This is the tale of a race with no finish line.

Ten years ago, my good pal Greg Swimer came to me with a vision – that we would build a very special 10k race. It was an idea that brought together key themes of our lives – the two of us were both running obsessives, sharing a bit of friendly racing rivalry to spur us on through the years, and each of us is a man who likes a project. Greg’s idea had a lovely twist – the race participants would select a neighbourhood to run for – N2 for East Finchley and N10 for Muswell Hill, introducing that same friendly rivalry on an inter-postcode basis. And so, Race the Neighbours was born…

This is a photo of my Grandpa Harold, along with his father and two of his brothers.

Our mum’s dad, by the time I knew him, he was a jovial older fellow (in fact, probably around my age – yikes). We bonded over computers and video games (he was ahead of his time on that front, I inherited many of my geekier tendencies from him). And we bonded over his storytelling – he loved to regale all his grandchildren with tales of his extraordinary experiences when he was younger.

Our Grandpa Harold had stories of adventure, of far away lands, straight out of a Boys Own annual, because Harold was a Desert Rat…

Written on 27th May 2020 at the height of the Dominic Cummings scandal

Two men who fed us snappy lines,

To hide the complicated.

“Take back control”, “get Brexit done”,

We swallowed whole, elated.

Odd couple in the thick of it,

A Downing Street sitcom,

PM dependent on his key adviser.

Classic Dom.