Drunken Mayhem

I have been accused of getting too serious about running and taking it to extremes by posting piccies of my lovely new shiny white shoes.

Well, as if by magic and as instructed I did indeed have a weekend of drunken mayhem!
It all kicked off on Friday by what is known in these parts as a 'straightfae'. You know when you get on it straight from work?

Well, left the office at 3pm. Our meal for eleven was drastically reduced to seven as a result of illness and injury. Poor Malcolm had to endure the maniacal witterings of six female colleagues who 'aint been out in a while. The baby of the office let the side down badly by announcing that 15:30hrs was far too early to start drinking, wtf!! what is it with the youth of today? One large glass of red wine, a three course lunch, two raspberry martinis and a Morgans 'n' diet coke got the night off to a good start ;-)



Gorgeous Kit is the first to bail. Followed soon after by Malcolm, who cuts away early to tend to his husbandly duties followed swiftly by the gaffer and the baby. I thought these guys were hardcore. I've heard stories of 5am karaoke sessions. It's barely 19:30 and we are reduced to three. Ten minuets later we are plotted up in an old man's pub serving 35ml measures, not all bad.

It's quiet for a Friday, save for a rather rowdy crowd of blokes with suits and ties. Football team? not pretty enough. Rugby team? not buff enough. Just out of jail, or court at least. Almost right, turns out they are CID. Diddies the lot of them.

Another drink girls, don't mind if I do. And so it continued for quite sometime. Voices becoming more high pitched and giggling aplenty. Get a round of shots in, followed swiftly by another. The singing starts. Out of key, out of tune and out of order. My two companions are lightweights and bailed before midnight. Up the road in a cab in a blizzard. Bugger, I'm a night owl and in the absence of my normal late night phone call and online jam session I have a wee bit of greendot action with my antipodean greatmate Corned Beef, who is equally worse for wear.

Saturday sees me having a long walk and a cheeky wee glass of red in the pub with my Ma' n Da'. I meet up with my besto and her bro for a few wee vimto's and the whole thing starts over again. Suffice to say that if you ever come across a bottle of Sailor Jerry you're in for a good night ;-) Have a very short blether with the Pirate at 2am, the poor lamb is on a 36hrs exersice (hence the drunken mayhem....home alone) Get to bed at 4am and worry ever so slightly that I might not do very well on my run today!

I needn't have though. I must have been hanging round with the Pirate too long. Water off a ducks back. Cracking run. I had one last section of the Clyde Walkway to recy and with a wee bit of retracing my steps I managed 10 miles. A mere warm up for all you crazies out there, but for me, an achievement.

So a weekend of drunken mayhem it was. I must be getting old. I had an offer of an evening of nice wine, great conversation, wit, humor and only the merest mention of bottoms and I knocked it back. Two nights back to back is one thing. Three is just plain crazy.
Pass the port ;-)

My new shiny white shoes....... are a lovely shade of muck and shuch. I didn't even tell you about the cows ;-)

Hasta,
Mrs Mac x

And The Winner Is???

A pretty major disaster struck and emergency plan B had to come in to play.

My colleague and Yummy Mummy Ann, got herself carted off to hospital last night and dropped me right in the proverbial.

Plan A would have seen her collect the baby of the firm from a road side hotel on the M8 and bomb it along to Embra toon, where I would meet up with them at our conference this morning. We were up for an award and Ann was the man with the plan. She was the one prepped by the organisers to have a speech ready and what it should contain. Shoe in, defo red carpet moment, must remember to thank my agent.

Reality being I had to take a massive detour from my planned bit of back road action and an extra half hour in my scratcher to rendevous at the Dakota (what that all about?? all blacked out and mysterious looking)

Holy shit, 40 minuets to travel a mile and a half!! Nearly two and a half hours on the M8 did not set me up well for my moment of glory. I really should have gatecrashed Corned Beef's gaff and kipped there last night.

A whole days conference of stuff that I already knew for a half hour award ceremony, even my gaffer who travelled East to make the acceptance speech to save me from making an arse of myself was losing the will to live.

Eventually, the music struck up and in flounced a geezer in a tin flute and bow tie and a burd in a floor length sparkly number. It was a physical activity conference?!?

My gaffer and I all dry mouthed and sweaty palmed. Waited in anticipation.


And the winner is............

Drum roll.......

Da Da !!


NOT US


Cue fake smiley faces and muttering under our breath.

So, Ann, the Yummy Mummy who tried her hand at bed blocking, as well as being a project officer; was a podiatrist and physio for a few Scottish fitba teams in a past life.

Asked her to check out my plates of meat a few weeks ago. Rolled up my trouser leg and flexed and stretched a bit.

How does it look Ann?

How the hell can you run? Your feet are f*cked.

So, justly humiliated I take myself of to Athelite with news of my 'severely over pronated' right foot and pleaded for help.

Good service is not often commented on, people like to moan, but the lassie there was brilliant.

I searched for it. But found no trace of ' what's this wobbly bumed wummin doing in my shop looking for serious running shoes' etched across her face. She got me out of Asics for the first time in six years and into a pair of Brooks Adrenaline GTS 10. OMG I'm in lurve. They are amazing.

True Romance

Oh I’m so bad at this.

I’ve said before how when I’ve got something to say I 'aint got time to write and when I’ve got time I ‘aint got nuttin to say.

Well, blimey have I been busy!!!

That crazy man MacDonald has turned me into a bloody race organiser. Before I had the chance to make my usual excuses I had been convinced about how great an idea it was. So come the 17^th of July I’ll bee standing at Partick Railway Station poised to shout “GO!”

The Clyde Stride has taken over my life in the last couple of months, but I am loving it. Weekends spent reccying the route and trying to prevent the Pirate from getting lost. Quality!!

The funniest thing to happen recently is Jon Steele asking for me to help Mike Mason man a checkpoint on the Hardmoors 55 on March 20^th. OMG can you imagine it? the pair of us shacked up together for hours with poor unsuspecting runners to abuse. I better be on my best behaviour though. I hear he a bit of a face in the Essex underworld :-}

So it was Valentines Day this week. Awwwww how romantic? Gorg red roses (which cost a fortune, or so I’m told) and a lovely dinner .Yeah but before that I was dragged round a mud bath of an 8 mile run, just for fun.

I never used to “do” Valentines. Maybe I had the right idea.