The in-box at this time of year always seems to have a drip, drip of sponsorship seeking emails which is a wonderful thing both for the participants and of course for the charities. It does mean though, that there are great demands on the very kind donation giving recipients of the requests.
With that very much in mind, and having done the humility thing, here's another shout. The youngest Crumble kid is following the crowd and as a result of an ill considered wager has signed up for the London marathon. I though can now look forward to darting around London with a few bags of jelly babies trying to intercept him en route for a quick morale boosting hello and photo opp, (the morale boosting hello will of course be for his mother's sake not his). Mike is running for the Norwood charity which helps and assists children and adults with disabilities both on a residential and non residential basis.
If you know Mike and might care to put a wee something in the pot you may find a link to the relevant giving page here. Do look out for him on the box on the day, he'll be the blond fellow attempting to beat his sisters time of a few years ago. She though, ran it the day after her 21st which shows a bit of form. For my part, I have always regarded voluntarily running the marathon to be an absurd pastime for deranged and unbalanced fanatics.
This is not incidentally, the first marathon I have witnessed being run as a result of an ill considered wager. I recall an occasion when two officers concluded a heated discussion at tea in the Mess in 47 Regiment RA in Gutersloh with a bet to race one another over a marathon with a case of champagne as the stake. Despite all the bluster and noise nothing came of it until a few weeks later, and quite late into the evening over port at a particularly good Dinner Night, the Colonel suggested they should run the next morning. That rather put the dampeners on their fun. They set off the next morning, accompanied with the music of Chariots of Fire that some wag had set up, over a hastily arranged local route which would have been accurate to oh, I'm not sure, a few miles at least. Some considerable time later they made it back to be greeted by all the thirsty Mess members eagerly eyeing the case of champagne which was sitting on the steps of the Mess. It didn't last long but lasted rather longer than the two protagonists who retired for a well deserved hot bath.
Good luck son!