April 2014

[Sweder]

Still no running on the horizon. It's not for lack of inspiration, immersed as I've been in the excellent works of messrs Askwith and Whalley these past five days. Despite days of restful slumber under the beaming African sun my lungs remain in tatters. Every night they tighten as if constricted by a giant, invisible snake, every morning I wake moments before a bout of wild barking and lung butter expulsion. I may need a trip to the Quacks after all.

Some of our day trips out have been inspirational, too. Imagine the urge to run across this alien landscape, perched high above Wednesday's thick cloud as we drove up Mount Teide to view the great volcanic Hellmouth. There's a lot more to Tenerife than shoddy replica pubs and gobby tourists.