Mountain Pass #1 (Setting the scene)

How is the hair..... Anyone ?!?!?!

You'll probably be relieved to know that I am not wrestling with society's collective ills today, or indeed imploding on an introspective rollercoaster. Although perhaps only temporarily - I've stopped but I'm still strapped in. It would seem I've paid more than once.

Having intimated in my last blog that I would begin to regale you with some of the stories since we (I include Matt), started out on the long journey to business launch, I'd better get on with it. I have to confess to enjoying reminiscing. Don't get me wrong, most of the defining memories were tumultuously bad. But there is a burgeoning feeling of comfort that whilst we didn't withstand what was thrown at us, we did at least come again to make it to this point.

And I'm certainly not intending to lay a pretentious golden egg on how to start your own business - we'll leave that to Sir Richard or Sir Alan, someone who's actually achieved. I'm reflecting on what we did wrong, which was quite a lot. Through some of these wacky incidents, there may be something to draw on from anyone who was thinking of starting their own business. Along the lines of what not to do!!!!!

The idea to set up a business was borne on a May bank holiday monday night, although was surprisingly not alcohol induced. Both Matt and myself had experienced our first ‘annus horribulis’ for very different reasons - reasons which remain too raw to put in to print. I can confirm however, that it had nothing to do with a dodgy curry.

On this Bank Holiday night we had a stomach wrenching loathing to go to bed (this is the last time I feel the need to make such a reference - not together). A trip which would only hasten the morning’s loathsome journey to the office. We talked the idea through to the early morning. And the idea was something that stimulated us both.

In the ensuing weeks the business became all consuming, an intrusive titan with a vice-like grip on every minute of our lives. Days and nights merged into one but the rush was mesmerising. From the madness of pre-breakfast chats, through to dinnertime field trips. Then on to brain-storming sessions with scrolls of paper covering every inch of the living room floor. Before finally limping to bed for a while before again crossing early morning to-do list minefield.

The business had already served its purpose to propel ourselves from our enveloping self pity in to an oasis of optimism and self -fulfilment.

Come the November, 6-months on - we had triumphantly baton exchanged the template website to our design team, ahead of a short trip to launch. We charged through the doors of Newcastle airport that very same day for a celebratory sojourn to Italy. Good times of course, can never last forever.

Next time will be back on the pass in Milano (or MilaNOOOO!!!!!!) What happened was monumentally stupid.

Afterthought......... Saturday's Guardian portrayed a taxi drivers harrowing life-long plight. The revelation that many expect to clear £35-£40k a year makes me less inclined to sympathise. Particularly, this Christmas when one conveniently forgot that my friend had paid him £17 at drop off-one - doubling my fare.