Indoor rock climbing is a very odd activity in many ways, especially for people like me who generally prefer to shun physical activity.
The object is to climb a wall into which irregularly-shaped splodges of coloured plastic have been bolted and then . . . come down again.
And that's it.
A session of indoor rock climbing involves doing just that over and over again until your fingers lose their grip and your arms begin to tremble with the strain.
It really shouldn't be as much fun as it is. But it is.
This evening I went climbing with Gayle (who, despite the appearance of her blog, has actually been back in Australia for about two months) and I very quickly realised just how long it had been since I last climbed.
First I had to get the instructor to show me how to fit the harness (my own harness!) and then a wall rated just 15 (on a scale of 1 to 30) almost broke me.
It had been a long time. The last time I went climbing was in a place that burned down in 2004. And when it burned down, it was quite a while since I'd been.
So the plan is to go again next Monday, and possibly on a regular basis after that. We'll see how that pans out.