Believe me. It might well be nearly twenty years ago. I hasten to add that I do take showers regularly, but the good old-fashioned wallow in soapy water is something I gave up donkey’s years ago. The reasons for this change of habit are not difficult to find. A bath consumes a huge amount of water, and in a busy life just running a bath seems to take time that could be better spent. Perhaps this betrays a kind of inner puritanism on my part. Every moment should be used in activity that promotes the good of the human race. Actually, that doesn’t really account for the situation. If I am anxious to get on with life first thing in the morning it has much more to do with my desire to get stuck into breakfast. Time spent in the bathroom simply defers one of the great pleasures of my day.
Today, however, was different. I spent the day down in Derbyshire with my regular climbing partner, Andy. The purpose of the trip was to look at a line of crags above the Derwent Valley (Dovestone Tor) with an eye to subsequent visits. We didn’t want to lug all our gear up there if they didn’t offer some really good routes: so a reconnaissance seemed to be a good idea. By the standards of my younger self the expedition was rather trivial, but the weather turned quite rough during the afternoon. The bright winter sunshine was replaced by squalls of snow and hail driven by a brisk northerly wind. The visit was worthwhile, and will merit a return on a long, sunny, summer day.
I have to admit that the day did leave me feeling rather battered, as the effort required by the walk came on top of the dodgy condition of my back, following some excessively enthusiastic and unwise gardening. By the time I got back home I was as stiff as a board. As I neared home the idea took increasing clarity and urgency in my head, that the first thing I would do when I got into the house would be to run a deep, hot and soapy bath, and enjoy a good soak….which I did, before enjoying a glass of a good single malt whisky!
I’m not sure whether it was a consequence of the bath or the whisky, but I might get up to Dovestone Tor again sometime. I feel an art project coming on. One thing is certain, however, and that is that I will wait for a day on which I will not be required to battle against snow driven by a northerly gale. Even so, I could quite get a taste for this bathing business.