Kingdoms Of Experience. Andrew Greig

about this; it could well be that some of the lads had come along for the ride, for a free trip to Everest and a chance to go to 8,000 metres and so break into the big league. Sandy was of the same mind as Mal, had murmured to me in one of his casual asides, ‘I can imagine myself on the top – I wonder if any of these other guys do.’

      One did. Rick Allen sat reading the New Testament, wondering who’d be prepared to go through the Pinnacles with him, without oxygen. He had a feeling it would come to that. Or could he solo it? He had never yet failed in the Himalayas, and he was prepared to push the boat out a long way to keep that record. On the other hand, he didn’t want to die. There was a ridge to walk between under-achievement and unjustified risk; he believed it could end in the summit of Everest. He returned to the Bible.

      The argument heated up as Jon accused Mal of having too many preconceived plans and projections and computer flow-charts (of which of course he had none, Jon retorted he was speaking figuratively, Liz said you should be more careful what you say then). After another hour’s drinking and arguing they all agreed that one had to have detailed plans worked out in advance, even in the face of the certain knowledge that events would work out differently. If anyone had preconceptions, Liz pointed out, it was Jon and Tony, who still stuck to their picture of themselves as early trail-blazers who would also burn out early. A choir of soloists, I thought, some of them miming, some saving themselves, some refusing to catch the conductor’s eye, some selflessly supporting …

      Jon looked across the table at a ruffled Mal and said, with 500-watt blue-eyed sincerity, ‘Yet you know at the end of the day we’ll work our balls off to make this trip succeed.’

      I left on this harmonious note. Chris and I were woken in the early hours by Jon pounding on the door, exuberant and giggling. ‘Duff’s on pure babble,’ he reported, and collapsed in the corner. We were treated to the unusual sight of Tony ‘tired and emotional’ as he tried to flop on to his bed, missed, and fell full length on the floor. ‘Oh dear … I don’t think I feel too well … I can’t ket my heys from my hocket …’ Malcolm they had propelled into Liz’s room with a plastic rose clenched between his teeth, and we could hear them shouting at each other two doors down as we floated back to sleep on a sea of Green Leaf beer.