Former inhabitant of the wonderful City of Wakefield, now residing next to a bog in West Cumbria and loving it.
Haven't climbed for quite a while due to lack of climbing partners, lack of motivation and realisation that I'm never going to be any good at it. (The knackered rotator cuff doesn't help either).
Currently trying to get to the level of fitness where fell running is more pleasure than pain. Just about get there and something falls to bits.
Anything Else We Should Know The smell of boiling cabbage is associated with demonic possession. And if not it should be.
I'm also nowhere near as curmudgeonly, unpleasant and sarcastic in real life as my internet persona, depending on which side of bed I got out of.