Author: Artsystems

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

2nd April 2006

1.	Mike Wheatley	3:57:59
2.	Mal Grimmett	4:18:15
3.	Dan Thompson	4:35:04
4.	Peter Bignell	4:43:39
5.	Steve Hyde	5:14:23
6.	Bruce Salisbury	5:27:35
7.	Shane Pettingill	5:34:47
8.	Ben Cotter	5:51:11
9.	Garry Wise	5:53:27
10.	Brendan Mason	5:57:45
11.	John Dobson	5:57:45
12.	Richard McCormick	6:07:09
13.	Richard Arney	6:37:55
14.	Ernie Hartley	6:51:56
15.	Peter Gray	9:31:58

Andrew Herman DNF 42km
Brian Glover DNF 42km
Warren Holst DNF 40km
Alissa Jones [F] DNF 31km

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

Sitting in the dining room of the Sandy Hotel on race eve, it was somewhat of a surprise to have Lois Wishart serving up the grilled fish and vegetables. Lois was one of our more prolific marathoners during the eighties and nineties and ran the Frankston to Portsea in 1992. When I suggested she front up the next morning, she scoffed despite the fact that she still looked as fit as ever. Despite not having run competitively for years, she confided that she was still knocking out 80 kilometres a week along with 100 kilometres of cycling!! Should she ever decide on a comeback, a swag of veterans prizes await.

I’d been wondering how many runners would forget about the end of daylight savings and roll up an hour early but the deserted car park at the start put paid to such assumptions. In the space of 20 minutes, runners arrived from a variety of directions and we were about to get underway in the morning stillness when I realised that three of our intrepid runners were still car shuffling back from Portsea planting “special” drinks along the way. They arrived in a cloud of dust to the screeching of tyres resulting in a slightly delayed start. With Peter Gray heading off early [5am], 18 runners hit the highway to Portsea at 7:12am. Kelvin Marshall was an understandable absentee given the lame and embarrassing performance of his beloved Richmond Football Team the previous night. He was more likely to have been preparing for a swan dive off the Westgate Bridge.

The early stages proved uneventful with the notable highlight being the spontaneous appearance of a couple of rogues in the form of Kon Butko and Ross Shilston. These two shady characters are the original pioneers from 1973. Put simply, we wouldn’t be here if not for their hasty decision to trek down the Nepean Highway all those years ago.

Mike Wheatley, Mal Grimmett, Peter Bignell and Dan Thompson formed a quartet at the front of the field and it appeared that Mike and Mal would repeat their “Leyland Brothers” effort of 2003. By 10km, Peter had surged ahead dazzlingly gaining his Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame. A large flock of ducks fossicking studiously amongst the roadside appeared most unperturbed by the passing runners.

Brendan Mason provided a dimension of comic relief when he went in search of his “planted drinks” at 10km. Proving fruitless, it eventually dawned on the absent minded sod that they were actually another 5km down the road! All I could hope was that he doesn’t experience any “missed” drinks when he tackles the dessert sands of the Marathon des Sables in a weeks time. A committed “gadget freak”, Brendan was journeying down the highway with a variety of electronic gadgets strapped to his body. There was the wiz bang GPS, computerised map printer, light dissecting meter, runner comfort gizmo, lung volume reader and podcast recorder. I didn’t bother to ask, but his back pocket undoubtedly contained a pop-up combination dishwasher/clothes dryer/ironing board!

Former Race Director from the eighties and nineties, Dennis Smith, made an appearance on his bike exclaiming loudly with a distinctly bewildered expression “Gee, you guys must have started late”. Poor Dennis had forgotten the end of daylight savings. His loss of memory would be on a par with the Australian Wheat Board executives giving evidence at the inquiry into secret kick backs paid to Saddam Hussein.

Approaching halfway on the road into Dromana, things were starting to take shape. A consistent Australian 100km representative on numerous occasions, Mike Wheatley established a substantial lead over Mal Grimmett and Peter Bignell with first time ultra runners, Shane Pettingill and Dan Thompson doing well. Also well to the fore was Steve Hyde. Further back, Warren Holst, Brendan Mason, John Dodson, Garry Wise, Bruce Salisbury and Ben Cotter were all within sight of each other.

