McGahan hits 60 (that's years not mph)

Welbeck Hotel sponsored daredevil classic racer, multi Manx Grand Prix winner and ace project manager (he does a good bathroom eventually,) Chris McGahan was 60 on Friday 26th November and Irene and I were fortunate enough to be invited to his birthday party at the Masonic Hall in Peel the day after.

Apart from supplying his guests with three brilliant curries, Chris also laid on three excellent musical acts. A dude on guitar kicked off the night with some great singer-songwriter numbers, including 'Candy' by Paolo Nuttini' which was my personal favourite, followed by a rock group who played mostly their own music but also some classic Led Zepellin covers to really get the crowd on the dance floor.

The Ballaghs with Katie the Fiddler who used to be in the band, guesting on the violin, rounded things off with their punk folk numbers and had the venue bouncing.

With the event taking place on the west of the Island, I drove our entourage over and then we took a taxi home. The weather was fine if a little cold, so it was a bit of a shock to see the amount of snow that had fallen when I awoke this morning.

Ignoring advice to wait for the weather to improve, I decided to head out along Peel Road to investigate whether it would be safe to drive the car home. Just as I was about to set off, I realised that my fell running shoes which would have given me decent grip were in the car.

The advantage of having a 13 year old Sasquatch for a son is that right now, we have the same size feet, so I decided to borrow his shoes and because the snow seemed so thick and I was wary of the ice, I changed his short spikes for long ones.

Big mistake! As soon as I went past the Quarterbridge, the amount of snow lessened considerably and all you could hear was the clack of my spikes hitting the pavement. To add to my problems, I also realised that I needed to answer the call of nature.

Leaving Union Mills, it became apparent that that call was a little more urgent than I'd previously thought and there was no way I could make it to the public loo at Crosby, two miles down the road, so am afraid that I had to vault a gate. After careful consideration and the fact that I didn't know whose field it was, I have decided not to invoice the farmer for the fertiliser he didn't order.

Those of you that know me well, will be aware that I'm more of a walker than a runner and this was the longest distance I'd attempted to run for more than two years. By St. Johns, despite the fact that I was wearing two pairs of socks, the meeting of metal on tarmac was beginning to announce itself as being quite painful and the prospect of blistering only a week before my last race of the year was not one that I relished. Luckily, I had packed a spare pair of trainers in my rucksack, so I was able to change and complete my journey in relative comfort. However, if my walk next Sunday along the same course takes anything like the same amount of time, I've no chance of winning what could be the last Peel to Douglas, one of the oldest events on the athletics calendar.

P.S. will fill in the names of the solo artist and the band later whenI find out.