Everyday life

@ Parsons Green

Easter Friday. Climbing Centre at Parsons Green. 

Was craving a muffin. It was drizzling slightly.

The quotes on the notice-board in front of the counter were funny and interesting. 

Walked upstairs. Had a look around. 

There was nobody else in the whole place. It was dead still. To be honest, I was a little surprised. I didn’t think it would be busy, but I didn’t think that it would be devoid of people. 

It is nice for us because we ended up having the whole place to ourselves. But I feel so sorry for the bosses. It must be difficult to compete against the likes of Westway in the West, the opening of one of the biggest indoor bouldering centre by Arch climbing centre at Biscuit Factory in March. If Urban Ascent was opened in Singapore, it would not be so empty. In fact, it might be quite crowded during the public holidays. But then, in Singapore, there is a lack of choice and competition. The same cannot be said of London. 

I appreciate the efforts that UA goes to personalize the place and ‘talk’ to the climbers. Besides the quotes pinned up on the notice board, there are books and magazines lying around, helpful gym training advice and even little notes attached to the start of some routes, advising on how the route starts. 

Much of the problems haven’t changed since February when I first when there. But that means that instead of just choosing the problems that I could do, I chose problems that I couldn’t do and stuck with trying them. It’s a change from tiring oneself out by accomplishing many problems to tiring oneself out by going head-on at the same problem over and over again. 

Because of my lack of height and arms length, I need to find other ways to complete them. Its frustrating though, seeing others accomplish them so easily when I struggle so hard to stretch my fingertips a little more. 

Manage to scratch my hand, not against the holds, but against the wall., 

Climbing on plastic holds makes me wish that I was climbing on natural rock instead. Its so nice climbing on natural rock. Feeling the texture of it beneath your fingertips. Caressing the rock as you try and find the ‘perfect’ hold. Looking down carefully to ascertain the best positioning of the foot. It’s just lovely. 

Bouldering tires my fingers out like leading outdoors in Sardinia doesn’t. 

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