Dromana was where I awkwardly dived into a Licensed Grocers to snap up a couple of bottles of wine for our respective winners. “We can’t sell alcohol until 10am, it’s the law” snapped the dull but attractive sales girl in the most brittle of tones. Settling for a Diet Coke for myself, the wine purchasing had to wait until later which proved to be somewhat of a close call given Mike’s cracking and inexhaustible pace.

Driving back towards the tail of the field, I found Richard McCormick wondering if he was on the correct course while Andrew Herman and Richard Arney remained close together. Ernie Hartley, who drives the fastest milk cart in the west, bailed me up to refill his water bottle which he quickly jabbed back into his waste belt. Further back, our sole female runner, Alissa Jones, and perennial ultra walker, Brian Glover, were travelling steadily.

Progressing through Rosebud, I managed to track down the early starting Peter Gray. Expressing surprise that it had taken so long for anyone to catch him, it became obvious that he was another victim of the “forgotten daylight savings bug” with his actual starting time being 4am! Peter is Australia’s most prolific ultra runner with 187 races under his belt over a period of 20 years. The only thing as recognisable around the ultra circles is his decidedly unmistakeable van. Sadly, Peter’s van died on the return trip from Red Rocks the previous weekend and was now sitting in an Armidale mechanics shop awaiting a new engine, “I’ll pick it up in July when I go to the Gold Coast Marathon” he stated optimistically.

Passing the Rosebud Sunday Market at 35km, Brendan Mason’s and Richard McCormick’s respective families understandably abandoned their gasping sweaty husbands/fathers for the infinitely more inviting and exciting prospect of snaring a bargain or two at the trash and treasure stalls. Young Rory Mason was over the moon with his attractively priced “new” book titled “Boys Own 1968”! An absolute steal at one dollar, I mused as to the cutting edge technology it may have featured. Perhaps some tin model racing cars or a replica Gene Autrey gun holster!

Feeling the need for some lunch, I snuck into a road side milk bar near Rye where a large bright sign enthusiastically encouraged all to purchase a particular brand of lollipops for 99 cents each or three for three dollars! Pointing out the mathematical distortion to the cheery faced but somewhat dishevelled shop owner, he seemed quite bemused. “People have been snapping them up three at a time all week”, he mumbled. Strange creatures, we humans!

Mike Wheatley charged through the polished and attractive streetscapes of Sorrento with haste and again stopped the watch under four hours as he stole into Portsea. Just as he regularly pumps out 100km races under eight hours, his consistency over this course is outstanding. Mal Grimmett also ran a superbly judged race for second with first timer, Dan Thompson, impressive in third. I managed to find a couple of voice mail messages as runners started emerging over the final hill into the finish. Alissa Jones had called it a day suffering the after effects of flu but the second message was of a substantially urgent tone. Brian Glover’s wife had managed to flatten the battery of her car, a fact to which Brian was oblivious. With the help of a phone from a nearby resident and the RACV, she finally got going but not before Brian had gone two hours without a drink. Unfortunate circumstances is the only way to describe his dehydration and resultant DNF.

Warren Holst arrived at the finish via the back seat of his family car having suffered an injury while Andrew Herman called it a day at the marathon point having recorded a qualifying time for the Comrades Marathon. All others made it to the gates of the Portsea National Park to receive the traditional blocks of chocolate and mirrors. “The mirrors are bigger this year” observed Mal Grimmett. “That’s for our bigger heads” laughed Peter Bignell. Richard Arney wore an expression that strongly suggested the satisfaction of finishing his first ultra would be deep and lasting.

Steve Hyde dished up the days most memorable entertainment. Intensely gratified with his 5:14 P.B., he stretched out exuberantly on the grass, sunk a large drink, towelled off the perspiration, engaged in a chat and sought some warmer clothes. He then expressed surprise with his time, “But My Watch Says 5:20” he grumbled in a confused tone. After much discussion and lamenting at the “poor’ quality of his newly purchased watch, he suddenly looked rather sheepish. Poor Steve had neglected to hit the stop button and the minutes were still happily ticking away! After a 55km run, I guess a degree of brain deadening can be forgiven.

