Official Brighton Marathon - 3hrs 47mins. Very Important Plodder.

Hugh's first appearance at an organised marathon and what an effort. Bloody show off.

The day started with Hugh trying to explain to the staff in a pseudo French accent that he needed lait chaud milk for his porridge sachets. They informed him the Grand could supply a bowl of its own and we sat down remembering where we were. A cooked breakfast as well, the very fulcrum of civilisation. We met up with Tim and Tripod and with our camera crew we trooped out and got probably the only available taxi in Brighton to the start.

This is the first time I have entered a VIP tent as an invited guest. The main advantage of this is that there are nice loos with faux rosewood fittings and someone to take one's bags to the finish line, the main considerations you have on this sort of event. We did our usual dynamic stretching, and the gathered assortment of celebs and elite runners (only recognised Fat Boy Slim) looked on in bemusement as we lolloped and crabbed about the paddock before self consciously shuffling to a stop. We shrugged and then went past the army chaps, footballers, and elite runners to the start. Unwisely, we were in also in the elite start section, the Kenyans looking suspiciously at us so we walked a bit further back to avoid being stampeded when the gun went off.

I always find certain things odd at organised races- people in the main pack get all twitchy like cattle lining up in a pen about to be despatched . Lots of nervous peeing going on; accountants feeling the need to leg it over a fence and urinate on a tree next to the vicar''s wife when normally they'd blow a heart valve if the tin of boiled sweets was out of place on their dashboard. Hugh and I feel a sort of superiority or other-worldliness at least in regard to all the preening going on, being used to chucking on some shorts and plodding into a morning's run, relying on ourselves to get where we need to.

Lots of atmosphere here and Hugh and I ran for the first 18 miles together and he was still on very good form indeed. As agreed, he then legged it off, having discovered he now really likes competition with others as well as himself and wanted to post a good time. I locked my injuries in my little box of pain and came in a couple of minutes later, not too bad, also considering I had strapped my legs myself that morning, and both remained remarkably the right way round. Hugh appears above such things that trouble mere mortals though he confessed to being a bit tired having really pushed it for this one.

Afterwards in the VIP restaurant (yes, I am milking this), Hugh had a long chat with Steve Ovett who had spoken to him on Radio Sussex a month earlier. All good for the filming and there were also various other interviews, people kissing his hand, that sort of thing. A few Guinesses later we narrowly avoided being persuaded into going to Legends bar's Sunday pm drag queen show. Vince, our Social Secretary seemed insistent but this was not the place to drum up support for 50in50. Tripod took him away, protesting. A temporary escape as we'll all be back in London soon.

Reunited with Samia who had a well earned day off in Brighton yesterday, we are off to Casa Preece in Mayfield today where we hope to catch Hugh's son Freddie before his bedtime. Better get a wriggle on then.

4hrs 35mins. Steady progression to the coast.

The last day in France, the final one in mainland Europe. Hugh played a solid innings with a a straight bat, wanting to finish off the continental tour in style, and he did.

We started north of St Omer cheered off by Rosie and Big Charlie. Little Charlie had decided to stay for another day and go back with us over the water so he and I formed a tag teamed to keep Hugh company. I did the first half with him and after a break Charlie sped along before changing tack to become a cameraman - lying prostrate on the road as Hugh went past then springing up to take more. Athletic stuff indeed, of which our supermarket photographer from yesterday would have been jealous.

The route was very flat today, winding slowly north along canals and rivers towards Dunkerque before banking left, finishing in farmland close to the coast, just before Calais. Again we were lucky with the weather, the cold mist of the morning being burnt off by the sun before midday and glorious all afternoon. Not a sign of the Icelandic ash cloud - though perhaps there's a pea souper awaiting us over the channel.

Mixed feelings going back to England. On the ferry we found a loud and boisterous crowd and felt hemmed in. Not actually used to a lot of people having seen very few on our European crawl northwards and we had got used to our cocooned existence, travelling purposefully and moving on each day. The drive from Dover to Brighton showed how built up England is compared to the countries we had visited and though we love old Blighty it did seem very crowded.

Finally we reached the Grand Hotel where Hugh and I we had been put up by the Brighon Marathon as VIPs. Jonny PR was down, delivering various sponsorship bits for the next day and we had an obligatory whisky and did a bit more work before el collapso in a rather nice suite. Next day heralded our first organised marathon and it was a blessed relief not to look over the route or work out how long it would take to drive there, also in the knowledge we would have a decent English breakfast, delightful though croissants have been.

4 hours 14 minutes Fastest time yet.

Hugh hit a vein of form today completing his marathon in a very sharp time, helped by running with a 18 yr old full of vim, once my pedestrian 'lead' of the run released them just after half way. This is evidence of Hugh having tapered nicely in his training and frankly smacks of professionalism. Good job too, given the intensity and length of this challenge.

