Yesterday I was out, minding my own business, running along the towpath, when I got stopped by a fisherman, and asked to take a photo of him holding a giant turbot. What is it with me and running? In the last month, while I've been out, I've been chased by stampeding cows, witnessed a wedding proposal, run through a puddle that nearly came up to my middle and now, very nearly engaged in a Monty Pythonesque fish slapping routine.
I thought running was a solitary activity, where your mind could wonder, and you could solve all your dilemmas!
I thought running was a solitary activity, where your mind could wonder, and you could solve all your dilemmas!
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