Can't buy me love...

There have been 14 martyred Roman saints that have gone by the name Valentine. Nobody's quite sure which one is commemorated on February 14th. The first recorded connection between St Valentine and romantic love was made by Chaucer in 1382 when courtly love was first imported from France as the next big thing.

Numerous poets have alluded to it down the ages but it didn't really kick off as a commercial venture until the late 18th Century, when a British publisher produced a book of romantic poetry for those too lazy and/or stupid to write their own.

Until the 19th Century, hand written notes and letters were exchanged between the nation's love sick but by the mid 1800s cards were being manufactured in factories for sale to the public: at last, you could now prove how much you cared by spending every last farthing on a pre-printed card.

By the mid 20th Century things had moved on again and gifts such as flowers, chocolates and even jewellery (in addition to cards) were being exchanged - items that between February 13th and 14th see a bigger price hike than Whitney Houston albums.

Inevitably, the internet has seen a surge of Valentine cards exchanged online, with an estimated 15 million e-valentines being sent in 2010. Would-be Casanovas, their loins unfettered by the world wide web, can now express their passion in an unstoppable, orgasmic fountain of cheap, red, cutesy, virtual tat.

Not that I'm bitter or anything...

Today's run at 18:48
Distance	4.01 km	Time	21:29
Pace	5:22 min/km	Cadence	81 spm
Comments: Cloudy.

Dydd Santes Dwynwen...

It's Burns Night tonight: a celebration of Robert Burns' life and poetry on January 25th, his birthday. Traditionally, haggis is eaten and whiskey is drunk, poems and songs by Robert Burns are recited and sung with much toasting and speeches given.

In Wales, today is Dydd Santes Dwynwen (Saint Dwynwen's Day). Dwynwen is the Welsh saint of love and as such, today is the Welsh equivalent of St Valentine's Day. The stories of how she became the saint for love all begin with her falling for Maelon. What happens then varies from banishment to rape but all agree that she never fulfilled her love and instead became a nun.

Never let it be said that we're not a romantic nation, us welshies...

Today's run at 17:28
Distance	4.01 km	Time	22:42
Pace	5:40 min/km	Cadence	82 spm
Comments: Cloudy.

It seems that even God has limitations...

Tonight I read the news about the dangerous advice given by certain churches in London, Manchester and Glasgow for people with HIV to stop taking their medication. Instead, the churches claim, the Lord will cure these people. As a consequence, at least six people have already died after following this advice.

At Lourdes, crutches, walking sticks and canes are hung up as proof of the miracles that the Lord has performed there, allowing the lame to walk again - a testament to our Lord's infinite powers. But if his powers are so infinite, where have they hung the false legs and prosthetic arms and glass eyes...?

Advice to people with serious conditions to give up their medication and instead trust in God is surely evil and unchristian. Don't we still prosecute people in this country for assisting suicide...?

That Friday feeling...

Friday. Once the 6th and now (since 1971 in the UK) the 5th day of the week, Friday has many associations. It was the day on which Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit and also the day on which they died. For Muslims it is the Sabbath and the day on which they believe Adam was created.

In Norse mythology it was thought to be a lucky day whilst in Christianity it is considered the unluckiest - Christ having been crucified on this day. It is a day of abstinence in the Catholic week; they abstain from meat and traditionally eat fish on a Friday instead.

It is believed to be a bad day for ships to put to sea although it is the day that Columbus set sail for the Americas and also the day on which he first sighted land. Friday is considered particularly unlucky if it falls on the 13th day of the month, although, since adoption of the Gregorian Calendar, the 13th of the month is statistically more likely to fall on a Friday than any other day.

In offices up and down the country it has become a dress down day and an early finish day; an extension to the weekend for those lucky enough to get off early. It is often called POETS Day by many workers, meaning: Piss Off Early Tomorrow's Saturday.

It used to be known as Hanging Day after the numerous executions which took place on this day and in modern times it is the most common day on which to be born; obstetricians would prefer to induce labour on Friday rather than have their golfing weekends interrupted by one of their patients giving birth.

