Arse Calf and Horsey Legs

As the total passes £2,000, I am overwhelmed by the numerous, generous donations and messages of goodwill and support . I think this means that the shiney chap on the Nivea for Men advert is wrong and Britain is probably not broken. Now you've got me started.... I watched Cleggy, Compo and the other one on Thursday as they went head to head (to head) at our University. (Finally we knew why on Wednesday there were policemen on campus up to their necks in our drains). Following the Tweets on #Leadersdebate was worthwhile. Best of the night was: "I think at this point Brown should take his eye out just because he can and Cameron can't", closely followed by a belated: "No Iceland! No! We said "Send all your cash. That's cash!"".

Bit of a break in training last weekend and climbed up Scafell and Coniston Old Man. Variety might help me not to peak too early (Geddit! ............. did you see what I did there?). Wanted to get some hills in as a friend had warned of the dangers of my training plan leading to 'arse calf'. Not too worried about this as it is, of course, 'horsey legs' that keeps cyclists awake at night. Anyway, I think they might cancel each other out somehow. Two low points in the day. First, while grunting up the final slope to the peak of Scafell, panting and sweating, we were overtaken by fell runners (83 if they were a day) who each looked as fit as a butcher's dog. Second, on the way down as we passed a father and son, Liz asked the boy if he'd climbed to the top. "Yes, and I'm only five". Self-congratulation is so unpleasant sunbeam. We rehydrated in what is, quite possibly, the best pub in the world at the foot of Scafell. Mercifully free of whippet-like fell runners and bouncy five year olds, so we could congratulate ourselves in peace.