Dearest friends and generous patrons of the Anthony Nolan Trust:
For the passively interested and the unashamedly sadistic amongst you; please find herewith a selection of photos and biographical excerpts detailing the travails and ignominies of altitude hypoxia, tropical illness, trench foot, vertigo, nicotine deprivation and Olympic-standard snoring I expect to encounter on our expedition. Hell is, indeed, other people - particularly if their name is Woodsy and you have to sleep within one hundred yards of them.
I will endeavour to post a tidbit or two on a daily basis, cellular data restrictions allowing (I'm with O2 and you'd need a satellite dish on your back half the time in Chiswick, never mind Kili). If no updates are forthcoming within a twenty-four hour period, you may assume I've been eaten by a Gnu.
Trust James to get the aisle seat - the smallest guy of the three with the most legroom. Perhaps he wanted to be the nearest to 39C!!
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