I was absolutely stunned that we won a BAFTA and still cannot quite believe it – a great compliment to everyone who worked so hard to make the film under such difficult conditions. To beat big budget films like Cold Mountain (saw it last week – interminable), Girl with a Pearl ear-ring and Love Actually was a shock.
Yes, it is a shame that Simon has taken the stance that he has, but then again, we had drifted far apart in the intervening years so I don’t think it particularly bothers either of us. Simon has his own take on the film and the people involved in it which seems irrational bordering on the paranoid to me but then I do not live his life. Both our lives have been defined, and in some ways fixed, by the success of the book and now the film. For the most part it has had its advantages. Simon may well not like being the man who cut the rope anymore than I like being the apparent victim. When I wrote the book in the attic of John Stevenson’s house 18 years ago, penniless, on the dole and recovering from my injuries, I had no idea that all these years later the story would still be talked about. It has been a roller-coaster ride and in recent months I seem to be hurtling down a particularly steep bit!
My view is to move on, look to the future not the past and I feel pretty sure Simon feels the same way. His circle of close friends, his values and relationships are what are fundamental to his life and they have little to do with mine. It appears that he has fallen out with all of us. I have fallen out with no-one but do not really care either way. Life goes on.
What does not change is my view of what Simon did on Siula Grande. He put his life on the line to save mine and it is something I will be forever indebted to him for. Bravery is defined by choice. I had no choices. Simon could have left me. It was brave, heroic, even bordering on the reckless to do what he did. I feel the book and the film have been careful to portray Simon’s immense role in the story. Without him there would be nothing.
I am aware that much of the publicity has been centered on me but that is simply because Simon refused to take any part in it and the entire burden of the publicity tour fell to me. Not that many journalists wanted to talk to Kevin Macdonald.
If I had attended the BAFTAS as invited, I think I would have disgraced myself by punching Kevin Macdonald when he failed to thank anyone else involved in the film. That sort of behaviour is unacceptable. However I felt that a night in my local was infinitely preferable to spending endless hours with a bunch of luvvies congratulating themselves all night and we had a great laugh at the po-faced expressions and resentful applause of those who failed to win. Must have been a real bummer to lose out to a low budget two-bit climbing film – made the beer taste great!
I am not quite sure whether it is a wise idea to make occasional replies to the
various forums on the website. I can’t respond to every comment, so perhaps these updates will serve to add my thoughts to some of the topics and perhaps ocassionally prompt a new topic.
Amidst the welter of amusing, alarming and somewhat confusing speculation in some of the forums I would like to point out that contrary to popular opinion ‘the absence of female relationships of any depth… and long suffering female 'friends’’ in my books is somewhat deliberate. I don’t actually do long suffering females. I have quite enough deep female relationships, thank you, but they are strictly my business. Who, how and where I love doesn’t seem to have a great deal of relevance to the subjects I write about. They are very relevant however to the strength and security of my personal life. They are also very private and as one contributor pointed out I am allowed to keep some things private.
I also have fairly strong views about climbing and children but they are purely personal and I have no criticisms of those who combine family and mountains. It is their choice and their conscience.
It has never been a problem for me since I have no desire whatsoever to have children, nor do I understand them. They are a mystery I never wished to delve into as well as being desperately expensive, life consuming and ambition compromising. I’m quite happy to live a lonely old age after a lifetime of fun (if I get the chance) than breed on the off chance that any of the little buggers will be around when I need them. A little selfish perhaps, or maybe just honest. Apologies to all parents out there.
As for female relationships they are the most important mainstay of my life providing me with more friendship, care, advice and guidance than all of my male friends put together. I have forged an easy balance between the two and have a life richer as a consequence.
The vitriolic press attacks on Alison Hargreaves, most notably by female journalists who only months before had been praising her as an icon of modern motherhood and feminity after her extraordinary solo ascent of Everest, were appalling. I know of no male friends who have orphaned their children ever be subject to such criticism bordering on abuse. Those women, Nigella Lawson included, should be ashamed of themselves for their double standards.
It does seem to me however that people love you for who you are and that is as much defined by what you do as anything else. Alison was a wonderful mother and a superb mountaineer, not because she was a woman, simply because she was extraordinary. She was ambitious and driven but at the core of her life was the love for her children. She was using all the talents she had to forge a lifestyle and upbringing for them that she could be proud of. She died violently and alone but I feel sure her last conscious thought were for her children. Policewoman, female RAF pilots and firefighters are not condemned for their choice of profession and nor should she be.
My taste in music does not run to Boney-M. It was a dreadful song and I think it was a last desperate ruse by my brain to keep me hanging in there. Ironically we had to pay them £25,000 to use that clip of awful music because it was re-mixed. Still can’t believe I’ve managed to line their pockets.

Joe, Sheffield, 23rd February 2004.