Narnia-on-Sea

Tonight I went for a 60 minute run, but got lost and ended up in Narnia-on-Sea.

In this land, it rains. Constantly.

There is also a village called "Sutton with Shopland". That's right. "Shopland". And it is here that my adventure started.... Over the next half an hour I would be subjected to a series of trials to gain my freedom.

Taking a left to follow a signpost marked "Footpath", my run took me on a trek through dense mystical waist high stinging nettles. These hurt far more than the ones in the real world, especially when wearing shorts.

Having survived Death Nettle Ally, I arrived at the Labyrinth.

Here many strange adventurers before me have settled and set up businesses in a never ending warren of small disused streets.
I ran and ran and ran and eventually found my way to the other side of the maze where a rugby club had been set up. Hoping my reward would be my freedom, I ran enthusiastically around edge of all of the pitches looking for my exit and trying to impress the rugby players wondering if this wet and limping creature wanted to play with them.

It was a trap. A false hope. This was not the exit to the labyrinth. This was a dead-end. There was no other exit other than the way I?d entered without taking my chances on the Railway of Doom. So remembering my high school assemblies, I was forced to (heroically) retrace my steps (slightly less enthusiastically) past the (slightly more curious) rugby players until I ended up back where i started.

Undeterred, I tried again, and ran up and down endless left and right turns, until finally perseverance paid off and I saw a hint of daylight in the distance. I picked up the pace and gratefully stumbled into the familiar light of Southend-on-Sea.

I thought i was safe.

But little did I know that no-one enters Narnia-on-Sea and leaves unscathed. As well as my already swollen and stung legs, I was carrying a curse. Over the next mile I became subject to what I believed to be through my 27 years of vaguely energetic living to be a myth.

An infliction so dastardly, that I am unable to talk about it to anyone for fear of ridicule.

I know of no cure.

However, I know I shall be applying a significant amount of Vaseline to my Chestal area before I embark on my next adventure...

In other news

Over the last few days Tabitha the house 'mancat' has been acting a little strangely around me. He keeps... staring at me.

A couple of days ago, I was quietly ironing a shirt before work, and looked up to see Tabs determindly digging a hole at the far end of the garden. Curious, I watched for a little while until he stopped. Straightened up, and slowly turned to look directly at me. The full length of the g arden, through a pain of glass, a room and an open doorway into the dining room where I was standing with shivers running up and down my neck.

"Strange creature" I said to my self, and went back to ironing my shirt.

A few seconds later, I happened to look up again, and nearly dropped the iron. Tabitha had moved about half way down the garden, and in the middle of the grass, was sat stock still still staring directly at me.

Now I've watched enough Dr Who to know that if I were to look away and then back, Tabitha would have moved a little closer still, until I looked up and he would have had his nose pressed against the window. So I hastily put everything away, put on my nearly ironed but still shockingly hot shirt and left the house for work.

Then today, after this miss-adventure above, I arrived back home soaking wet, cold and sore. I went to draw my curtains, but Tabitha the man cat has climbed. He'd climbed to the top of the garage and was crouching, staring straight at me in my bedroom.

Either he is somehow connected to my adventure in Narnia-on-Sea, or he wants to eat me.