07:23  Tad is rudely awakenend by his alarm.  Losing an hour in bed could be costly today.

07:24  Jack’s day is just ending.  He probably deserves a well-earned rest after a hard day at the office.

07:33  Things seem pretty quiet in Jack’s world.  Tad theorises that they are going to go very wrong.

07:34  There they go…

07:39  Tad doesn’t trust the guy with the ‘tache…

07:40  …or the softly spoken European chap on the plane.

07:41  It would appear that Tad is becoming paranoid already.  What will he be like in 15 hours time?

07:54  Surprisingly, love seems to be in the air in several guises.  But not in Jack’s office it would appear.

08:21  Things have gone from bad to worse.  Chaos reigns… Tad’s toast is burning!  Looks like Jack has some issues to deal with too.

08:31  Remarkably, it took an hour and a half for Jack to shoot someone.  Tad reckons it won’t be the last time.

08:32  Tad was right.

08:43  In other news, Tad seems to have missed a very exciting Grand Prix.  But back to the real world.

08:55  Tad’s toast situation has been rectified.  By the looks of things, Jack’s daughters’ situation hasn’t.  At least it can’t get any worse.

08:56  Apart from that…

08:58  …Oh. And that.

09:35  It seems like Jack is already trusting too many people.  Frankly, Tad doesn’t trust Jack.

09:47  Tad is multi-tasking.  He could probably teach Jack a thing or two.

10:06  …bip…bip…bip…bip…

10:39  Tad thought the execution at the end of episode 5 was evil and cold-blooded…but kinda cool.

11:02  Tad has a chuckle as Jack reassures his wife: “It’s ok, I’m here now”.  As if trouble doesn’t somehow follow Jack around like a rash.  Or does Jack chase trouble?  Discuss.

11:09  Ah, the old evil-mastermind-hero-control-earpiece-blackmail trick.  Jack really is in a pickle.  Or possibly more of a chutney.

11:46  Tad is perturbed to discover that he is only a quarter of the way through this madness.

11:59  Now then Teri.  Getting kidnapped once before breakfast could be forgiven as a misfortune.  But twice…?  Tad is reminded of wise words from the former US president in the made-up world of which Jack Bauer isn’t a part.

13:06  Tad is going a touch stir-crazy.  Jack is also a tad crazy, but for very different reasons.

13:36  Jack is making a terrible job of holding a hostage.  Tad is making a better job of holding a bacon sandwich.  It’s all about economies of scale.

14:13  Tad has been avoiding deadly gunfire for several minutes, before booby-trapping a petrol filled van and diving for cover behind a rocky outcrop in the nick of ti…..oh, no wait.  That was Jack.  Easy mistake.

15:02  Phew!  Well that’s all sorted out then.  Hot Bovril and buttery toast all round.  The senator’s safe.  Jack’s safe.  His wife and daughter are safe and, until the i’s have been dotted, will be protected in an anonymous suburban house…

15:04  …by a couple of clueless goons and the odd motion sensor.  It’s all going to go wrong again isn’t it?  Do these people not watch TV!?

15:10  LOOK OUT BEHIND Y…..too late.  It’s gone wrong again.

15:26  Jack’s conversion of suspect to stiff ratio is worryingly high.

16:07  Exactly how much time can someone spend on a mobile phone in one day?  What tariff is he on?

17:16  Tad has a bad feeling about the Senator’s wife now.  It’s either the forced smile or the power suit.

18:20  As Teri loses her memory, Tad loses his grip on consciousness…

18:22  Must…keep…watching…

18:23  …bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…bip…

19:04  Jack’s not going to be chuffed when they tell him the truth, if they ever do.

20:50  Oh dear.  Jack has started to trust people again.  That can only end in tears.

21:01  Told you Jack, I told you so.  But would you listen?  Maybe a bit less of the phone glued to your ear, eh?

21:53  Ah.  Cleverness.  Pretend the Senator’s dead.  That’ll solve everything.

22:17  Tad could be more impressed with Dennis Hoppers’ accent, although he does do mad and evil as well as ever.

23:10  Ooooooooh.  So it’s her.  Tad wasn’t expecting that twist.  But then, he isn’t the sharpest tool in the box at the moment.

00:11  It’s not quite Stallone-esque, but Jack has dodged a lifetime’s worth of bullets today.

00:12  Ouch!  Apart from that one.

00:32  Oh no!  Neither Tad nor Jack are happy with that ending.  Wait!  There’s an alternative one…

00:34  We’re happier with that one aren’t we Jack?…Jack?

