4hrs 45mins. Tough day.

Hugh fought fatigue today, working his way from Fontenay la Comte to Bressuires, gritting his teeth manfully. Lovely countryside in which to grind the molars but a long haul.

Tiring day, owing as much to a lack of sleep as anything. We had a late planning evening the last day and no one got to bed early; a close to 2am finish (aah..). Does go to show that Hugh's day consists of more than 'just' running a marathon each day.

There also has been a bit of a feeling of being stuck in the 30s; thinking this will soon be over and yet there's an awful lot left to do. Equally no one wants it to end so we're like teenagers huffing and shrugging shoulders. 'Are we there yet' and when we do get to London it'll be a case of 'don't like it here, won't to get out of the car.' (or large van in this case).

On the upside there are unequivocal positives. Hugh has not yet had a blister. I remember how he lost half the soles of his feet in the Marathon des Sables due to deep blisters so does not want to experience anything like that again. His success this time is largely owing to the 1000 mile double skinned socks and the Profeet bespoke insoles. Also he doused his feet in surgical spirit for several months which makes them tough. Yawn time for most people reading, so apologies for that except for any running geeks, titillating over such details under the duvet with a flashlight..

George, joint head of UK desk, has made his presence felt. Alarmingly it appears he has the same language faculties as Jonny PR. They have effectively tag-teamed; one having stepped out of the ring to let the other in to dazzle the locals with lingo and massive barnet. George's crosses the boundaries of fair play and taste in its size; an 80s throwback - a smug Colby or an East German criminal in an early Die Hard film. This isn't good at all for my prospects avec les mademoiselles locales. I lean casually on the bar, Del Boy style uttering 'bon mot' in thanks for a 'giraffe de l'eau' whilst George wanders in, all golden flaxen haired, 'bon nuit-ing' toute le monde, waitresses simpering away. At dinner he waxes on about chouffluer and other obscure legumes, just because he can.

Soon I'm shaking my head into my creme brulee wondering how I can turn this around before the petit fours (and whether I should stick with the vouvray or move onto cognac). I've thought about resurrecting the Duponts but with heavy heart have conceded they aren't up to it. (By this stage, the blogs require frequent viewing so apols if you don't know what the hell I'm on about, they are my schoolboy French stories; and little assistance so far in breaking the ice). In a fit of pique I've retired them. I''ve decided my singe has been eaten by the dog, and Madam et Monsieur are arguing about whose idea it was to purchase a building (their windmill) that cost a fortune to convert and which now has an uncertain resale value, having now put them technically in negative equity. Everyone's shouting at le chien who having chased the monkey up the tree can't get down. A reality check to 1980s French rural living. Doesn't help me though as I watch George execute another coup de grace. Or is he ordering an ice cream?

We met up with WSM tonight, an uber PR agency, who have flown out to follow 50in50 on behalf of ON, one of our sponsors. Great fun but more about that next blog as this is tortuously long already.

4hrs 32mins. Fast, but not furious.

I dunno. This is supposed to be a long haul effort and here he is, tonking along like it's 'only' a one off 26.2 miler. in the quickest time yet.

After seeing none at all of La Rochelle owing to the wetroom with a bunk bed we stayed in last night (it's good for Hugh to experience such things, though possibly not now), we legged it off to something that was supposed to be a beach but turned out to be a new roundabout by the sea. Still, a carpark for the warm ups, an all important facility.

Scenery, is, in reality, a secondary consideration at the beginning of the day when we want to start ASAP. Hugh likes easy roads to run on, preferably small, traffic free ones but above all those that have a good surface and a clear vista. One needs to get into a zone, particularly during the first 10 miles when you're trying to settle into the long day ahead when there are still a shedload of these damn things hanging over you, or rather, Hugh. Just in case I've painted too Disney a picture of this.

Nice day though, rain free again and a countryside run, interspersed with a couple of attractive towns. Hugh felt the best he has done during the whole trip, helped no doubt by my 8 mile trot with him at the end. He's under a new regimen, devised by Samia which cuts down breaks to a minimum and means I have to ensure the pasta is al dente and on time. This is all geared to getting Hugh to a non stop performance at Brighton if any more credibility were required by that stage. Still, as a VIP runner, he wants to give it a good crack (as I do if I ever get back to fighting weight).

George arrived tonight, joint head of the UK desk. He has the same impressive amount of hair as Jonny. We are concerned it is a Folicle Conspiracy to steal the limeight and Hugh is also watching shampoo related expenses very carefully.

4hrs 42mins. A cracking run on small winding roads.

Hugh has now completed 70%; a serious achievement. That would normally mean he's got an 'A' before doing anything else. He's a running swot though, and in great shape, so we continue.

Rich farming country now on a very warm, sunny day. We're in between recognised wine regions but have stocks so are OK until we get to the Loire. Spring is definitely here - the green shoots of crops, blossom on the trees, lamb gallivanting (probably) etc ad nauseum. Reminds me of that time just before the summer term of university; the feeling of Spring sun on one's back followed by the certainty of imminent failure before fear and focus pulled another save out of the bag.

