The Curse Of John Candy

If you've ever squared up to a proficient boxer you'll know that while you're countering the threat of the jab you'll probably never see the overhand right which turns your lights off. In the same way, whilst we were concentrating on the potential problems of flying out of Krakow due to the state funeral, a large volcanic ash cloud was forming to test the political will and organisational skill of our pathetic excuse for a country.

Faced with the ludicrous uncertainty of being stuck in Poland for the foreseeable future we have decided to take matters into our own hands and devise a guaranteed way of getting home. Unfortunately this means getting a train from Krakow to Warsaw, then to Berlin, to Uttrecht, to Rotterdam, to the Hook of Holland, a ferry to Harwich, a train to Colchester, a bus to Stansted and then a drive home. Oh yes, and we'll arrive home next wednesday morning at about 1 a.m. I'm going to have a sense of humour breakdown I can feel it.

Iceland has a lot to answer for - firstly for their sizeable contribution to the credit crunch and secondly, to rub salt into our wounds, they lose control of one of their topographical features. For a country so small and apparently pointless they know how to influence the lives of ordinary folk living far beyond their natural remit.

Oh, yes -this is supposed to be a running blog. I've been running wherever possible but my knee is still playing up and the concrete jungle of Rotterdam is the most unpleasant place I've ever been forced to run.