Monday morning feels so bad,
Everybody seems to nag me
Coming Tuesday I feel better,
Even my old man looks good,
Wednesday just don't go,
Thursday goes too slow,
I've got Friday on my mind - The Easybeats

It is said that, "He who laughs on Friday will weep on Sunday." Now, how many times has that happened to me, eh...?

Frightening...

My run tonight was much quicker than of late with a pace of 5'17" over 4.35 km in 23'02". And as I ran around the Bay tonight I saw two kids dressed up as bats for Halloween. They were ringing a doorbell but there was no answer. They looked a little confused, glancing back to the gate where their mum stood in a Puffa style jacket, smoking and talking on her mobile. In a competition for the most frightening, she'd've beaten the kids every time.

We never had halloween when I was a kid. We were too busy; either collecting wood for our bonfire for Guy Fawkes night or trying to set light to other kids' bonfires. Of course, we'd heard of Halloween and knew what it was but we didn't mark it in any way.

It seems that over the last 30 to 40 years it's grown in popularity here; a US import of the 80s along with Dallas and Dynasty. A pagan festival adopted by the early church and preserved in Catholic heartlands, it first took a grip in America when the Irish and Scots émigrés took it over with them in the 19th Century.

It has now become embedded and commercialised (inevitably) here with whole families dressed up in the cheap, supermarket bought costumes of assorted ghouls and witches. Out for a mid afternoon stroll, replete with halloween themed sweets, cakes and biscuits, Mum, Dad and the kids can be seen in MacDonalds or BHS - zombied out with their made up ashen faces, sunken eyes and weeping sores.

At the other end of the spectrum you have the nearest Saturday to Halloween populated by hoards of revellers hell bent on getting rat arsed and dressed up as something but, it often seems, nothing Halloween related. Santas, Elvises, Village People, Smurfs and the odd slutty nurse seem to be the order of the day - although what they've got in common with Halloween, who knows?

My one attempt to celebrate it a couple of years ago (pictured above) was the result of much vodka, lots of eye make-up, a long black fur coat and excruciatingly painful snake-eyed contact lenses.

Apocalypse now and then...

Harold Camping, who incorrectly predicted that the world would end last May, has claimed it will now happen today. Camping, 90, stated that Judgement Day would take place on May 21, when Jesus would return to Earth and the righteous would be taken up to Heaven.

He predicted an Apocalypse once before, in 1994, though followers now say that only referred to an intermediary stage. Those earlier predictions having failed, he now claims that today, October 21, will be the actual Apocalypse.

As I ran around the Bay tonight, I had one eye focused on the sky, on the lookout for an old man with grey hair and a full beard shaking his fists at me from a break in the clouds, pointing and then sending a plague of locusts and all manner of catastrophes my way. The clouds didn't part and I didn't see anyone.

After my run I was going to tidy the flat in time for the big bang; I wouldn't want God and a heavenly choir turning up and me embarassed by some cleaning I'd neglected. But then I got to thinking; let's face it, in the first few days after the Apocalypse who out of the survivors is gonna be concentrating on the state of my skirting boards? In the unlikely event that I'm chosen, I think it would be a little churlish for someone to point out a smudge or smear I'd missed on the mirror in the hall. I expect they'd be far too preoccupied with their own rapture.

But then, they do say that cleanliness is next to godliness.

It's a sign from God...

When I started out on my run tonight, the sun was shining but before I'd even completed the first 500m it was hammering down with rain. Within minutes of that downpour I was wiping the rain off my sunglasses because the sun was ablaze again and shining in my eyes. Next thing, it's both dazzlingly sunny and raining heavily. This weather is (to say the least) a little strange and it's sometimes referred to as the Devil is beating his wife.

At least he wasn't gnawing on my hip. Tonight was my first run back at my usual 5km in about three weeks. I've not run that distance since I hurt my hip running around the barrage with my mate, Andy, from Bristol. My running since that time has been a leisurely 3km three times a week so it was good to get back into the old routine. Furthermore, not a twinge of the hip was felt throughout. Twinge ye not! Somebody up there likes me...

So where does such a bizarre phrase as the Devil is beating his wife as an alternative term for a sunshower come from? Well I Googled the phrase and got the usual reliable and solid Wikipedia article. The article explains a number of alternative terms for a sunshower but does not really tackle the etymology of the phrase in question. There are terms such as a monkey's wedding and a jackal's wedding to describe this weather condition along with a hyena's giving birth and witches are combing their hair. The only real consensus seems to be they all probably originated as myths that try to explain this unlikely mix of seemingly opposite weather conditions.

