Parent Races

Last week my children took part in the local village school ‘Cluster’ Fun Run. The ‘cluster’ in question referred to the group of four local village primary schools which took part, although it did mean that for weeks prior I read ‘cluster fun run’ in my calendar as ‘cluster fuck fun’. As it turns out…

Camp Bestival 2017

It’s been a while, but I feel duty bound to report on our annual trip to Camp Bestival, which this year was brought to you by 40mph winds and lashings and lashings of pissing rain. That’s right. The weather could only have been worse if it had literally snowed knives, so pretty different to the…

The makings of a reluctant runner

How do you get from nowhere to being a half marathon smashing dickhead? A bit like this, since you ask… Age 12, cross country running on Wednesday afternoons at school…  Be sure to go to a school on top of a barren, windswept Derbyshire hill where the ‘cross country’ route actually feels like you are…

When you’ve not been out in WAY TOO LONG…

What’s the point of having children at all if you can’t run away and leave them for a spa day with your mates and a civilised night out once every eight years or so eh? Or failing that, a spa day and the cocktail equivalent of a high speed train crash in Nottingham city centre with your…

Going on holiday. By mistake.

“WE’VE GONE ON HOLIDAY BY MISTAKE. We’re in this cottage here. Are you the farmer?” “Stop SAYING that Withnail – of COURSE he’s the fucking farmer” So went my mind for most of my recent half term holiday in North Norfolk, without my husband, with two of my friends, and also with an idiotic number…