Blogling along (JOGLE BLOGLE +20)

Right you lot, pay attention.

Take you hands out of your pockets, tuck your shirt in and you in the corner – stop slouching like that.

I thought that I ought to tell you about the Blogle.

Yes, that’s what this is, glad some of you have been listening at least.

As you know there are only 20 short days until Steve sets off from John O’Groats and heads south (after a bit of fiddling about at the start – see Jogle Blogle +40 days).

All through the journey – a grand total of 65 days – there will be a daily Blogle informing you of progress. Miles traveled, how many sheep he’s seen, number of blisters, that sort of thing. 

I know, exciting stuff indeed.

Now, and far be it from me to blow my own trumpet, during this feat (or should that be feet, ha ha. I make myself laugh sometimes) of endurance, there will be another unsung, unappreciated and dare I say, undervalued marathon taking place.

Really, yes!

Normally I’d be far too modest to mention it, but – stop sniggering – writing a Blogle a day for such a length of time to keep you sorry lot entertained is, for a one fingered typist such as myself, quite a massive undertaking. It will be achieved only by drinking copious amounts of coffee (black, no sugar thank you), clamping my tongue firmly between my lips and squinting myopically at my iPad – other makes of tablet are available.

I’ve even bought a new chair so that I can be chilled as I write. Yes I know that Steve will be suffering for this venture, but quite frankly I don’t see that I should have to as well!

Here’s a piccie of Blogle HQ.

The Blogle is aiming to average somewhere around 250 words, with pictures as available from the Jogler himself thanks to the wonders of modern technology and the availability of a mobile signal from the more remote parts of the adventure.

It will be interesting to see exactly how many different ways there are of saying that my brother is walking from John O’Groats to Land’s End for charity.

I’ll try to shake it up a bit, I promise.

Pardon?

Am I going to make something up if I don’t get word from Steve? 

As if! 

I don’t know how you might think that. Really!?

So I pledge now that if I do happen to miss a Blogle that I’ll chuck ten quid in the kitty to go toward Macmillan Cancer Support for that and any subsequent omissions.

So now you can put your hands back in your pockets, dig deep and donate if you’re in a charitable frame of mind at http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

I’ll also post a running total so that you can see how far he is from his target of £10,000.

In 10 days time we’ll be presenting the first look at the Jogle shirt. (I’ve seen it already – it’s very impressive, with all those corporate sponsors emblazoned across the front and back). See you then.

Over and out. 

And at Easter too!

Just so that you all know, remember this post from Xmas. Well guess what I got for Easter! No, not chocolate eggs. Or fluffy bunnies. Man Flu, that’s what! So just to remind you how bad it can be, I’m reposting my previous religious holiday blog. ‘Cos I can’t be arsed to do a new one. I’m too ill!

Pardon?

Oh, I thought you’d never ask.
But seeing as how you have – and may I just say that I think you took your time, you could clearly see that I was suffering – the answer to your question is, lousy thanks.
Yes I’m off the scale of from one to wretchedness.

Oh, you didn’t ask before because I, ‘looked like I was going to whinge.’
Charming!
As if I’d do that.

Anyway, Kate asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I never expected this.

Bloody man flu!

Of all things!

A few pairs of pants would have been fine quite honestly. I wouldn’t even have expected them to be bloody gift wrapped.
But no, that was obviously not good enough. She wanted me to really suffer, so nothing from Primark thank you very much. Straight to the snots and sore throat department for her. Oh, look over there – headaches on special offer I’ll get him one of those too, he’ll like that.

Thanks a bunch darling.

And all nicely wrapped in a box of man-sized tissues.

What?
Well yes of course she had it first, but that was just a minor girly cold. It’s getting slightly better after a couple of weeks and yes, she did have a few days off work, but even so…

This is serious.

I’m at least twenty four hours in now and I have to tell you that I’m proper poorly.
Feel my forehead.
Go on, don’t be shy.

See, I’m burning up aren’t I?

I’m what!? Slightly warm!?
Well quite frankly I’m glad that you’re not a doctor.
Good grief I’m at death’s sodding door here.

Well yes, I can see how you might think that me wearing a tee shirt, two jumpers a scarf and overcoat under my dressing gown whilst I’m lying on the sofa under a duvet may have elevated my temperature slightly but I can assure you right now that I’m in the grip of a raging fever.
I may even become delirious, I may start raving. Please make allowances if I do say something inappropriate.
What do you mean, ‘how would I know the difference?’
Charming!

Still, it was nice of you to visit.
Would you mind popping the kettle on while you’re here?

No you’ll need more water in than that – fill it to the top.

Did you ask why?

Because I’d like a hot water bottle and a hot toddy please.

Oh, oh, a bit more whiskey than that please. Go on don’t be shy.
No, just chuck the empty bottle over there.
With the rest, yes.
Thank you.

There’s a list on the side there. Shopping yes. If you wouldn’t mind. Not right away of course. When you’ve got time. Although I am running low on tissues. Oh, and I’m not sure if my note makes it clear but could you make sure to get the ones with the soothing balm. A bit gentler on the nose I find, well worth the extra expense. I think it’s important not to be too, shall we say frugal, when it comes to one’s health and well-being.

You’re muttering under your breath again.

Can you overdose on Lemsip?
I just wondered, looking at all these discarded sachets lying on the floor among the tissues. Perhaps I ought to switch back to Paracetamol and cough syrup for a bit to give it chance to get out of my system.

You’re what sorry?

Oh, you’re off.
Well thanks again for coming over.
Very kind.
See I didn’t whinge, did I?
Could you just make sure that the t.v. remote is in reaching distance before you go.
And the telephone handset please.
Yes, just put it next to my pillow there.
In case I have to call an ambulance.

