Broken bones, dark skies, hangovers, lost keys, end of the world rain.
This is the scenery behind our last weekend. The Brit Guys came here in the rainiest year, so far, of the last 3 centuries, and the salvation ark was under the form of a wooden board, with sparsely put plastic holds. I'll spare you the chaos we had to face to finally get in, but finally we did get in. And we got in seriously.
I had one of the best sessions of the last months, even with my fractured wrist giving me some good worries and with the rest of my body practically held together with tape, and I really have to thank the Brits, because they were psyched out of their minds despite the terrible weather that hindered them to tick even more problems outside, and they really made me pull hard setting problems with long (and I mean long) moves between bad holds. Instant classics.
Dinner was one square meter of seafood, with everything from mussels to crabs. For now this is all I can tell you, the bare material facts. To know more about this period, you will have to wait for me to fully understand it, then I could tell you, maybe, something really worth reading.
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