The plan was to enjoy football, enjoy coaching, enjoy making a difference. The best laid plans of mice and men... I thought I could genuinely help, I was an okay footballer, a half decent hospitality manager, with my basic coaching badge tucked under my arm, I thought it would be possible to help a talented bunch of individuals become more of a team, more of a force and achieve something to be proud of. I think I missed a few tricks. I never wrote 'believe' on an A3 piece

Paddington Takes to TV The whole blooming day. Not just a couple of hours, almost the whole waking day in front of the TV. I am so hungry. Did I mention the whole day in front of the TV? Although, I've watched this episode before, let's rewind and watch it again. Oh, that's correct, I've fallen asleep again, in front of the TV. After the 10th marathon, physio and awards, there was a mad dash to the kennels to pick up Echo and try to get back in time for the final dinner w

The Adventures of Paddington Indifferent. That was my description of today. Some bits I felt I could almost run, others I had to walk, some were a struggle to even raise a jog. It started off so well. no aches, no pains and felt comfy to run. Stu and I were 'bimbling' away, chatting inanely and the yards and miles rolled by all the way to Hawkshead. It was nice to chat to someone, other than myself, who I cannot seem to get a coherent conversation from, and not notice th

Paddington Marches On It's hazy, although some details crystal clear, the emotions, raw and unfiltered. Another nightmare. I'm in a house, I'm downstairs, with a child, not sure who's child but a young person, maybe 5 or 6 years old. The kettle is on, we're at the kitchen table, warm sunlight is streaming in but it doesn't feel like the afternoon. The click of the kettle, the muffled tick of a clock, light chirps of birds, but then a shocked, short shriek and a very defini

Urghh! Aargh! Yukk! My daily chore, twice, sometimes three times a day. Who likes sticking their hand in a plastic bag and wrapping...

A few weeks ago, the teenager and I had a blow out. A real bluey. A shouting match, which neither won. About what? Well, on the...

What's that phrase, poor preparation leads to p.p. performance? I know myself too well. Earlier in the week, I'd cleared my diary so I...

Doesn't everybody have an Aunty Dot or at the very least know an Aunty Dot? I bet she got invited to the wedding? Most month's on waking...

Many years ago, when running became a ‘thing’ for me, I decided to try and raise funds for Brathay Trust through (in part) writing this...

Searching for human acknowledgement...

Diary Day 10 of the Brathay 10in10 (ten marathons in 10 days).