And Sue will walk 500 miles… (JOGLE BLOGLE +30)

30 days now to the big ‘off.’

Yes, that’s right! My brother, Steve Robertson is walking from John O’Goats to Land’s End in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support.

Excited?

Yes I thought you were, you weren’t snoring quite as loudly as usual.

So before we go too far down the road of ‘The Jogle,’ there is something I feel I should own up to. Steve is not doing this alone. I thought you ought to know so that you don’t feel that I have in any way misrepresented the Jogle.

What’s that?

No it’s nothing like the PPI scandal and I…

Say again?

I don’t see how you could possibly claim a refund, I checked just before we started this and you haven’t actually paid anything – yet.

Well no, thinking about donating isn’t the same as actually doing it, is it?

And anyway, you have no idea what it is that I was about to ‘fess up to, do you?

No, I thought not. So if I could just explain…

As I said, Steve is not doing the Jogle alone. He’ll be accompanied for forty per cent of the journey by wife Sue.

Yes, his wife Sue! He’s hardly going to be marching along with some random Sue who happens to be married to someone else, is he? Honestly – will you just let me finish!

Now for those of you who haven’t met him, Steve is tall. Very tall. 

Sue on the other hand, isn’t. 

Tall that is. 

Which is probably why Sue will only be doing forty per cent of the route. For every stride that Steve takes she’ll be doing two and a half. At least. So – not quite half the distance, but the same amount of steps. Explain that to your Fitbit.

But don’t blink or you’ll miss her, she may be small but she’s speedy. In fact the only picture I could get was one of her disappearing into the distance. There was a rush of air and a loud noise which may have been a sonic boom as she sped past.

All this means, dear reader, is that technically speaking Sue should have been sponsored too. 

And she’s not.

Sponsored that is.

So here’s an idea, you know that 10p you were generously and charitably going to donate toward Macmillan Cancer Support? How about making it 20p instead. Just to show willing.

You know it makes sense. Here’s the link to Steve’s just giving page. http://bit.ly/2Tzmjwi

In the meantime they’ll both be out training this Easter holiday weekend somewhere around here in the Black Country, so I suggest that you keep a sharp lookout – otherwise you may get trampled in the rush!

We’ll be back in ten days as the countdown continues.

 

 

 

A small step for a man (Jogle Blogle +40)

With only 40 days to go to the start of the Jogle, dear reader, I thought that I might fill you in on the early part of Steve’s journey from John O’Groats to Lands End – the Scottish experience – for want of a better expression. 

As I’ve told you before, Steve sets out on the 18th. May and…

Pardon?

Yes I did, you obviously weren’t listening – again!

So, just so you can get out there and wave your Saltire’s at him as he passes, here’s a quick heads up of the first part of the route.

Excuse me?

No, a Saltire isn’t a sea breeze, it’s the Scottish flag.

Yes, the blue one with the white stripey bits, as you so eloquently put it.

Anyway, from John O’Groats he’ll head – North!

I know, I know, that’s what I thought. I’ll hear the splash from here in Stourbridge! 

But once my intrepid brother had explained why, it all became clear. So if you’ll indulge me for a while I shall try to clarify exactly what’s going on.

Imagine for a moment the summer of ‘69.

What?

No, not the song. I’m talking about the Apollo space mission.

Yes, it is comparable as you’ll soon see.

Neil Armstrong, Buzz and the other bloke no one can ever remember didn’t blast straight off to the moon you know, oh no, no, no.

First off the three men I admire the most had to drive their Chevy from the levee, hitch up the Saturn V rocket and tow it off to the launch pad.

And that’s what’s happening here.

Steve will stumble out of bed, eat a hearty breakfast…

No, I guess you’re probably right. He is about to embark on an athletic endeavour after all, so he’ll probably be eating something that looks and tastes as though it’s dropped out of a squirrel’s backside.

Then he’ll strap on his rucksack, step out into the storm and make his way – North (that’s uphill to you and me) to the Duncansby Head lighthouse which is along the road from his B & B and the official starting point of this adventure.

Then, splashing through the puddles and hunched against the driving rain, he’ll head back the way he’s just come and begin the long journey south.

Now you may recall that the aforementioned Mr. Armstrong said something about, ‘a small step for a man,’ as if he’d just done something truly momentous. Personally I don’t think he’d entirely thought that through, after all he’d been sitting on his bum for the entire journey. Okay, now you could argue that it was a half million mile round trip without decent ‘facilities’ to put it delicately, but he did have a rocket up his backside. Steve on the other hand will be marching the length of this British Isle, and get this, on his own legs!

Nowhere near the seven and a half million pounds of thrust those idle astronauts had. Now I think you’ll agree that it’s impossible for Steve to generate anywhere near that amount of power, after all it’s surely not humanly possible to eat such a quantity of beans at one sitting. So I think I know whose the greater achievement will be, don’t you?

Here’s his first weeks itinerary.

18th May, first stop Wick.

19th. May Day 2 – Latheron

20th. May Day 3 – Helmsdale

21st. May Day 4 – Golspie

22nd. May Day 5 – Tain

23rd. May Day 6 – Evanton

24th. May Day 7 and at last somewhere I’ve heard of, albeit in a bawdy rugby song about 24 young ladies of righteous virtue – Inverness.

Get out there and cheer him on. 

And if you’re feeling charitable, here is the link to his just giving page in aid of those wonderful people from Macmillan Cancer Support.

‘Got my first real six string, bought it at the five and dime, played it till my fingers bled, was the summer of…’

Oops, was that out loud? For some reason I can’t get the tune out of my head.

Can’t think why?

If you haven’t caught the previous posts regarding the Jogle, why not? Tsk! You’ll find them below.