grumpyf1

Imagine you’ve just run 13 miles. What are you feeling as you cross the line? I think I’m closer to understanding than I’ve ever been. Last Sunday was a very busy one if you work for Brathay Trust, the Ambleside-based charity that works to inspire children and young people to make positive choices that will last a lifetime. Their biggest fundraising event of the year took place – The Brathay Windermere Marathon. This year was the first event to also feature a Half Marathon and, relieved of my usual duties of wandering around with a camera and trying to look busy on social media, I got to hand medals to the finishers of the 13.1mile race. Poised with an arm-full of medals, I got to place the prize over the heads of the runners who wanted it, or hand it over to those who didn’t fancy me getting too up close and personal. I’m sure it would have been easy to lapse into a conveyor-belt routine of: Say “well done”; place medal; point to water; Next! But I couldn’t do that. All t...

OK, he probably wouldn’t have managed it if Rosberg & Hamilton hadn’t wound up in a gravel trap, but Max Verstappen bagged his first Formula 1 win last weekend. At the age of 18. I remember being pretty obsessed about things that meant a lot to me when I was 18. Getting into my ultra-skinny jeans took a lot of time, and getting out of them required degrees of skill and concentration that probably should have gained my some kind of award. Then there was the styling mousse. Back when I had luxurious locks, I was carrying around enough highly flammable material on my head that a stray spark could have taken out a small town. By the time he reached 18, ridiculously youthful Formula 1 star Max had already got nearly a full year of motor racing at the top level under his belt. At which point he was old enough to take his driving test. Racing since he was four and a half years old, Max appeared in F1 last year to a barrage of criticism about his age. There were some unforced err...

Hot last weekend, wasn’t it? Perfect weather for a walk. What could be nicer than sunshine, stunning views and an angry ruminant? *Safety warning: This newspaper column contains a percentage of cattle-related puns that the government have deemed to be above the recommended daily allowance. You should read it only as part of a balanced journalistic diet, and not laugh at the weak plays-on-words, as it only encourages the writer. He’s milking it, really.* Heartened by the weather last Sunday (and the fact that sitting on the sofa all day doesn’t actually count as exercise, even if you do get up to go to the fridge for more chocolate), we decided to go for walk. Wandering happily through the Arnside AONB, we took in the glorious views across Morecambe Bay, spotted some orchids, and strolled happily past the entertainingly small Highland cattle that roam the side of Arnside Knott, with their pointy horns and inappropriately thick, hairy coats. Placid little chaps, but I suppose yo...

Be afraid. Be really jolly afraid, actually. A rampaging army of zombie gastropods is eyeing up your garden. And they’re hungry as hell! Shocking news surfaced last weekend. Whilst we are all basking in the delightfully chilly dampness of another Bank Holiday weekend, frightening reports came in, detailing the gruesome news that a generation of sleepless slugs now exists. A wet summer, followed by a very mild winter, has failed to send the squishy blighters into hibernation, and they didn’t even drown in the flooding. According to conservation charity BugLife, we’re facing a population “explosion”, with potential for “devastation for our gardens”. They’ve spent the winter on the sluggy equivalent of a massive 18-30 bender. Eating anything available and getting jiggy with it, they’ve raised an army of slimy soldiers, ready to do battle with your plants. Being hermaphrodites, they can even self-reproduce, which is great news for the really ugly ones who can’t get a date. For the ...

Hello. I’m Doctor Grenville, and I’m here today to talk to you about SSS – or “Sad Selfie Syndrome”, to give it it’s full medical name. I’m a fully qualified medical doctor thing – I’ve got a PhD from Queens University Academy College Kendal (or “QUACK” for short) to prove it. That means it’s OK for me to talk to you about a very sensitive subject today and stroke your knee. Soothing, no? In my many years of medicinalising practice, I’ve come across some terrible afflictions. I’ve seen Achey Breaky Heart, Kneesles (where you get an itchy rash on your kneecaps) and even a very rare case of the Mercedes Benz. But recently I started seeing shocking images, on social media, graphically showing the devastating results of SSS. If you haven’t heard of it before, you’ve almost certainly seen pictures of what happens to the victims, who are mostly under the age of 30. We’ve already come to understand the irrational, overwhelming need for some amongst this group to photograph everythin...