Playing out with the boys

I'm now officially in the Keen Car. This is a special term coined a few years ago when a dozen of us hired a villa in Mallorca and three cars so we could go climbing, walking or sightseeing. With a dozen folk, you quickly divide into groups, when you're all climbers, some are more enthusiastic than others about getting up early to drive to a faraway crag, slather yourself in sunscreen, then spend the day cutting your fingers to ribbons and scuffing your knees on the sharp rock. The first car of the day was the Keen Car, those who wanted to climb until the bones showed through their fingers were in it. I wasn't.

Now we're skiing our legs to stumps and, heaven help me, even though we have no cars, I am in the virtual keen car, with the lads. And lads will be lads, if you ask me for an example of the innuendo, I couldn't give you one in such polite company. I'll just leave the laddish banter to your imagination!

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