a single button on the denim jacket - oh so chic! Some of the younger element gaped open-mouthed and fell on the floor in amazement and others just could not believe the style that was being displayed and stared at us with open disdain. How could this oaf show such style?
And so it was on to the evenings entertainment - dinner at a posh French restaurant. Thankfully le grand ventre had decided to dress down for the evening and was therefore slightly less offensive to the jealous eyes of the locals. Foie Gras pate (truly amazing food) followed by Swordfish in a delicate curry sauce washed down with a couple of decent bottles of wine and finished off with a stunning Armagnac from 1970. From there it was back to our regular watering hole - the Glasgow Bar - which is better than its name suggests and had the addded advantage of having Desperado on tap for the Broken Beagle. A few pints later and some random shot for me went down quickly and then the wobble back to the camp site followed by possibly more beer and an undignified crash into bed. Great food, great company and all in all a great way to see in ones 40th.
1 comment:
Quite simple amazing. I am.....aghast.
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