Finding time...

I always suspected the challenge for me in undertaking this was going to be finding the time to run every day, and Friday was the ultimate challenge for that so far. I have to admit, I am also finding the running quite difficult, but I'm sure it will get better. Sally emailed the team recently to say that the website where we are recording our times and distances has been changed, and now allows you to add longer distances than your challenge. This is fortuitous, as I rather hope that at some point I will feel like running more than three miles - although admittedly, this certainly hasn't happened yet. I imagine it will when Dave suggests I go running with him.

Anyway, the run on Friday was a challenge. I just didn't know when I could do it. It's all very well for Nigel and moustachioed Chris to go for a run at 6 in the morning, but I personally am unable to do this. The reason being that after rehearsal on Thursday night, I went to the pub with Jonni and Rich, and we had a lovely chat, then I was VERY naughty and went to that kebab shop I'd seen earlier to get a bag of chips; and then I went to bed, and it just got to be very very late. I know, on a school night too. But I had it all worked out... it's a bank holiday weekend, and I plan to Spring clean (house and garden, weather permitting, but I'll settle for the house if it doesn't), rest lots, and eat very healthy food with lots of veg, to get myself fighting fit. I'm always bad at going to bed, and try to resolve to go to bed earlier, and usually end up being worse than ever. I shamelessly stole this from Facebook... (thank you Relaxx Pleasse) as it sums it up pretty well. Basically, no, I didn't go running before work on Friday.

So, there was Friday lunchtime, and Friday evening. Now Friday lunchtime would ordinarily be a good bet, but the problem was I had a hair appointment. I'd actually moved this from Saturday, after I found that my lovely hair dresser only had an 8:30 appointment. See above for why this would have been a bad idea. It seems criminal to have your hair cut and made all beautiful, and then go for a run, although I did contemplate it because Laura finished in half an hour, and with a bit of flexi, I could have stretched lunchtime a bit. But I had (or thought I had) a meeting at half two with my boss, so I thought I'd better not. In the event, he didn't show up, so I could have done, but my psychic skills were flagging. Laura was mightily impressed that I could run three miles, let alone every day, which was charming.

After work then...? Well, you know what happens on Fridays... it's the end of a week, and a group of my friends tend to convene in a local hostelry and discuss the week's events over a beverage or two. I'd just about settled on the idea that I was prepared to walk for 3 miles today (walking's allowed as long as you do the distance) and wondered if I had too many, whether 1.5 miles in a zigzag line would count? But then, as the Friday night Plan came together, people said they were quite happy to go home and get some food first (and walk the dog), and then meet up, which was perfect, and enabled me to properly suffer the run, and not skive.

So, homeward, and togged up, I set off. No bare foot shoes today, I'm thinking of a plan for the weekend. First thing was, I ran into Keith! It wasn't entirely unexpected, I knew he was on his way home, but for someone who has technically left Peterborough, it counts as note-worthy (reason: he hasn't sold his house yet). He has rather brilliantly sponsored me a whole £30, and he always likes to put an incentive into his donations: usually it will be something like, £1 for the first 12 miles, £19 for the last 1.1 miles! So, when he emailed me to say he would try to think of an incentive, I checked out my Just Giving page straight away! (You should too...  Just Giving). He'd written: £2 for the first week, £4 for week 2, £8 for week three, and £16 for week 4! This is very apposite. Just think how much I'll be struggling by then. I shall try not to. Anyway, we wished each other good weekends, and I plodded on. The rain, or rather, missle, started very gently at about 2km. Refreshing.

On Newark Avenue, thinking about friends who had posted about Star Wars (because of it being May 4th) I digressed to Dr Who. I'm not sure why, but Sal, and her aura of power, crept into my mind at about the same time as The Master. It fitted very well, apart from the obvious point of The Master being male. It struck me that as The Master is the adversary of The Doctor, then surely, by extension of the metaphor, that means that I must therefore be The Doctor. Which was nice, because I like being a scientist, and have always wanted to be a Doctor. (So proud of the slack researchers at The Telegraph who awarded me a PhD... so it is official.). And then it all fitted together... the Doctor being a time traveller, and all, and me having sorted out my time crisis.

My friends were overwhelmed at my modesty, later on in the pub, when I expounded this idea.