We headed off to the Somme today, starting at Querrieu. We were joined by Charlie Bridge, Spohie's nephew from Mayfield. Charlie is 18 and therefore annoyingly able to bang out a marathon without too much difficulty. He is also a Cambridge undergrad, a breed with whom we have been inundated on this trip. Not enough to be subjected to the UK desk banging on inn Eurobabble, these Cambridge men and woman educated folk pop out, translating Swahili into Latin whilst unicycling (bikes with baskets on being passe these days). Where are the honest red brickers? I ask, or those whose universities won dubious architectural awards in the 1960s for being built of single towers of concrete in the Romanian monolithic style? (I'm a surveyor you know, so don't get iffy.)

The chip on my shoulder doesn't help my running. Also my strapping means I move along like someone unable to work out if they want to go for an honest jog or an energetic goose step. Anyway, we set out, a fluorescent clad trio from the car park after being photographed repeatedly in front of a supermarket which none of us quite understood, though dumbly went along with as one does in front of a professional looking cameraman.

We hoofed off, winding our way along the Somme river and through fields that almost a century earlier was the site of the most ordnance ever thrown at an opposing army in one day on 1st July 1916.On the subsequent fighting, there were 60,000 casualties on this single day, including 20,000 fatalities. We stuck to the road nearest the river and though saw endless signs for cemeteries, but sadly didn't have time to visit. It would be appropriate to come back and pay our respects another time. It is sobering to think as we ran along on a sunny spring day, birdsong ever present, that because of them, we can do this.

I left the others at 15 miles when we stopped for lunch and they continued along the tributaries and small lakes of the Somme, past fishermen, Little Charlie completing his first marathon in style. We were supported all the way round by Hugh's aunt Rosie and Big Uncle Charlie who are great characters. Never a dull moment with them and the gendarmerie thought they had a spot of crowd trouble given Rosie's enthusiastic clapping and shrieking on every street corner.

We had a long drive to St Omer but I think it was worth the diversion from our natural route to go to the Somme. After an excellent dinner with some Del Boy style cocktails as aperitifs we went back to our hotel, preparing for our final push to the channel.

4hrs 42mins. Good, solid day.

Slight change of plan this morning. The car park we left the van last night turned out to be the location for today's weekly market. So we arrived to see the van enclosed by stalls and white vans. The great thing was that there was no problem with this as far as anyone else was concerned, just that we couldn't get out. Hugh and I did our warm up next to the costume jewellry stand. Normally (and actually for everyone else) this would be cringe worthy but by now we don't bat an eyelid. We changed the route which linked up with the original one later on.

As often is the case, having to adapt worked well - George and Samia were able to do some much needed laundry and George even picked up a fake blackberry for Freddie, Hugh's son to practice on. He may soon become more proficient than his father is on the real version.

The Englishness of the countryside continued today with lots of farmers in evidence. This provided added excitement for the run as they have little interest in moving out of the way and to be skewered by enormous corkscrew looking objects would be a shame at this stage. We even took a bit of time out today looking utterly suspect lying on a flower strewn bank with the tractor drivers going by, looking on, in some cases hungrily. We moved on.

We had a good day trotting out the first 15 miles without much of a problem. Hugh is horribly fit and nimble. By comparison I am strapped up on my left knee almost to the point almost of immobility and my achilles is still bound, though lightly. I long for those horse pills Lucy, the fragrant army doctor in the Marathon des Sables fed us, giving oblivion while running. Samia, however is quite right - this will only hide the true cause so managing the problem is important and the strapping is working. I have been fortunate in getting back on track running my half marathons. Hugh finds my pace useful for the lead in to the day and I'm glad to be able to help and get out in the French sunshine. Hasn't rained in this country yet. That's bound to jinx things.

Incidentally Samia is talking about this event from the perspective of a sports therapist at London Metropolitan University on 23rd April at 11.45, as part of a postgraduates' lecture. I have done an excellent video interview so please do go along - email Samia at samia.clinic@ymail.com

4hr 44mins. A tiring day.

Late start today. A frustrating morning as we had some sponsor videos to do which we had difficulty uploading. This meant a delayed start for Hugh, not ideal. This illustrates that running is just one of the elements of this, absurd as it may sound.

W e eventually set off from a village called Le Bonneville sur Iton, heading steadily north. We passed through lots of villages that are appear increasingly English, brick built or stone built thatched and with uneven structural beams. The ever present mairie's building, centrally located in each village is the main reminder that we are in France. There seem to be more small war memorials around here as well, with Avenues de la Resistance, testimony to the struggle in this area in particular against occupation during two wars.

We started at about 1pm which mentally isn't great, Hugh felt mentally tired though physically OK and the day dragged. I joined him for the last part of the run which he said was a help as this allowed him to just watch my feet, following on and not having to be concerned about directions. This meant a quick bit of food on the move, before leaving to get to the hotel just before the restaurant closed.

There is quite a long drive on 50-70km between hotels for the last few days n France, particularly as the route is designed to avoid large towns and to run in the Somme in a couple of days - we think it important to visit at least one major battlefield on this journey. This makes for longer days. Obviously this coincides with a lot of work for our return to the UK and the last day of the challenge in particular. We are unlikely to get a lot of rest in this final week so if we are late in responding to any messages, please understand this. Off towards Amiens tomorrow.