Bob Hayward & Nick Baldock have now run 20 consecutive marathons out of the 34 it will take to get to John O’Groats from Land’s End and in doing so have covered over 450 miles. This is all in aid of Podge the 13 year old boy who was so badly burnt in an attack last May.

The Crown Hotel at Wetheral and the congregation of Holy Trinity & St. Constantine played hosts to three tired lads, Bob & Nick the runners and Ian their hard working all suffering driver (We’ve got to say that he cooks our food ... ). What a beautiful village, the triangular green, a proper village shop, each house uniquely shaped, each garden tended with pride and a church to die for – We mean one that anyone would love in their wedding photos, etc. (sorry about that). All of the people they met were so supportive and generous with their time and money, they were all moved. They would say touched, but then many of you would say touched in the head to run that far. Especially Margaret, who saved their lives by washing two weeks of T–shirts, shorts and socks so drenched in high octane sweat you dare not light a match within fifty yards ... (Ooops, this should be 100 metres... the Euro bovver boys will be round if we attempt to retain our imperial past – just how many kilometres is it to John O’Groats?). Three men bowing and pleading at her feet must have been hard to resist, not often you see that in Wetheral, well not in the High Street anyway. All the people they have met have been great. Why? Many of us have burnt ourselves in a small way, through too much sun, mistakes in the kitchen or the workshop – so it is possible to imagine the unquenchable continuous searing pain that would have been so intense it rendered Podge unconscious. Lots of us have been bullied or threatened as youngsters and therefore it’s not hard to say “there but for the grace of God go I or my children”.

Thank you Castle Hotel & people of Wetheral you have secured a special place in the hearts of Bob and Nick.

They run solo today, having left Ian & the motor home at the hotel to await the arrival of some post, and do you know he did nothing but moan about “kicking his heals”. There he was, breakfast served in his room, four poster bed, Jacuzzi and sauna on tap and even the daily papers to read – and he complains! there is no pleasing some people. He just wanted to be on the road with them, following their every step, keeping them “eating properly” and not taking “too long on the breaks”.

Through Carlisle they went today, they even let them go through the city gates! Bob tried to stop off at the McDonalds for breakfast but Nick was determined to find a real “greasy joes” to irritate Ian. They breakfasted in Longtown, just short of the border with Scotland. They sat in a true working man’s cafe, filled with smoke from hot mugs of tea, hot fried breakfasts and cigarettes. The banter between the ladies who cooked and served and the “regular” lads was interesting to say the least – saved them reading the papers anyway. These hard thick set men, muscles toughen to steel, were also aware of two sweaty blokes parked quietly in the corner in fluorescent yellow running tops, running shorts and trainers – not the normal dress for such an eating establishment. As they got up to leave, the lads on the table next to us asked the obvious question – “what the heck are you two doing?” and promptly gave us the change and the notes in their pockets. Nice one guys.

They pushed on hard today partly to cross the border, partly because they are feeling the deadline looming and partly because the hotel stop and church visit refreshed them. Today they were particularly excited as each step took them nearer to the “end of England” and therefore to the “beginning of Scotland” this brought their adventure to a new level and they joked and teased each other more than ever today.

Such was the banter that seeing the sign, the border, was in some senses an anti-climax. No wall to prevent uncivilised hoards crossing either way, no parade of flags, no toll booth to extract even more funds from the travelling public. No, just a brownish red & white sign saying “Welcome to Scotland”.

As Nick & Bob took out the camera to celebrate (they’d left the champagne with Ian) three cyclists pull up, Rob – Caroline & Malc. They took photo’s for each other, swapped journey plans and war stories and then went on our separate ways.

Laingholm was their home for the night, or more accurately a lay–by on the outskirts. Scotland, wow!