Marathons and Murders

Well which ‘M’ should I deal with first? I think I had better confess to the murders. It features Mr Usain Bolt (my mouse). In fact Usain has been out into the big wide world and acquired a wife. In fact, I think that he is a good Muslim mouse and he has acquired up to four wives. I have spied them on training runs doing circuits of my kitchen. On my way out of the house this morning I spied chewed up pieces of material and wood on the floor underneath my make shift settee (a folded double mattress covered in a sheet). As I lifted up the corner of the mattress there to greet me were the fruits of Usain’s labours (I should think Mrs Bolt had more to do with the labour side of things). Six (not three) blind, squirming pink little mice. What was I to do? As I was late for work, quick thinking was in order. I used my diary to scoop them onto a plate and then deposited them under a bush outside. When I got home from work there was no sign apart from a lizard sitting on the wall with a very contented smile on its face. Please forgive me Mr and Mrs Bolt.


The second M was just as painful but in a different way. About three months ago when the new volunteers came out my new running mate informed me that he was doing the Brufut half marathon and would I like to do it. So I said I would if I hadn’t already flown home for Xmas which is what happened last year (I was secretly hoping I’d be well on my way back to the UK). As luck would have it we broke up a week later so I was committed. Our training went well, we were used to the heat and we managed a couple of longer runs along sandy African tracks. ‘M’ day came and the start was only 45 minutes late which is good going for Gambia. The problem was that I don’t think the concept of fun running has reached The Gambia. The opposition all seemed to resemble male and female Mo Farah looky likies. The gun went and they were off leaving a trail of smoke behind them while the V.S.O. contingent were left to bring up the rear. A little bit like the hare and tortoise except in this case the hare did not go to sleep and the tortoise never caught up. The ambulance did keep checking the back markers every now and then to see if we were still in the land of the living and hand out the odd bag of water. We got a fine reception into Brufut, lots of clapping, cheering and most disconcertingly hysterical laughter. I tried to look behind me to see if I’d split my shorts or I’d done a Paula Radcliff and peed myself but I couldn’t get to the bottom of what caused the mirth. Thankfully my colleagues had the same treatment as they came in. Maybe they just couldn’t believe their eyes. We did it and raised a few bob in the process. Not something I’ll be rushing to repeat in the near future though.

June’s tip for the month - Remember small pink wiggly things turn into fast fertile furry things!

Before

After and still smiling