The Rock Atrocity dichotomy

Dragon laces cinched tight,rubber squeaked clean.Two calloused paws shoved in the chalk bucket,rubbed together,excess blown off.Come on man,this time.Just like Jerry,back in the day.Match the flake and pull on,an easy first move to the pocket.Right foot outside edge on the spiky crimp,and a stiff pull into the next,worse right hand drilled slot.Dig in,bone it like a fishmonger,step left foot through,big move to the glued on flake.Squeeze it man,no kipping here,right foot high,really drill the fucker into that useless foothold.Out with the right hand to match that motherless shithouse of a hold.Got it.Fuck,fuck,fuck...what's the foot sequence?Don't think,just hold the cutloose and get that right foot on.Then go like hell for the pinch,but no,I'm fading,I'm fat, weak and useless,and swing off as my right hand vainly attempts to close on it.I slump onto my dusty pad,dejected but somehow perversely ebullient.Ten minutes rest,some water,a roll up and then perhaps one last go? Nah.Fuck it.Not today,man.Pill Box anyone?                             Sound familiar? Rock Atrocity,the glued up and drilled but brutally brilliant albatross round my neck had just struck again.I honestly had no idea it would take this long.My first session,I linked it in a couple of overlapping sections and was confident,nay,convinced it'd go next visit....but it would seem the goat-headed gods of The Orme had other plans for me.I'm now five sessions deep on the thing,some spent going maddeningly backwards,others offering that tiny glimmer of hopeful progress that keeps me coming back to that shiny shit filled cack pile that passes for a bouldering venue.The place draws me in,weekend after weekend,rain or shine.And I hate it.The moves are horrible,the holds awkwardly sized...I mean Christ alive,if you're gonna completely manufacture a problem,at least make it a good one.But see the thing is,it's a fantastic bloc.I love and loathe it in equal measure;I could quite happily never try the bastard again,but then could I live with that? The knowledge that I just gave up,fucked it off for something softer,easier,nicer even...      
                                                              No.I'm not having that.It's that simple,black and white,absolute.And herein lies the dichotomy.I hate the fucking problem,the polish,the shitty little slots that tiny fingered 6 stone youngsters can camp on,the eminently dropable finishing moves.I despise the whole man-made abomination that it is,Cave right-of-passage be damned,fuck it,I'll just be glad when it's all over.But truly,will I? Cos the funny thing is,this apparently futile siege,this pointless journey from one seemingly arbitrary point to another in a dusty piss smelling cave seems to be making me strangely happy.I'm hating the problem,but loving the journey.And despite grades,names,kudos and anything else you'd care to attach to success on a project,sometimes that's what it's all about.Malc knew the score.He didn't call it it Pilgrimage for nothing.                                                                                                                               Away from the confines of the Cave,some other,considerably less frustrating lime related shit happened.I found another Ormes project in the form of the fantastic Jack Daniels/Aint No Party.After receiving some out of the blue Bowen Technique physio from a passing philanthropist with magic hands the other weekend,I boshed Jack Daniels Connection with very minimal effort,and ended up two moves from doing the link up on my third go,right at the end of the day.Even the "Small German",Wilko (cos he has "tiny hans"-thanks to Bolton's answer to Frank Skinner,Serpico,for that gem) was surprised,since normally he sees me climbing like a blindfolded footless cripple with lard on my hands.Unlike RA,that one'll go soon.Capping off the recent Welsh trips for me was Where's My Hippo,another one done right at the end of a session,with no skin and arms like overcooked spaghetti.What a great problem,I can't fault that one.                                                                                           Elsewhere,the Olympics was quite simply fucking ace.I planned just to watch the cycling,but got drawn in,watched allsorts,loved it,was inspired,and ended up with a slight fetish towards the Netherlands girls hockey team,who seem to be comprised almost entirely of absolutely smoking blondes.Brilliant.Then City beat the Rentboys in the Community Shield,go on lads!! To cap it all,the Premier League starts again in a week...it's onwards and upwards all the way,whether RA gives in soon or not.And I'm almost,almost hoping it doesn't.Thanks for reading this tripe,people.More musings and slight mental health issues soon.          

Punting it up on Rock Atrocity

The Young German/East Lancs Hobbit Wilko on Jacks Party

Actually completing a problem!!!!