Tasks 5 and 6 are history and much progress has been made on the remainder.  I have registered for the Loch Ness Marathon on the 4th of October – a race that starts to the South West of the Loch, skirts the edge of the water and finishes in Inverness.  Training for Run will start in earnest over the summer but a different kind of endurance has been high on the agenda recently.

I completed a 17 mile training (!) walk a week ago in preparation for both Climb, which has been confirmed for the beginning of May and Hike, which will take place at the end of May, culminating in a meal at a top restaurant which will contribute to Dine.  Full plans to be announced soon!

I’ve finished the first book from Read and am ploughing on with the second, whilst early logistics for Fall have been researched and dates are being examined.

The next task on the very near horizon, however, is Couch.  This weekend will see me endure a marathon of tense, edgy, real-time, small screen drama as I absorb season 1 of ’24′ in one day.

Scientific experiment or ultimate slobbery?  Only time will tell…bip, bip, bip, bip…

What not to do:

1. Clicking fingers at the waiter.

For ‘waiter’, read ‘Colin’ – the cheeky chappy responsible for keeping order at this particular singles evening.  He greeted, laid down the ground rules and got everyone settled.  If anything, the attention grabbing was done by himself – on this night the boys outnumbered the girls slightly, so Colin invited the guys up to the bar during the gaps for a little manly huddle with a side order of comparing notes.  Back in the real world, it’s gratifying to see that discourtesy is so severely frowned upon.  Well done, random poll people.

2. Adding salt to the meal before tasting it.

Er…really?  Number 2?  Now I know a thing or two about surveys and I can only assume that the sample used for the results of this one was epicure-heavy or desperate to impress.  Is this really a problem of the magnitude suggested by this poll?  I suppose it depends on the amount of salt…Anyway, this doesn’t apply to my situation, partly because I was in a bar and partly because the salt would be an unnecessary accompaniment to the Tabasco and Tommy K that I add to every meal as a matter of course.*

3. Getting drunk.

Oh, come on now.  We’re talking about a first date here.  I guess there’s a difference between ‘Dutch courage’ drunk and ‘Crimewatch’ drunk.  Singing songs about pixies probably won’t endear you to your prospective better half.  Nevertheless, on reflection, I’m quite glad that the attempt at sober speed dating was cancelled due to circumstances beyond my control.  On top of which, when it did happen, my first ‘date’ insisted that we go straight to the bar for vodka shots, so it can’t be universally frowned upon.

4. Licking the plate clean.

Well it saves on washing up I suppose.  Seriously, did the people polled simply mention whatever their vivid imaginations could conjure up or have they actually encountered these gaffes?  The mind boggles.  Given that I saw off the vodka without then fishing for the last drop, I believe I passed this test.

5. Burping.

A geographical minefield this one, with China, Korea and Bahrain cited as countries in which it is considered polite.  But, as far as first dates are concerned, you’d probably want to err on the side of caution.  Despite meeting a girl who makes regular business trips to China I managed to control this particular impulse, regardless of lager consumption.  After all, suppression is the better part of valour.  Or something.

6. Picking teeth with fingers.

What, with a perfectly serviceable knife available?  I can only marvel at the lack of self-consciousness indicated in this list.  Um…I managed not to do this too.

7. Licking the knife. 

Ah, that’s where the knife comes in.  It’s a bit of a dilemma to be fair. Do you: a) try as hard as you can to impress using your charm and sophistication, thereby securing a second date, or b) try equally hard to get at that last bit of gravy that’s clinging to your cutlery?  So many conundrums for the 21st century suitor.

8. Slurping soup.

We’ve pretty well moved away from talking about the speed-dating task now haven’t we?  In general, on a first date, it’s probably best just to order something other than soup.

9. Talking about sex or bodily functions.

And I should think so too.  That’s got to be second or even third date territory. 

10. Not leaving a tip.

Well it would be rude to leave the subject of speed dating without Tad’s Top Tips:

i) You get a card on which to note names and comments.  Use it well.  Trusting ones memory in this situation is fanciful at best.

ii) Three minute conversations are, not surprisingly, over very quickly.  Many follow the pattern of ‘who you are’, ‘where you’re from’ and ‘what you do’ and then that’s all folks.  Coming up with an original question early on could make all the difference.

iii) The whole experience is intense, anything you can do to relax will help.  This may include vodka shots. 

iv) Hang around afterwards.  This is where it really starts, everyone is feeling an element of relief and the opportunity to unwind and chat without waiting for a bell to ring is gratefully seized.

v) Enjoy it.  It’s actually quite good fun.

* Please note that I don’t add Tabasco and ketchup to every meal as a matter of course.  Or, in fact, any meal.  I was brung up proper.

Pretty...

