secret obsession

So, I just got back from my first lecture of the year (and, incidentally, my only lecture of the day...) and I'm now parked comfortably in my living room, contemplatively polishing my shoes.

I love polishing shoes. Have I ever mentioned that? It's actually become a strange compulsion. Well, the thing is, I bought some new winter shoes with some birthday money that I got particularly for the purpose. They are, if I do say so myself, completely gorgeous, and it's been bothering me that I can't find my shoe polish from last year.

So, this afternoon I decided to kill two birds with one stone (that's such an awful expression) and took a trip to Morrisons to buy some new shoe polish, and also to pick up my brolly from the lost property. I'd stupidly left it hooked onto my shopping trolley last week after being distracted by battling with the Newcastle wind and attempting to cling to any remaining scrap of dignity as my skirt flew up with gay abandon.

After heaving myself back through Byker I was bloomin' boiling (it appears that 3 layers and a scarf was slight overkill for early October) so settled down for a good ol' polish.

In other news - I WENT RUNNING THIS MORNING! Yes, you heard me right. I am in fact training for the Great North Run (aw man, see, now I've said it on here it makes it official). I've signed up on this website and it has sorted out a training schedule for me. For those of you who remember the list a wee while ago you'll know that jogging was one of my aims for this year. I did go a few times earlier this year but now I've got a training buddy, and an actual aim. So here goes!

I'll let you know how I get on...

and some for all the running folks

OK, so my boyfriend is into running. In, it has to be said, a fairly big way. So much so that he is willing to put himself through - from my perspective at least - the annual torture of the Great North Run.

This year, being the supportive and loving type, I went along to watch, cheer, and wave enthusiastically from safely behind the sidelines.

I tell you, it was a sight to be seen.

And what a buzz! It felt like the whole athletic world had rolled into Newcastle (which, to be fair, it very nearly had) and was just pouring through the streets and over the Tyne Bridge. Such colours! Never had I thought that Lycra could be so supremely beautiful, but I stand corrected. When you've got over 54,000 people all running in the brightest (albeit tightest) outfits imaginable, it makes for a pretty impressive sight.

Now, I hasten to add (if you hadn't already gathered), that running categorically isn't my thing. But by the end of it, I could quite see the appeal. An event like that is incredibly spectacular, and I found myself secretly wishing I could join in. My blokey told me that, often, when they run past roundabouts and street corners, local brass bands are out playing for them as they run by. Now that, surely, is a precious moment. When else does something so wonderfully nostalgic as that happen in our busy and urbanised lives?

I watched as he ran over the bridge, then jumped on the Metro and raced him to South Shields, and the finish line. When I eventually found him amidst the crowds of literally thousands of people, all wrapped up like a jacket potato in his foil blanket freebie and grinning from ear to ear, I was so immensely proud. I realised that it was more than just running to him. This was an event that he anticipates all year long, which - for a couple of hours at least - allows him to be more than just one little person, but instead a member of a huge, surging, dazzling, and determined team. Surely a year's worth of training is worth that one perfect moment?

I was very proud of you, bird.

(Having said that, I didn't tell him that the Red Arrows were my favourite bit)