Frogs and snails and … oh my

Posted: 16/08/2012 in Barefoot, Journal, Running

I went for a run last night – not tonight, but it was quite late last night, meaning that I had to wait until tonight for the joy of writing it up for you, dear reader. And dearie me, what a trip it was, involving a mission of mercy, difficult circumstances to overcome and yes, groceries.

I arrived home to the usual, making tea (a loverley salad, since you asked) and then thought about a bit of a run. But where, how far, and to what point? Well, as luck would have it, I stopped by the bathroom and discovered we had around about no sheets of toilet paper left.

As you’d expect, I sounded the “no bog roll” alarm, informed the authorities and generally put sandbags in all the normal places.

Then it struck me.

I could do the normal, boring, predictable thing and nip to the shops and buy some loo roll. Or, I could do something altogether more amazing, fantastic and above all laudable, and in essence save the world.

You can see by now that this is turning into some kind of Lavatorial International Rescue, and you’d be right.

In order to carry said toilet roll, I strapped on my OMM Last Drop, hoping that it would be an adequate receptacle for the purchase. A bottle to carry, a £10 note in a wee bag in case it rained and my hat on the waist strap of my bag.

And off I went – it was a warm night, getting darker, and after the crazy rain of an hour earlier it was very humid. The run along to Tynemouth was very nice, if the ground was a little unforgiving – other than along the slight dip towards the beach, where the path was covered in snails – what is it with me and the slimier animals? A couple of nights ago I slipped out for a cheeky night-time run and discovered the trail past the lighthouse was paved with tiny frogs, which made me adopt a “dad-dance” style of running, all sideways hips and rapid shoulder movement to try and avoid the suddenly-appearing-in-my-headtorch wee blighters.

Still, like the post, I made it through, come rain, come hail, come gastropods. Arriving at The Co-op in Tynemouth, I realised I might not look “at my best”, so I sidled in to find the toilet roll, and was blinded by the huge neon signs proclaiming savings on packs of 36 rolls. Clearly no good, there was no way they were fitting into the admittedly smallish looking (now) backpack. I wandered round the shop, I may have dripped sweat on the floor, but I managed to track down a pack of four rolls. Bit of a risk, but there were no two-roll packs.

I made my way to the till, where the cashier clearly thought I might have arrived from Mars by the look on his face – paid for the comestibles (by now he’s thinking “why has he run here, clearly sweating, and needs four toilet rolls, like he’s in a massive poo-fuelled hurry” – which I wasn’t, in case you’d had the same idea).

Out of the shop and juuuuuuuust managed to fit the pack in the pack. It’s like OMM sat down and said, “seriosuly guys, what’s the most we’d ever need to fit in here?”. Then they’d have shelved that and gone for lunch and a think, after which they’d have come back and someone would have said “you couldn’t need more than, I don’t know, four toilet rolls, how about that?”, and the concept of the Last Drop was born.

Part of me had wanted to get the giant 36 roll pack, just so I could run home with it, shouting “I need a poo” and waving people out of my way. Sadly (or luckily) sense got the better of me, and I had opted for the Secret Squirrel approach, not giving away my scatological good deed.

Back home, and rolls cheerily deposited in the bathroom, I sat down to a nice cup of tea. Well, you have to  after something of that proportion, don’t you?


  • Distance: 4.55 miles
  • Time: 45:07
  • Average pace: 9:55 per mile
  1. Jay says:

    You missed a trick there. Just think how glorious you would have looked, jogging over the horizon to home, pulling a sled laden with several bargain multipacks of 36 toilet rolls. They would have built statues in your honour. You could have had a bank holiday named after you!

    There will come a day when you have not a single packet of crisps in your cupboard, and I beg you – don’t make this mistake again!

  2. thebriars says:

    Mission accomplished Da-p, well done. I think you have inadvertently created a new sport – bog roll carrying – you could go on after the wife throwing or something. Or perhaps there’s a canny link to bog-snorkelling – if only a sponsorship opportunity or perhaps some kind of “twinning” like the towns thing although I’m not sure what you’d twin with Tynemouth. Answers on a sheet of Andrex super-soft….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s