What's the point having a Dad who is GM when he's daft enough to appoint me as scribe, knowing full well that he's going to have to do most of the work.

Anyway, there was a good mid-week turnout at the County Hotel, Carnforth, waiting eagerly with torches in hand. Another unusually warm, bright spring day meant that we could expect a chilly evening with eerie mists and spooky things drifting about - just to carry on Nipple's Silverdale theme. In fact it was Nipple doing the haring alone, as Edward had dropped out due to other commitments. I stood there looking at his knees, while his voice came down from the sky explaining about flour and things. I never take any notice anyway at this point, because someone always takes my hand and the responsibility away from my Dad.

The r*n was just like Sunday r*ns, except it was dark. I r*n with the sensible ones as usual - Forever Blowing, Atomic Caton and Katie, a new knitter. Atomic Caton hasn't been for a while and turned up for a night r*n - my Dad says that she maybe hangs upside-down on Sundays. My Dad r*n with the Rambos as usual - Slackbladder, Muff Diver, Malfunction, Porky and the Septics. I don't understand this rambo thing - they r*n further than they have to and still only get a beer at the end. My Dad says it's a bloke thing! The r*n had splits, ups and downs, slippery bits, bridges which echo when you shout on-on underneath and a friendly giant hare, who shouted me back on trail when I went wrong. The beer stop was next to a wooden bridge in the middle of a field and Dad looked confused, because there wasn't any beer.

The circle was OK, but I had to drink coke, because there was no fruit shoot. Down-downs were awarded to the following:

• GM - he says the RA just gives him one to keep him sweet - he says GMs are always right and never do anything wrong!?
• Forever Blowing - for driving against the arrows in the car park and enjoying it
• The Septics - for accepting a tandem - my Dad says the one in front mustn't eat curries
• Porky - he deserves one anyway coming all the way from Africa;
  Everyone - for blatant shortcutting - what's wrong with that?

I fell asleep on the way home in the car - bored of listening to my Dad and Muff-diver rambling on about the olden days. My Dad said I'd been a good girl, because I hadn't let on about my new shoes. He bought me grey ones when I wanted pink and made sure I ran in them for the first time at night, just so nobody would notice. I didn't want beer in them anyway.