Fresh Air

On with the vest, shirt, pullover with thermal lining, Fortnum's best insulated work trousers, thick socks, fake Timberland boots, warm jacket and a hat.  The day dawned bright and glistening, but not cold enough for the path through the woods to be frozen - I'd to navigate a sea of mud on the way to a briefing at a layby on the Common.  What's all this about?  The Disgustedville half-marathon, which I was marshalling at the corner nearest home.  The organisers feed a little into a number of local charities that provide marshals, including the local Citizens' Advice Bureaux.  I was teamed up with a retired Colonel, who chairs the said CAB.  We'd met at committee meetings, but it was good to have the chance to get to know each other a bit better.  Delightful fellow.

Somehow, quite a few cars made it through the cordons, and one dame in a small red Toyota nearly took out one of the competitors.  An angry white van man and his mate threatened to drive through at one point, but a spot of military/judicial diplomacy and firmness sent him back the way he'd come.  Most people were very understanding, but some were bolshy, despite lots of advance publicity about road closures. 

We were stationed just before the ten mile marker, at the end of a long gentle upward slope, so people were plainly starting to hurt.  Lots of encouragement: 'That was the worst bit!'  'Almost at the ten mile marker!'  'Only three miles to go!'.  The leader was a good quarter mile ahead of the field.  Interesting point of etiquette: a lot of the more experienced runners made a point of saying 'thank you, marshals' as they passed.  Well, we did dissuade quite a few homicidal motorists, I suppose.  One feels good.  The ears have stopped glowing, and the toes have just about thawed.

I finished my latest little daub at class on Thursday.  It is of a boat that has been transported in to decorate an oyster bar next to the salt pans near Gruissan.  It couldn't have sailed or motored there, since the salt pan is only a few inches deep!  Decorative, nonetheless.  We wouldn't have seen it had the art gallery we'd gone to visit been open at the published hours: we'd gone looking for someone with keys when we stumbled upon it.  I posted the picture on Facebook, and a friend already wants a scaled-up reproduction!  We'll see.

We noticed the other day that one of the hub caps on the VW had gone missing.  'Bugger', I thought, since VW spares are notoriously expensive.  Well, some googling later I found a supplier that wasn't exorbitant.  Since the remaining three were pretty manky, I ordered up and have fitted a full set.  They are now the only part of the car that is approaching clean.  This isn't the season for car-washing, since the roads are covered with grit and salt.  They are also spectacularly pot-holed, so you can spot the drunk drivers by their driving in a straight line, rather than weaving from side to side avoiding the suspension wreckers.