Underlay, having done the ground work, left the field of battle to others to deliver – a bit like a UKIP politician really!
Although there has been no sign of monsters swimming up the Thames to consume us all, Brexit is having it's effect on the weather, and the heavens had earlier opened to threaten the veracity of the trail. However, in the spirt of unity, Atomic and Shagpile led the pack out into the suburbs of Biggleswade.
Depth Charge, taking a break from Head of the Michael Gove Fan Club, led the FRBs out and surprisingly found some dust to follow. He was closely followed by Capt F and Ringer who were soon checking it out at the first check. It was Pecker who found the right direction and the pack followed him obediently.
Scoobie Do Do seemed a bit down in the dumps, as he'd heard that the price of Italian rubberwear and German facemasks may increase. The poor chap had to be prevented from throwing himself off the footbridge to end it all. Fortunately The Count, being a graduate of the Boris Johnson School of Serious People distracted Scoobie by pulling a funny face and making fart noises with his armpit which soon cheered him up.
The storm clouds gathered as the trail led on and on, with nary the distraction of a breathtaking panorama to distract the pack. Urban Biggleswade was all that was on offer until, Oh Joy of Joys, a park with children's swings was discovered. An instant regression to the juvenile years afflicted some of the pack as they gleefully diverted to the amusements. Even Edwina (who has been appointed body double for the new Chancellor of the Exchequer) was seen to indulge.
It looked like the rain would hold off long just enough for us to get back still dry. A woodland track broke the oppidan surrounding and provide a brief respite from tarmac and brick, and the pack could sense the ON INN was just around the corner. With interest waning and those grey clouds looking more ominous than a Punishment Budget, the final two furlongs (402.2 meters if you are from outside Glorious Blightly) was attempted. But suddenly, just like a Prime Minister's future our hopes of exsiccation were dashed as the heavens opened up. Blow Felt declared that he couldn't afford to shrink any further so the pack joined him in sheltering from the downpour. Even Scoobie showed signs of hydrophobia and sheltered leaving just Depth Charge to soldier on alone in the rain.
Fortunately the duration of the rain shower was not under the control of Sir John Chilcott, and so after a short time the pack was able to complete the run and get on with the imbibing!
Shagpile & Atomic Titten