You could do so much better than that prat

Just a short post today – London 2 Brighton is on and I feel a trifle more enthused given the commitment for the end of next May. The website and actually registering for the event are another matter. It’s easy if you want to raise for a charity but self-funding, though advertised as an option, appears a mystery as to how to actually register. You always have to select a charity and commit to the minimum sponsorship, which is a minimum £395 (down from £485 last year). There are just so many people raising money for so many very worthy charities that I think I have had my share – everyone was just so generous last year and I can’t keep asking. So I have decided to self-fund, which I believe entails an entry fee of £129 or thereabouts, as opposed to £51. I may have those figures wrong – I haven’t checked them…… I have requested help from the organisers (as they offer) but still keep getting the same link that just doesn’t help. I’ll have to phone them, that will be fun. Talking to people I don’t know, never my strong point.

But it’s given me an incentive to build up a little – and today – a fairly routine route across the Itchen Bridge, past Ocean Village, into Southampton, up the length of The Avenue and then down through Swaythling and Bitterne back to Sarisbury. What I like about going west is that I can really test myself in the last mile up Sarisbury Hill. Over 20 miles in total and I have to be pretty happy with that on a warm afternoon and even in the evening it was only a gentle breeze that cooled me down. Very sweaty for the first 10 miles, that’s for sure. I had to put my radio earphones back in while having a coffee after listening to a bloke madly over-selling himself on what was clearly a first date. I suppose going for a coffee is a very 2015 style first date but he sounded like a saint – and even worse than the Southampton version – he was an atheist, a green campaigner, loves his dog, the perfect everything and had a verbal tic “Now that’s great” on repeat mode whenever he occasionally allowed the poor girl to get a word in edgeways. When he went to the toilet, and by that I mean he visited the facilities rather than just, er, going there and then, I really felt like going up to the girl and saying, “quick, leave now, you could do so much better than that prat” but it would have sounded pervy from a 51 year old to a mildly pretty little thing, someone certainly not yet classified as mid-twenties, I would guess.

So I just kept my counsel, life is so much easier that way.

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