As the day moved into mid afternoon, the gathering of runners and crew at the finish started shrinking with amazing rapidity. My untiring assistant, Sandra, started piling runners into her car with Peter Gray remaining to fill my one spare seat back to Frankston. The sight of pre season football games amongst the local parks as we made the return journey was a gentle reminder of the change of seasons as Peter’s accounts of his incredible ultra career provided absorbing conversation material.

Finally sorting through the paperwork upon returning home, it appears that I have finished in the red again but so be it. With such questionable accounting skills, I could probably sack myself without any fear of unfair dismissal recriminations thanks to John Howard’s new Industrial Relations laws.

Without question, we’ll be back in 2007.

Runners Comments

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

3rd April 2005

1.	Mike Wheatley	3:57:27
2.	Mary Morgan [F]	4:32:25
3.	Max Gibbs	4:39:22
4.	Peter Bignell	4:56:06
5.	David Spencer	5:27:44
6.	Steve Hyde	5:27:45
7.	Julia Thorn [F]	5:29:59
8.	Don Carlson	5:44:36
9.	Mick Worthington	6:02:44
10.	Ben Cotter	6:05:44
11.	Garry Wise	6:07:27
12.	Jane Sturzaker [F]	6:09:44
13.	James Grant	6:16:55
14.	Andrew Herman	6:39:01
15.	George Thomas	6:43:20
16.	David Jones	6:58:33
17.	Paul Spencer	7:04:55
18.	Greg Wishart	9:05:25

Sandra Howorth [F] 30km 4:11:36 [Moats Corner to Portsea]
Warren Holst DNF
Sani Badic DNF

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

I guess there is no escaping the modern technology that is taking over the world. Prior to the run, I was inundated with calls from a variety of companies offering me computer chip timing, laser beamed recording devices, electronic race numbers and a whole host of other dazzling “new world” inventions along with the usual canvassing from those who supply cups, tents, bunting etc. Clearly, the competition is fierce in the sports technology market. I took each call with a polite chuckle as I explained that our little low key run has, for some 33 years, managed quite well with the 70’s style method of a hand held stop watch and hand written results on completion!

A record field of 21 starters had me overwhelmed as the car park filled to the brim with runners, cars and a variety of helpers/crew. My own chance of running quickly flew out the proverbial door as an unprecedented level of assistance was need on the course. Amongst the field were a number of runners warming up for the Coburg 24 Hour event in a fortnight, two runners from Bendigo and Ballarat respectively with another two visitors all the way from Bunbury on the West Coast, one of which just happened to be Mary Morgan. Mary spent most of the 90’s representing Australia as she matched it with the World’s best 100km runners. Without doubt, Mary is the highest credentialed runner to have graced this event. Poor Mary and Don Carlson had the extreme misfortune of having Geoff Hook as their crew and much to their consternation, were risking their lives by allowing him to drive them to the Airport for the flight home the next day!

A flurry of activity saw runners preparing and dumping their nominal five dollar entry fee in my trusty ice cream container. Max Gibbs once again proved his status as a world class cheapskate by handing me a bag of five cent coins! I shall get even with the old sod one day!! Max may have legend status as a ten time Frankston to Portsea runner but he can’t even claim to be the best runner in his own street. That title goes to his newly acquired neighbour, World 400 Metre Hurdle Champion, Jana Pittman.

The original inspiration for this run dates back to the late 50’s and 60’s when the eccentric coach, Percy Cerruty, would drive his band of world class athletes to Frankston and have them run back to his Portsea camp. Athletes travelled from around the globe to seek the coaching secrets at Portsea that had produced so many World Records. Mixing it at Portsea at the time was a teenager by the name of Neil Padley who ran the course solo a number of times in the mid 60’s. Neil is no longer a teenager but had travelled down from Queensland with the intention of running, only to have injury put such plans on hold for at least another year. The previous night, Neil had me totally enthralled with stories of his days under Percy’s coaching. The Spartan lifestyle, the gut busting workouts, rubbing shoulders with so many World Record holders and Percy’s cajoling style that extracted so much from his runners. 40 Years later, Neil still gets a tear in his eye when he discusses what Percy meant to him and the influence he had upon his life. In 2005, it was our honour to have Neil as our “Guest Starter”

