Two of my favouritest people in the whole wide world are getting married this Saturday. Another poor man marrying into my bewilderingly daft family, bless him. And so my parents, who have retired to one of the most beautiful spots in Spain, flew back to dear old blighty yesterday.

Now, the weather has been utter pants all week (what is with this wind, do the US have to export absolutely everything?!?!) and, knowing there is no way on this earth I'll be doing a long run this weekend, I have made the executive decision to give myself a break. I'll worry about my waistline and my knees and the bits on my legs where muscles would be if I had any next week.

I am ridiculously excited about this weekend's festivities (just collected my white suit - it's a black tie event, but I simply can't accessorise for black), and my parents have planned an extended stay as their 'Summer Holiday' for the year - how crap must that be, to leave Spain and holiday in the UK, in September? - so I have no doubt I'll have plenty non-running episodes to share in the near future. I will get back on it (having perhaps visited Run or The Jog Shop) next week. But this is a party weekend and I'm preparing for it by...well...partying, to be frank.