So Long ... And Thanks For All The Fish

[The Beast of Bevendean]

My tilt at the Three Forts, aka a walk in Robert Macfarlane's footsteps, may have to be called off.

The Three Forts, you say?
The impossibly vertical, off-road man-hammering akin to the Steyning Stinger? In a week or two?
And there's me, with all that hilly training sloshing about and a rapidly-healing haematoma.
Get thee behind me, Tom Roper!

Oh, and don't mind me, fellas. I'm loving all this Franco-rodent interaction as much as everyone else. Was the Mouse wearing a beret? Or trailing a tiny string of onions?

I've got this all wrong, haven't I?
Oh dear.

That's the one, though I should make it clear I'm only doing the half-marathon impossibly vertical etc etc. The original plan was to do the full distance but as my sixteen week training plan collided with chest infections and overwhelming fatigue whenever I venture out of the house in running shoes, I had to moderate my ambitions. This co-codamol is jolly good stuff and I think if I eat enough of it between now and 5 May, I'll be fine.
To clarify, the mouse was a native Seaford rodent. I could tell because it stressed the second syllable of the town's name, the way the locals do that seems so odd to an incomer like me.