Hugh is relaxed and cheerful as ever on a beautiful day. It's a bit like the Cotswolds here; honey coloured stone, pretty villages and undulating countryside; all of which attract would be landscape painters, caravanners and other criminals. We had a fortuitously placed lunch stop in a village square with a church, loos and a couple of aces of tarmac on which to turn our nimble jalopy. We filled the water tank and Hugh reclined briefly on a bench, during which time I was able to 'conjur' up something resembling pasta before our hero hoofed off once more.

I joined Hugh later for 7 miles which felt OK and it is good to be running with him again - the peacefulness and unspoken conviviality of it all. Samia spotted several species of hen today and some different coloured cows and a red squirrel was sighted. She's happy. The days just fly by..

In a motel south of La Rochelle tonight. Hugh and I have a double and a bunk bed above. He insists on the latter and sits scoffing pizza and coke like a schoolboy with a beard.

We start from the quayside of the town proper tomorrow so this will be our last sighting of the French coast before Calais. Heading north east tomorrow in the direction of Blighty, but still some way off.

4hrs 50 minutes. A quiet run in the country.

Spot on performance though the countryside. A peaceful run with few distractions- just the ticket.

The Rough Guide tells me that Cognac is a self satisfied little place, insulated from recession as it exports eighty per cent of its chief product. Frankly, it has a right to be and so do we finding our start point with absurd ease this morning, after our smug parking success last night. Surely this trip should be opening rather than narrowing our horizons.

Sunny day today. Bit of an upset tummy last night. No cognac so not that. Could be the crab soup or too much foie gras. Quiet though I tried to be I had clearly woken Hugh 'tree frogs in the bathroom?' he enquired as I crept clumsily past him back to my bed. Just a snapshot of what the poor chap has to put up with in addition to the day's grind. Pepto Bismolled up, I have been consequently firmly grasping the navigator's seat most of the day.

The route today was absurdly attractive, if I do say so myself. More vineyards again interspersed with farmland, a blue sky, and a perfect temperature for running. Hugh had a great day where he felt completely niggle free. He donned some pink tape today, mainly for (misguided) aesthetic purposes but with mysterious preventative properties to stop injures re-surfacing.

I trotted out the last 5 miles with him, Achilles seemingly on the mend and breathed in the countryside, taking in some diesel fumes as a few other motor homes went past. The last bit of the route has been tweeked to make it an out and back run the last couple of days, meaning Samia can also use the bike. Today she was out 'seeking animals'. We presume in a legal manner.

Not a lot else to report. Some locals, not one a jot under 60 helped push us out of some mud but that was pretty much it. We stay tonight in a truly lovely hotel in the village of Aulnay, well north of Cognac, winding our way back to the coast tomorrow in La Rochelle. Duck with petit pois and a delicious lemon cake. Nothing too rich so I'm confident the tree frogs will remain in their natural habitat this evening.

4 hr 49mins. Consistency is key.

Happy Easter everyone. Trust you're all replete after a splendid feed. We're not, yet.

So what you need to know - another faultless effort from the boy. Helped possibly by the fact that he didn't get an Easter egg. I should have asked Sophie if he expects one but I am comforted by the fact that he has already eaten the Easter bunny's weight in Snickers.

These are nervous days in way. One is tempted to think we're really on the home straight but there are 17 full marathons left. That's an awful lot of running for Hugh and therefore discipline must be maintained. Perhaps the sort of thing a little respected headmaster might say faced with a spirited boy, and let's face it, Hugh knows what he's doing by now. He is resisting a temptation try and push the pace too much even with the visiting runners. The last three days gives us evidence; 4 hrs 46, 47 and 49 mins. Almost Teutonic efficiency. Normally this would never do but necessary for the long haul still to come.

Another perambulation through wine country today, moving from Fronsac into the Charentes and Cognac producing area. Splendid. Gav, Emma and Jonny stayed with us for the morning before catching their flights. Jonny and Hugh choreographed and performed a runners' dance called 'Morning Vicar'. See the video which should be uploaded by tomorrow. 'Fluffer' Hills then left with instructions for us to stand with our thoughts outside a box and stare at the blue sky, thinking laterally. He worries me sometimes. We watched him leave with PR Weekly and man-bag constantly at the ready, telling me things we 'simply must' push to increase publicity (he's right of course) whilst lugging a huge bag of hair products. Off they all went, this particular goodbye longer than a Shakespearean death, and left the original team of 3 to get on with it. We'll miss them of course. They have been a great help and good company.

We now reside in Cognac, if only for the evening. Unbelievably we managed to park the beast outside the hotel, virtually unprecedented in a town centre. Fascinating it isn't but this sort of thing makes a lot of difference at the end of the day. We start at the other side of the bridge tomorrow; the other side, Hugh.