In persistent drizzle, Neil mentioned the word “Go” and the run was underway. Ahead lay 55 kilometres of bitumen road with the traditional finisher’s block of chocolate waiting at Portsea. I was intending to purchase the chocolate further down the road but when I pulled into the local Caltex service station for a newspaper, I was pleasantly surprised to see chocolate available on a two for one special. “Can I have 22 blocks of Cadbury please?” I asked, much to the bemusement of the cashier behind the counter. Upon explaining their use, I had an elderly man behind me chirp in with “I’d want more than just chocolate if I ran to Portsea……..I think I’d need a young blonde giving mouth to mouth” he laughed. With such a mood of merriment permeating the shop, I was able to offload all those pesky little silver coins that Max Gibbs had inflicted upon me. I don’t know what it is, but every time I see a purple Cadbury wrapper, it reminds me of Julius Sumner Miller and those ridiculous commercials from 20 years ago. “A glass and a half” he would enthuse to the kids in his craggy voice. Climbing back into my car, I discovered two voicemail messages just 30 seconds apart. The first was from Kelvin Marshall saying that he was running late but hoped to be able to catch a few runners along the way…….this was followed by Kelvin again, “I’ve changed my mind and am turning around to go to the Geelong Half Marathon”. And so we didn’t see Kelvin.

Runners had well and truly stretched out in the first 20 kilometres with Mike Wheatley and Sani Badic going head to head at the front of the field with seasoned veteran, Greg Wishart, bringing up the tail. Despite the rain, it was still quite muggy and keeping up the water supply was an unrelenting job for our trusty band of helpers in Ian Clarke, Sandra Stewart and Ross Shilston. Ultimately, I was to spend my time at the front of the field and was unable to see what was going on back down the highway which was a disappointment of sorts as this is usually where most of the action takes place. With Sani suffering an injury inflicted retirement, Mike was suddenly alone in front.

In all honesty, I don’t think there is any more pathetic a sight than that of the male mid life identity crisis. This was rammed home to me when I seized the chance to sneak into the Rye liquormart to grab a couple of bottles of wine for our respective winners. I propped patiently at the counter behind what was clearly a male of the oddest form. Aged at least 50, he had bleached curly hair, a spray on tan, several ear rings and a red shirt with “Supercar Racing Team” or some such wacko name, emblazoned across the back. Everyone in the shop was viewing him with much mirth but when I saw him later in the car park getting into a bright red sports convertible with “COOL-1” on his registration plate, I had to buckle up laughing. All he needed was “Look at me, I’m a Tosser” tattooed on his forehead to complete the sad picture.

With much relief, the drizzling rain relented but only to allow a strong wind to kick up. The wind got stronger…and stronger…and stronger.

Standing roadside at the 45km point was what the runners considered to be a gift from above. Brendan Mason had arrived to cheer everyone on and had a small esky full of icy poles. Brendan stayed for several hours and assisted all who came by. I know you will read this, Brendan, so let me tell you that you’re a legend and a half. Hopefully you’ll return next year in running gear and toe the line in Frankston.

By the time I arrived at the finish to await Mike Wheatley’s arrival, the wind was so strong that I could barely stand still without falling over. Given that the last 12 kilometres was run directly into the gale that refused to relent in the most unsporting of fashions, running was substantially more difficult than usual.

Mike stormed home to a big win with Mary Morgan outright second……and then they all started arriving. David Spencer and Steve Hyde staged an exciting sprint finish just ahead of Julia Thorn. Julia almost joined the “Cheapskate Club” with Max Gibbs by not paying her five dollar entry but managed to save face when her long suffering husband, Dennis, forked out a purple note at Portsea.

Peter Bignell put up a top first up run and the ever smiling Ben Cotter was amongst a group of five separated by just minutes. Ben even sent a thank you e-mail to all who assisted him on the day. Another highlight was the run of Andrew Herman who was needing a qualifier for the Comrades Marathon in South Africa. Andrew could not stop smiling after achieving his goal with over 30 minutes to spare.

