No Snickering Please.

This weekend I am running again. It’s the Robin Hood half marathon in Nottingham (surprisingly enough) and I am massively ill-prepared.

When I ran the marathon I was very focussed indeed. I had a plan. I stuck to the plan come what may and the resulting statistics were something that I was quite proud of:

• Miles: 480
• Hours: 87
• Calories: 58,000

This time around, although I had a jolly good plan, I exhibited all the self discipline of a labrador left in charge of a plate of sausages. Consequently the figures look a little* less confidence-inspiring:

• Miles: 28
• Hours: 5
• Calories: 3,700

Add to this I have a very busy week this week, culminating with a leaving do for a couple of colleagues on Friday that will doubtless involve a sherbet or two and just possibly we are witnessing the genesis of a disaster.

But with all the misplaced confidence of a flamboyantly handlebar-moustachioed World War 1 General I am looking forward to standing on the start line on Sunday. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.

NDC

* - a lot.

Reasons Why Turkey Is Ace.

• Why just import the leading brand get-pissed-quick alcohol for the holidaymakers when you can get a cheaper version with a name that will make it virtually indistinguishable from the original item and appeal to the Irish.

• On the drive to the airport, on a major route (pretty much the equivalent of a major A road in the UK) there is a tunnel with single carriageway in each direction. The incline through the tunnel is quite steep and on the uphill entrance is a sign with a picture of a horse and cart with a line through it, just in case you were tempted. I presume that the downhill stretch doesn't have this sign on the basis that you can load your horse into the cart and keep up with the flow of traffic.

• Of course four cars driving abreast will fit on a three lane road.

• The maximum number of passengers allowed by law on a moped appears to be a complex equation involving figures ascribed to the bravery of the potential passengers multiplied by the rider's sense of balance/adventure. Livestock appear to be a null value.

• If you fall off the edge of anything, you've only got yourself to blame.

• Dolmus'. They're brilliant for any number of reasons but are even funnier when the English are involved.

Drinking a Martini of an evening as the sun goes down is pretty excellent too. Roll on the next one.

NDC

The Devil doesn't wear Animal.

At the risk of sounding deeply effeminate, I have a question for you:

Do you think that shoes can convey emotion?

I do.

May I present exhibit A, my favourite pair.

They say 'happy'. And the sand-dusted dishevelledness says 'relaxed'.

NDC