Method in My Madness: 10 Years Out of the Saddle by Richard Dunwoody

Author:Richard Dunwoody
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Thomas Brightman
Published: 2012-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Hey man, don’t you know my name yet?”

“Doug?”

“It’s Doug Stoup. Stoup as in ‘stout’, as in Guinness. You called me Stoop.”

“Sorry mate, I’m not thinking straight,” I replied, thinking that the correct pronunciation of Doug’s surname was the least of my worries.

Doug had overheard me on the satellite phone. It was Christmas Day and I had been doing the interview that floored me by asking if I missed racing. I was a long way from racing. Earlier that day I had been thinking only of the positives; now the mindset had shifted.

I was thinking of Baffin Island, that first taste of adventure, and how much I had loved it. This was a whole different league. The kit of an expedition seemed adventurous if you only had to haul it around for a week. After 25 days it loses some of its lustre. We might have another 30 to go.

I had spoken to my family and heard they were all well. My niece Lily told me she got a budgie for Christmas and asked what I got. An inedible frozen apple. My nephew George asked what I was having for Christmas dinner. Rehydrated gruel. Fine for a week, but I was sick of it. My sister, Gail, told me that John Bosley, my oldest friend’s father and one of my first bosses, was dying in hospital. Happy Christmas. Doug and I had a nip of whisky to celebrate. Not Christmas but another degree. We were now 84 degrees south.

I was determined to keep positive the next day but we found ourselves struggling again through a smallish crevasse field and up a gradient. It was a tough physical day as well as a difficult day to navigate.

In the tent that night I needed some mindless conversation to escape any pointlessly negative thinking.

“Happy Boxing Day, Doug. Why is it called Boxing Day?”

“It must be some Brit thing, don’t know, is it important?”

I went on and on about Boxing Day, suggesting various different ideas as to how it got the name. Doug was finding it tedious.

“Listen, you’re rambling now, it’s called Boxing Day because it’s a bit of physical sport to burn off the Christmas calories. Just pretend that’s true and shut up.”

My eyes lit up.

“Yes, Doug, you’re probably right! Boxing Day is a big sporting day in Britain! That was a big day for us, it was always work. It was a huge day for us. Our Christmas Day was usually on the 23rd because we usually worked until the 21st and then had some days off. We usually had about two or three days off before Christmas as well as Christmas Day off and then we’d ride on Boxing Day.”

Doug was looking at me strangely. I carried on babbling.

“So what we’d do was have a big party on either Christmas Eve or the night before Christmas Eve. When I was married, Carol and I always had a Christmas Eve party and the lads would all come round and we’d sing,

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