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Born to a man and a woman he calls his parents, young Jon found himself in a living horror movie,
being one third of identical triplets. Alas, only his current twin, Pat, survived the ordeal of birthing,
at least that's what we told inquizitive teachers.
Having been born in Stone, it was perhaps inevitable that Jon would take up climbing, but it was a surprise to be bred in Rugeley, Staffs., under the watchful eye of the omnipresent Cooling Towers. Climbing was starting to become an important part of Jon's early life, but was thwarted in his initial climbing ambitions by his evil twin Pat who got the Spiderman outfit, while Jon had to make do with the boring Superman one. Never-the-less, trips out to the Roaches and Black Rocks in the Peak district with his grand-parents fuelled young Jon's desire to scare his mother to death. While at York University (home to yahs and other tax-dodging Durham rejects), Jon was introduced to climbing proper rocks by his manservant, Ransome, who also introduced Jon to casualty departments by falling off and breaking his ankle on their first day out. This presented Jon with a dillema: who could climb with him now? Stealing Ransome's rack and ruksac had been easy (the gas at the hospital had taken care of that), but for world climbing domination, Jon needed a partner with experience, agility, and cunning. He found MacLellan instead. The pair teamed up and tried to climb at Brimham, but it became clear from early on that Mac was scottish, and thus their days as drink+drug free zones where limited. Several blues bands later, the pair split, citing musical differences. The divorce settlment included Tartan Lycra. A slighty wary Read was invited to sample Peak gritstone by buxom grit guru Fat Boy. The young apprentise did his master's every wish, belayed well into the night for The Fat One to bag another grit E5. Soon, Jon found his climbing ability to nearly match his mentor's calorific content. Nothing was deemed unworthy of a toprope, even if neither could get on to a single move. Then, one day, Jon awoke to find he had been kidnapped and left for dead in Aberdeen. He had a vague recolection of a not inconsiderable time not doing his PhuD in Stirling, but that was mainly a blur anyway. Here, washing in the warm sprin-like waters of the Don every morning, Jon was introduced to real climbing, involving bolted sea cliffs and toproping in the mountains. Jon begat Readza, for some unknown reason, who threw himself into (and off) his climbing with a near legendary inability to follow even the simplest route description. Partners at this point included Skeletor, The Ski Champion, Heartbeat Berry, Johnny Crashdown, Steep Stu, and The Remarkable Mr Paul Allen. Readza sometimes wondered what they put in the water. To escape the ravenous clutches of highland sheep, Jon fled to Leicester, where the sheep turned to flies and the maggots needed counting. But, at last! he was able to climb on his beloved gritstone again, having spent 5 years trawling round shite quarries in Scotland trying to find a lost bit of Ilkley. Readza soon progressed through the climbing grades until he could walk in to almost any grit crag in the Peak, except Wimberry obviously. All this is for nothing, as the Learned Hot-Shot (according to Ken W.) is due for Cambridge, and the bright lights of Ivory Towers. Hey ho. | ||
