The Ouch Potato by Ruth22

I've finally launched my charity fundraising campaign. My initial begging missive elicited a flurry of return emails, the majority of which not, as I would have hoped, saying 'well done, good for you' etc etc but instead were along the lines of 'are you ACTUALLY mental?'.

This rather dampened my already waning enthusiasm and I started to question myself. Exactly why did I get this dogged determination to do something so contrary and difficult when I could just be sitting on the sofa watching Masterchef?    

Then an email popped up from my cousin: 'I'm doing it again too.......!!!!!!!' This will also be his third London marathon. We both ran in 2007. We both were supposed to run in 2009 but both got injured and had to defer to 2010. Each time, we entered with no prior knowledge or consultation whatsoever. Which all strikes me as more than a little spooky.

Then a flash of clarity hit me. Grandad. If ever a more contrary and determined (OK, pig-headed) individual existed, I'd like to have met them. To give you an idea, when my Aunt was born, Grandad wanted to name her Agnes Jane. "Over my dead body" said Granny and shooed him out to go and register the birth - on his own. Fatal mistake. To this day, for non-official purposes, my Aunt assumes the name 'Jean'.

So I can only conclude that my cousin and I have inherited Grandad's Pig-Headed gene. Lucky us. And somewhere up there, Grandad is looking down, pulling strings and making us fill in those wretched entry forms while no-doubt chuckling to himself. Hopefully next year Granny will bash him over the head with a rolling pin but, until then, at least it's keeping him amused.