By far the best answer was thrown up by Yahoo Answers where sharpie08 asks,

I grew up in south ga. and i've always been told that when it's raining but also sunny outside that the devil is beating his wife. Where did this originate from?

To which the Best Answer given by red_kidney_beans is:

I think it means that God is crying. It rains when bad things are about to happen and that is a sign from God. Not always but sometimes. My pastor attended a wedding where it rained and he said "this is a bad sign" and one month later, the husband murdered the bride.

If you've recently been to a wedding where the weather wasn't tip top, you might want to pass this on...

A conspiracy of inanimate objects...

There are so many things in this life that we do not fully understand, cannot begin to explain and defy logic to the point of being hocus pocus and voodoo. Before we get to explaining what exactly gravity is or why planes stay up in the sky, maybe we should turn our attention to inexplicables of a more domestic nature.

For me, many of these mysteries are a vindictive conspiracy against me by inanimate objects; when the jam jar lid falls to the floor and lands perfectly balanced on its side before neatly rolling through the 3mm gap between the cooker and the kitchen unit; when the zip on a sweat shirt snags with the t-shirt underneath and, after much tugging, you have to be cut out of both garments; when I have to wait to get in the shower because I can't get my watch off because the folding clasp bracelet won't slide over my hand no matter what I try (although it slipped on easily enough that morning). Surely, these can only be explained by some retributive act by the big beardy man in the sky?

Tonight whilst cycling across the bridge to the pool for a swim, my bike decided to do a little vertical hop for no apparent reason. The path was smooth and I was riding slowly in a straight line and yet it did a little jump. I lost control and nearly went over the handlebars. In trying to regain control, my gonads made a sharp connection with the top of the handlebar post and I gouged a lump out of my ankle with the peddle. This, in turn, triggered an uncontrollable bout of Tourette's, much to the amusement of some passing kids.

I eventually got to the pool and managed to get changed. I limped with throbbing groin and bloodied ankle to the water's edge - looking like a re-enactment of the D-Day Landings (except in red Speedos and looking a bit gay). Swimming, I left a faint signal of blood from my peddle-gouged ankle in my wake. Had I been in open water rather than the safety of Cardiff International Pool, Great Whites would have sniffed me out in no time.

I can quite see how people believed in poltergeists. What other explanation could there be?

I'm not superstitious but...

I'm out running and before I know it, I've stepped on a drain cover. No! Why don't I focus on what I'm doing rather than daydreaming and passively taking in the passing scenery. Wait! I only stepped on a drain cover; it's not the end of the world.

I should imagine I am not alone when I admit to having some superstitions about running. The world of sport has always been littered with participants (and followers) who have rituals, quirks and superstitions to do with their activity.

A lot of the superstions runners have will centre on the competition day, such as not shaving on a race day or not wearing new running gear on a race day. I guess, though, the last thing you want to do on a race day is to be distracted by something like itchy stubble or, worse still, ill fitting trainers.

Others get superstitious about their preparation before a run, for example eating certain foodstuffs or doing stretches in a certain order. This too makes good sense, as what and when you eat has such an impact on your running. I recently read an article arguing that the absense of a pre-run stretch did not lead to injuries; what led to injuries was the absence of a pre-run stretch if you normally streched before your run or the inclusion of a pre-run stretch if you normally didn't bother.

Some superstitions will focus on training; I was recently talking to a runner who did not like the week's milage to end in a 9. I'm not quite sure how to explain that one rationally. Perhaps this is one that is actually based on true superstition. Bonkers!

I'm not normally a superstitious person; things that are not based in knowledge or reason rarely get much space. I guess, though, that there's actually some sense in avoiding running on drain covers, especially when you see the state on some of the drains that pepper my route. However, it has now gone beyond sense and I often put myself at greater risk by running in the road in order to avoid the drain cover than the risk I'd face by running on the drain cover itself. High time that I got a grip and knocked it on the head.

Now, where's my lucky rabbit's foot...?