excuses, excuses...

I haven't been running for about ten days. There has just been no time. But now Sunday is drawing to a close and as I sit, waiting for my work to be done, a beer in one hand and my blackberry in the other, I reckon I can smell the approach of normality.

Born out of captivity like a racist in a reality show, my inner runner will emerge to strike a note of fear in the hearts of fellow marathonites.

Or so I hope. As it stands, I'd just rather like to go to bed. But writing this is at least more entertaining than match of the day (no matter how small the keypad).

Perhaps I should take this chance to fill you in on the Worst 24 Hours Ever, Nearly. Friday was the only evening in about ten days that I could actually relax, have a drink and switch off the next day. The week was manic, Friday unbelieveably so, and Sunday (today) has so far been about fourteen hours worth of work. As will tomorrow be. So you geddit- friday / saturday, this little jessie needs some FUN.

Friday, leave work 8 pm, arrive cargo 8.30, blackberry nicked 8.45. This is BAD. ALL info and contacts for BAFTAs on sunday on it, everyone has that number and that number only for problems with interviews / footage etc etc. Spend hour or so searching people / floor / bushes for discarded phone (?? Illogical, I know) then go home and have A Good Cry. 3.30 a.m. Cargo people call me - they've found my crackberry! Hoorah! Jump for the sky. Only way of getting it before 1pm saturday however is by going then and there. So I arrive at the cargo afterparty (east end trendies, fruit beers and musicians, man) in my pyjamas. Only to find it aint my blackberry.

Pink stripey pjs and hair like Worzel Gummidge on a bad day, I crawled around the floor for a while looking for it and eventually gave up and got a taxi home, sticky and dejected.

Saturday a.m. was spent sourcing, replacing and synchronising bits of telecommunicationware, Saturday p.m. and night was split between the inside lane of the north circular and the hard shoulder of the M40 (I broke down TWICE), Sunday has been spent working like a Polish cleaning lady on speed and now it's 2 a.m. MONDAY and I'm really looking forward to bed so I can get up and get back to work at 7 a.m. Don't ask me how the running's going.