I focussed on the sharp descent ahead of me, allowing the huge, oppressive silence of the mountains to first overwhelm and then calm me, concentrating my mind on the sternest test so far.  Many days of training had honed my skills, testing my physical endurance and mental capacity, before depositing me here…at the summit of a black run.  It was time.  I eased to the very edge, fully appreciating the sheer fall of the unforgiving piste for the first time.  I turned my skis downhill, leaned forward and, with a gentle push, gravity took me…

Immediately, my will power battled with my sense of self preservation, forcing my weight onto my lower ski as I turned, feeling my feet pivot as I marked the apex with a pole, arms spread for balance.  My lips moved noiselessly as I repeated the mantra that helped me to retain my posture, that kept my legs moving through the phases of each turn, that forced the pressure towards my ski tips to maintain control.  Two, three, four turns flowed under me, my body forever adjusting as my skis rolled from edge to edge, calves and thighs straining under the constantly shifting tensions. 

...as a...

As I carved down the mountain I imagined crowds lining orange fencing, catching only a glimpse of me flashing by, accelerating, poised, flowing.  Cowbells rang, the cheering intensified, people and landscape blurring as I gathered momentum and courage towards the next tumultuous roll.

Then reality kicked in and I fell on my arse again…

But that’s skiing for you.  From vertical to horizontal in the blink of an eye was a lesson that I’d learnt well during a week of lessons, practice and a bit of après ski fun in-between.  In fact I consider myself a master at the spectacular fall, starting head first, then a flick of the legs to land approximately upright again.  More importantly though, I consider myself an intermediate skier: I went to ski, I learnt to ski.  Thus another task is complete.

And it was truly a pretty place for the task; a neat, compact resort nestled in the Western Rockies called Sun Peaks, affording stunning views of the thickly forested mountains split by blazing white ski runs, and occasional glimpses of the resident Olympian Nancy Greene – Canada’s Female Athlete of the 20th Century no less…

...picture

The chalet was faultless, the nearest ski-in run was 50m from our front door, the food was plentiful and filling, the beer was flavoursome and a far cry from the soul-less lager I’d been expecting with trepidation.  (NB: rice is not an acceptable ingredient in beer.  You know who you are).  The snow was superb, with temperatures of zero degrees Fahrenheit a small price to pay for keeping it that way.

Many thanks to the instructors, Mario, Dennis, Sally, Jess and Peter, who were instrumental in my progress on the piste.  Indeed, the entire service we received at the resort was excellent.  Thanks too, to my fellow ‘Trail’s Edgers’, Rob, Ania, Bryan, Iris, Paul, Julie, Chris and Didi for general support, encouragement, home-made burgers, Paracetemol, snowball fights, bison steak sharing, and an appreciation of the finer points of the Rugby Union kicking game.

I think a (partial) group photo is an appropriate way to finish.  For the record: yes, we would have all fallen over but for Didi and Iris bookending the line…

So, five down (and we’re not talking ski-related injuries here) but so many more to go…

Climb is now close to fruition after a phone call with an excellent chap, who seemed happy with my inclusion in a group aiming to complete the Three Peaks Challenge in early May.  Stay tuned for confirmation of what will be possibly the biggest challenge on the list.

A touch of soul-searching has lead me to reach a compromise between realism and aspiration in Hike.  The full South West coast path was frankly ridiculous and the full outline of Cornwall is hardly short.  I mean, how crinkly does it have to be?  Damn that coastal erosion.  So the current plan is to use Climb as a springboard for a late-May, 10 day assault on Cornwall between, approximately, St. Austell and Padstow.  It won’t know what’s hit it.  Apart from waves, obviously.  But a more tangible achievement is on the horizon…

Fraser: A hat you could rely on

Because last but by no means least we have: Canada!…Celine Dion…Wayne Gretzky…The Arcade Fire…Maple Syrup…Constable Benton Fraser.  All evocative images, (well maybe not Celine but you get the picture), which will be filling my mind as I hurtle down the nursery slopes with nothing standing in my way but a five-year-old on a giant inflatable tyre.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s Ski time.  Packed and ready, chalet and hot-tub awaiting my arrival tomorrow, I will be fully focused on the task in hand.  Piste?  No, just the soft champagne powder of British Columbia…

Whatever the outcome, one thing is for sure…”baking doesn’t get tougher than this!”.

Before...(note: photo may not accurately represent recipe. A forward thinker would have taken the shot before using up many of the ingredients. You live and learn...)

We begin with a pile of ingredients and a recipe, passed down from mother to son for at least one generation.  Amended slightly, here it is:

A few days before making the cake, put all the fruit into an airtight box and cover with the beer.  Leave in a cool place for the fruit to absorb the beer.  Sounds good already.

