The London Marathon
“Come for a bike ride to see the Marathon”, Gemma & Paul enticed me with on Saturday evening.
“Sounds good,” said I, foolishly, “although I am not going if it rains.”
And lo, it rained, but I couldn’t chicken out.
And rained.
And rained.
But at least we got to see a fair bit of the marathon, and cheered on the people running with crazy outfits. As a guide, to make it easier for me next time, please:
- write your name clearly on the front of your shirt;
- wear a wacky outfit; and,
- try not to look like you are going to kill me if I shout your name.
Then I will cheer you all the way to the finish line. As long as my legs don’t hurt. From standing in the same place for an hour.
I am such a wimp.
[And, Mr Horn-Beeper on the Kennington Road, I was going slowly because I am on a bike, and not just to pee you off, so lay off next time, OK?]