Finding sponsors in unlikely places

Let me tell you, they don't just give a warm welcome in Cullen, they know how to throw a good party too. We headed over to the Crannoch for lunch, before the wedding, and consequently hadn't togged up. It seemed the way to it - the bride seemed casually attired for a wedding, in jeans and a t-shirt that read "Keep Calm and Swally On" - I heard her translate it for a child (thankfully) as "keep drinking". And once again, Brenda set us up with a fine meal. Cullen Skink was on the menu (it's soup), although I have to confess to going for deep-fried Camembert, followed by a roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. I felt it was wise to accompany this with soda water, for self-preservation. In all honesty, having this lunch might be the only reason why I'm alive.

Back home, we set to getting the glad-rags on, and I finished the morning's blog, and suitably adorned, we set out, umbrella-clad, into what was now a convincing rain, and made it back to the Crannoch, which I was starting to pick up was a bit of a focal point. Heather was interested to know if there would be any kilts there, which made me laugh, as it was about the only thing I had as a fixed guarantee in my head (long years of knowing Susie has taught me to "expect the unexpected" which was why I didn't make a single comment about the jeans and t shirt). I wasn't mistaken either, there was a fine set of kilts available - and furthermore, they came in all sizes! The first thing that happened was that Jimmy offered me, with a haunted look on his face, a whisky. "Yes please, Jimmy!" I said, but knew that this burnt bridge was going to be a tough one to rebuild. In fact, I almost nulled the whole wedding on account of it, because not long after this, we made our way through to the room where the wedding was taking place, and I'd got right past the usher, who was also my host, Steven, clutching my whisky. He spotted me, however, and confiscated it, explaining that it was against the law to serve alcohol in that room for 24 hours prior to the wedding. So technically, we can have the wedding nulled, although I didn't drink any. I asked Steve to put it somewhere safe for me, which he did.

The wedding was just simply lovely, especially the vows that Susie and Bruce read out, which had all the girls in tears, including one of the bridesmaids. Little Robbie demanded loudly "Why's she greetin', mam?" although his mother wasn't able to answer so I chipped in "Robbie, it's for the same reason you're mam's crying, and I'm crying, and Sarah's crying... we're girls. You'll never understand. It's an important lesson in life". There was something of a lull in the crying when Susie whipped a hanky out of her cleavage for Lauren, which made everyone laugh. After the wedding, amid the photographer trying to capture her subjects (inbetween rain showers and umbrellas) there were a few toasts to be had, cake to be cut, and a little more whisky to be drunk. The smaller Robbie had nicked off with his parents' camera at this point, and was surprising people in thrusting it into their faces at unsuspecting moments and snapping, then laughing at the result. I have to say, though, he got a pretty good one of me.

It was just after Iain showed up and had secured a double whisky for me, that Susie popped into the bar. "Right, the piper's here to pipe us up the road to the reception" she said. "Drink up". "Now?" I queried, looking at the golden amber in my glass, which seemed rather full. "What's the problem? Down it". she told me. I asked the bar staff if I could return their glass later, and they seemed uncertain. I teetered on a timeline between now and student days: I felt Jimmy's pain - and drank it back.

I have a few, hazy images of the rest of the night. Joan, for example, had cooked tablet (which is Scottish for fudge) for 150 people. I danced the Gay Gordon's with Iain, and stood on Jimmy's feet (I subsequently blamed my dance partner), and Strip the Willow (my favourite). There was a lovely spread of food, and more drinking, and more dancing. And some dressing up from people in the most unlikely attire. I think we had the Beetles AND the Pink Ladies from Grease, but I could be mistaken. And at some point I agreed to/demanded to go for a walk up the beach. On the way home from that, we passed Jimmy and Paddy's, who were still entertaining, and Jimmy asked us in for whisky. It should be clear that at this point there was only once answer, as I couldn't disappoint Jimmy. Paddy asked if she could give me a tenner towards my sponsorship, and at some undefined time later, I left (after two drams) with what turned out to be £37 that I'd fleeced from their various guests. When I looked in to say cheerio the next day, they were still reeling from my having persuaded one Dougie to give me £7. Apparently it had been a hard sell.

All I can say is that when Alastair came to fetch me on Sunday morning, he took one look at me, and said "Well, look what the cat dragged in."