On the big day, prepare a loose-bottomed 9-inch cake tin by greasing the inside, lining the base with a disc of baking paper and securing two more layers of paper around the outside (yes, the outside – I know not why) of the tin.  When baking, add another layer of paper between the tin and the baking tray and save a final disc to cover the top of the cake part-way through cooking.  If you’ve read this far and found you don’t have any baking paper, it’s probably best to pop out and get some.

Now the fun begins: put the butter and sugar in a large bowl and cream together, beating robustly until you have a fluffy, malleable goo.  Whisk each egg and beat this into the mixture a little at a time.  You may find it curdling, forming tiny lumps, slightly – but the strong-willed should keep beating and drop in the occasional pinch of flour to help bind the mixture together, leaving it with a smooth texture.

Next, mix the flour with the salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves and fold this into the egg mixture as gently as possible.  Stir in the beery dried fruit and try to ignore the fact that there appears to be far, far too much fruit.  It’ll all go in, be patient.  Finally stir in the ground almonds, chopped nuts, black treacle and lemon zest along with a drop of any unabsorbed beer.

Spoon the mixture into the tin and smooth over the top.  Lick spoon.  Place the whole nuts on top in your chosen pattern, whilst pre-heating the oven to 275°F, 140°C, gas mark 1.  Bake on the lowest shelf for 4-5 hours, placing the extra circle of baking paper on top after 3 hours.  When the top is firm but springy and a skewer comes out clean, it’s job done and it should look something like this: 

...during...

Leave the cake to cool in the tin before wrapping it in more baking paper and storing in an airtight box for anything from a few days to a couple of months.  At intervals during this time, use the skewer to make some narrow holes and drizzle a few teaspoons of brandy over the top, allowing it to soak in.  Marvellous.

Which left me with the final part of the task – the positive appraisal of a number of friends and colleagues.  I’m pleased to say that the cake was given a unanimous thumbs-up, as indicated here:

...and after.

One final slice has been kept for my Mum, who can enjoy the fully matured flavour.  She does, of course, hold the ultimate veto over the success of the task, but somehow I think I’m safe.

So, 4 down, 27 to go.  The graph starts a promising turn upwards, whilst the ‘days per task’ counter is also heading in the right direction.  I’ll just let Cake digest for a while and then perhaps another progress report…

Drink: It pains me to leave the brewing task by the wayside after my impassioned rant against super-chilled, mass-produced lager (in All Work And No Play), but I intend to keep the faith with a no-holds barred pub crawl with real ale at the top of a long agenda.  Perhaps I should have done this before Abstain, but too late now…

Fall: Cliché?  Quite possibly, but there was always a strong possibility of some dare-devil craziness appearing on this List.  Whenever I turn up in a new city I feel the compulsion to climb to the highest point I can find.  Sears Tower, Empire State Building, Eiffel Tower, CN Tower, Sagrada Familia, all conquered but all with their feet firmly on the ground.  I find the concept of a bungee jump just too…obvious and somehow too…jolty.  But a parachute jump I can handle.  I think.

Man-up:  Too much running, cycling, hiking and climbing makes Tad a dull boy.  Well, perhaps not, but it is rather leg specific.  I like the idea of a single focused challenge on the torso.  Bench press 100lbs.  Simple as.

Beard:  Fans of Gorman may see a link here.  My aim is simply to achieve several weeks of face-fungus growth, possibly involving patterns and shapes, followed by my first proper cut-throat razor shave.  Before and after shots compulsory, of course.

Dave Gorman: Beard Compulsory. Idiocy optional.

Couch:  I’d been considering some kind of lazy TV marathon for a while, with Bond films, Star Wars and the complete Blackadder being options.  But none really fulfilled the desire to do something new.  However, unlike a large proportion of the populous, I have never seen an episode of ‘24′.  I know, remarkable isn’t it?  So I’ll put myself through the entire season 1 in a day.  Or 24 hours, whichever is shorter…

Write:  Inspired by these ramblings, I’m going to ink away until I’ve produced a decent short story.  I have no idea what my imagination will come up with.  I have no idea what to do with the output.  But it will happen.

Finally, Punt:  A few summers ago, I first took hold of the pole and steered expertly into a concrete bank.  A few minutes later I was hooked, and once I’d been unhooked and pushed in the right direction I got the hang of it and found a deep fulfillment and enjoyment in pointing the unsteerable vessel around the narrow inlets of our university cities.  My final listed task will be to take a punt out for a day, leaving the massed tourists behind, spend a night in a riverside hostelry and then punt back.

