The phone rings. It’s my sister-in-law to thank me for sponsoring her husband Stuart (my brother), in his bid to climb all three of the highest mountains in Ireland in a week, a challenge he will be undertaking in April.

“But —” Erica continues, “did you see the note W left on Stuart’s JustGiving page? Stuart’s quite annoyed about it.”

Oh, no. What’s W done now?

“Go and have a look. Then call me back.”

So I find Stuart’s charity web page and scroll down the list of donations: “£20. Best wishes, Stuart! Don’t be tempted to run back down! Dave & the boys; £10. Good luck mate! Sheila & Mark; £35 etc” and finally reach Mr W’s contribution, which reads: “£25. Have a good holiday. W.”

I found his rather public cynicism quite refreshing, even amusing. I mean, certainly I had never regarded my brother as any kind of mountaineer.

“Exactly!” enthuses Mr W triumphantly, when I tell him. “Absolutely absurd! One thousand metres! Whole families do it on a Sunday afternoon, in winter. And they —” I walk away as he continues ranting and phone my sister-in-law to say how sorry Mr W is and that he’d completely misread the seriousness of the ... er, challenge.

“Stuart says if W will make a further donation, and just wipe off his earlier message, he’ll forget all about it.”

I relay this news to Mr W. Half an hour later he returns and shows me the new version, which reads: “£50. May the road rise up to meet you! The W Family.”

The next evening my sister-in-law phones to thank us and says that there has been a further, “possibly offensive” message from an “Annabel and family” saying that they had done the challenge, with her mother and the kids, and exhorting “Stu” to “stay off the Guinness!”

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