Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [109]
I was skinny, long-haired and wearing some very suspect flowery, Nepalese trousers. In short, I looked a mess, but I was so happy.
I had been warned by Henry at base camp not to rush into anything ‘silly’ when I saw Shara again. He had told me it was a classic mountaineers’ error to propose as soon as you get home. High altitude apparently clouds people’s good judgement, he had said.
In the end, I waited twelve months. But during this time I knew that this was the girl I wanted to marry.
We had so much fun together that year. I persuaded Shara, almost daily, to skip off work early from her publishing job (she needed little persuading, mind), and we would go on endless, fun adventures.
I remember taking her roller-skating through a park in central London and going too fast down a hill. I ended up head first in the lake, fully clothed. She thought it funny.
Another time, I lost a wheel whilst roller-skating down a steep, busy London street. (Cursed skates!) I found myself screeching along at breakneck speed on only one skate. She thought that one scary.
We drank tea, had afternoon snoozes and drove around in ‘Dolly’, my old London black cab that I had bought for a song.
Shara was the only girl I knew who would be willing to sit with me for hours on the motorway – broken down – waiting for roadside recovery to tow me to yet another garage to fix Dolly. Again.
We were (are!) in love.
I put a wooden board and mattress in the back seat so I could sleep in the taxi, and Charlie Mackesy painted funny cartoons inside. (Ironically, these are now the most valuable part of Dolly, which sits majestically outside our home.)
Our boys love playing in Dolly nowadays. Shara says I should get rid of her, as the taxi is rusting away, but Dolly was the car that I will for ever associate with our early days together. How could I send her to the scrapyard?
In fact, this spring, we are going to paint Dolly in the colours of the rainbow, put decent seat belts in the back seat, and go on a road trip as a family. Heaven. We must never stop doing these sorts of things. They are what brought us together, and what will keep us having fun.
Spontaneity has to be exercised every day, or we lose it.
Shara, lovingly, rolls her eyes.
The summer of 1999, we went on holiday to Spain to visit my cousin Penny, who runs a horse farm in Andalucia. It is a beautiful, wild part of the country.
Shara would ride out early each day in the hilly pine forests and along the miles of huge, deserted Atlantic beaches. I was told I was too tall for the small Andalucian ponies. Hmm.
But I didn’t want to be deterred.
Instead I ran alongside Shara and tried to keep up with the horse. (Good training, that one.)
Eventually, on the Monday morning we were to leave, I took her down to the beach and persuaded her to come skinny-dipping with me. She agreed. (With some more eye-rolling.)
As we started to get out after swimming for some time, I pulled her towards me, held her in my arms, and prepared to ask for her hand in marriage.
I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and as I was about to open my mouth, a huge Atlantic roller pounded in, picked us both up, and rolled us like rag dolls along the beach.
Laughing, I went for take two. She still had no idea what was coming.
Finally, I got the words out. She didn’t believe me.
She made me kneel on the sand (naked) and ask her again.
She laughed – then burst into tears and said yes.
(Ironically, on our return, Brian, Shara’s father, also burst into tears when I asked him for his blessing. For that one, though, I was dressed in a jacket, tie and … board shorts.)
I was unsure whether his were tears of joy or despair.
What really mattered was that Shara and I were going to get married.
That same day we drove to Seville to celebrate. I asked someone for the name of the smartest hotel in Seville. Alfonso XIII, came the reply. It is where the King of Spain always stays.
We found the hotel and wandered in. It was amazing. Shara was a little embarrassed as I was dressed in shorts