There.  Pick the bones out of that.

And a very genuine final thought: many of these are tasks that will be so much more enjoyable and worthwhile with company.  If you’re reading this, you probably have at least a passing idea of who Tad is, so if you wanted to be a part of any of these, then just let him know…

Aurora and Brew are now excluded, after forming part of the initial List Assembly, due to a combination of time, money and the fact that our kitchen needs to be used for food preparation rather than beer preparation alone.  They are also good targets for future plans (32 tasks anyone?  Perhaps now is not the best time to think about it).

Beautiful: But maybe next time.

Other concepts which are on the sidelines this time, but are more than worthy considerations for the future, include:

Wall: I like the idea of indoor climbing, but I feel the list is already heavy on physical activity so I’ll park this.  And will probably end up doing it anyway, knowing me.

Arrows:  Darts, the sport of Gods, or at least very big men.  About 3 weeks ago (sober, you’ll notice) I hit a pair of treble-20′s and then nestled the third dart fractionally above the wire for a 140.  I’ve been in similar positions and pushed the final dart with enough gusto to land in double top for a 160.  So, why not aim for a perfect 180?  Because the frustration of not quite getting it would possibly drive me insane, that’s why.  The List tries to steer clear of too many trial-and-error tasks.  Again, it may still happen and, like Basil Fawlty and the concept of happiness, I shall record it if it does.

Green: I could certainly grow my own vegetables and prepare a fine meal with them.  But right now I’m looking at the rock-hard, snow covered ground and leaving this for another time.  So, I’m aiming to climb 3 mountains in a day, but not planting a few sprout trees.  This probably says something about me.  I shudder to think what.

Two ideas that were mentioned which are probably do-able, but rather too vague in their detail - Movie: appear as an extra, and Media: gain a mention in a national publication, also bite the dust.

The last mooted ideas were Vine: go on a wine tasting course and Esperanto: learn a new language.  Worthy in many ways, but not on the list.  For no real reason.

Finally, there are a couple of tasks which didn’t make the cut but which I’d like to cover one way or the other.  But which I shall keep to myself for the time being.

From here on in the real work starts and, accordingly, here is a bumper crop of updates.  The List is the first port of call for the final challenges that lay ahead before the already ‘not-as-distant-as-I-would-like’ 14th of November.  The second port of call is The Graph with the all-new ‘days per task’ counter.  It’s not looking too optimistic with 26 days per task comparing unfavourably with a target of 12 days, BUT (and that’s a big but) the time spent organising in the last couple of months will be repaid in the actual doing of the tasks further down the line.

Stats: Open to interpretation. And don't they just know it.

Finally, the earlier posts have been updated with the addition of a few pictorial elements which will be used more thoroughly from now on, so why not take a quick spin round before reading on…

Ready?  Now a summary:  the completed tasks are:  Clubbing, Blog and Abstain.

Previous mentions which are now penned in are: Date, Golf, Duck, Run, Sing, Charity, Climb, Cycle, Ski, Work, Read, Cake, Fish, Contact, Cook, Dine, Relax, Hike, Strum, Flex and Blood.

After giving it some thought, I’ve decided to clarify a few of these.

Work now includes the potential for presenting at a conference.  It adds to my professional motivation, whilst, to an extent, putting the successful completion of the task back in my own hands.

Hike: do you have any idea how long the South West coast path really is?  Blimey, it’s huge.  630 miles from Dorset to North Devon is a distance open only to those who count their working days in the same way that the rest of us count annual leave.  So my revised aim is a solid 10 days of traversing the coast of Cornwall.

And Strum.  It stays in, despite many compelling reasons against it, but I’ve decided to focus on one song, yet to be determined, and learn it on the guitar.  Maybe it will be the beginning of so much more, but in the context of the 31 tasks I hope it will be realistic.

Now for a little audience participation.  Pop into the kitchen and collect a sample of weighty foodstuffs like bags of rice, pasta, flour and blocks of butter or, if you’re that way inclined, lard.  Assemble a quantity of these equalling 4 kg and lift.  Now bear in mind that what you’re holding is how much smaller I am since the end of December.  I would point out that a regime of running and cycling has certainly helped, but by ‘eck it makes you think.

It has been suggested that the task should be extended, but I feel the point has been made.  The challenge was set, and the challenge was met.  Besides I need to prepare for a bit of après-ski in the near future.  And I started that preparation with one of these:

Start as you mean to go on...

Followed by a couple of these:

...and on

But before all that I had a weekend of sober toil, in which the final List stood up to be counted while the chaff dropped away.  More on that in the next installment, but a sneak peak at The List page will give more than just a taster…Cheers, all.