Sunday was Great North Run day, when 50,000 people descended on our town, on foot.
Unfortunately, a devil of a lot more came in cars to watch the "fun" and all the streets were gridlocked with irresponsibly parked vehicles. People double parked, churned up the grass verges and blocked driveways in their desperation to see "Our Tommy" come staggering in after a magnificent time of two hours forty.
I live close to the finish of the Run, so we have to lock our car in the garage for that day and just give up any hopes of getting the damn thing out.
It was a lovely bright day so I took a walk along to the finish to watch the first few thousand come in. I passed a bar where a crowd of full-bellied fellows were (apparently) staging a lager-drinking contest in honour of the run. They were beside themselves with excitement, chanting and gesticulating like a football crowd, bellies jiggling in time with the words of their rhapsodies.
Runners who had finished began to pass. The lager drinkers mocked them, fingers stabbing the air as they chanted their insults. The runners were dying for a pint but there was "no room at the inn". Wearily, they trudged on by.
When I got back home, the cars were clearing the avenue, bumper to bumper with horns tooting. In the gutter lay a full nappy and many other souvenirs of the Run,
Oh well.....it's only once a year.