The buzz of activity at the finish soon started vanishing as our course officials [Ross, Sandra and Ian] began ferrying runners back to Frankston. In almost an instant, the area was deserted and I was standing alone waiting for Greg Wishart who was still two hours away. The foul weather had ruined any chance of a tranquil sunset so I sat under a tree staring into space. Out of nowhere, a tall thin woman suddenly appeared and stared down her nose at me asking “Do you know when the bus arrives down here?” “No Idea” I said without a pause. Without a further word, she disappeared down the road. She sure did look peculiar with her head bent back as if she was worried that her eyes might fall out of her head. She vanished in such a manner that I felt as if I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. With the day quickly fading, Greg arrived and piled straight into my passenger seat upon which we hit the road without haste for the journey home.

We’ll be back again in April 2006

Runners Comments

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

4th April 2004

1.	Kelvin Marshall	4:39:58
2.	Kevin Cassidy	5:12:33
3.	Warren Holst	5:18:29
4.	Phil Lear	5:25:31
5.	David Spencer	5:27:00
6.	John Bell	5:28:14
7.	Michelle Thompson [F]	5:45:48
8.	Ernie Hartley	6:25:43
9.	David Jones	6:54:51
10.	Geoff Hook	7:06:47
11.	Ron Hayward	8:57:11

Reinhard Grussler 50km DNF
Dave Jowett  50km DNF
Priscilla Diaz [f] 42km DNF
Andrew Herman 25km DNF

Runners Comments

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

The car radio was dishing up Bob Dylan, Skyhooks and a rendition of Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” during the early morning drive down the freeway to this years Frankston to Portsea event. Given that the race starts on a street corner that is home to three night clubs, the small hours of a Sunday morning can offer some interesting sights. With the sun breaking through and a collection of runners arriving, a rather drunk and unsteady individual with a hairstyle that looked as if it had been dancing to a disco album called “Dance Crazy 2000” staggered up to the pedestrian lights and made numerous pathetic attempts at pressing the button before finally collapsing on his back in a motionless position. It looked very much as if the gangland murders of Melbourne’s northern suburbs had moved south.

I was almost overwhelmed with a larger than normal turnout of 15 starters. A precedent was set this year with a couple of early starters in Geoff Hook and Ron Hayward. Ron, a keen Hash House Harrier, intended to walk at a steady pace while the poor old Hook grizzled that he was way to slow these days and didn’t want to hold everyone up. Both commendably thoughtful acts to say the least, but they did miss out on being in the traditional photo of the start.

Although a low key event, numerous tasks are still required and it was only due to the efforts of Ian Clarke and Sandra Stewart that I was able to run myself. Between them, they tackled collecting the nominal $5 entry fee, collecting names, purchasing the goodies to give out at the finish, recording times and travelling up and down the highway keeping runners well watered…not to mention the photo taking duties. In reality, I have no right at all to refer to myself as the “Race Director” with the term “impostor” perhaps being more appropriate.

An interesting gaggle of runners had assembled including Kelvin Marshall who was dressed for the first time in something other than his green and white “Sydney Striders” singlet. Two ultra faces from the 80’s in John Bell and Phil Lear were also present, Phil having moved north 12 years ago to become part of the Queensland running mafia. Phil’s speech patterns haven’t slowed any, so he seems unaffected by the move. Back in the 60’s, you would have found Phil amongst our best distance runners matching it with the likes of Ron Clarke. Long distance truckie, David Spencer obviously doesn’t see enough bitumen and was back for another good look at the road on what was his 31st birthday. David’s plan was to meet his family at the Portsea Pub for a hearty lunch. Female runners have been a rarity over the years, so it was a pleasure to see Michelle Thompson fronting up for her first ultra while a group of three walkers in Reinhard Grussler, Dave Jowett and Priscilla Diaz were keen to enjoy the day ahead.

A notable non starter was Max “Mad Max” Gibbs, Max was claiming a knee injury and was wearing a huge bandage in a rather poor attempt at some type of visual evidence, however I have a feeling that poor Max is still suffering shock after being frightened by the jelly fish in the recent “Big Bay Swim”, an event where he lowered his colours to none other than Victorian State Premier, Steve Bracks.

With two runners already well on their way, 13 of us hit the road south at 7am for the traditional April trek down the Nepean Highway. The field soon strung out along the rolling undulations through Mornington and the rural areas of the peninsula taking in a bounteous variety of scenery. I raised my eyebrows at the mind numbing sight of a cyclist zig zagging across the highway while trying to talk on his mobile phone, he was also without a helmet and his face had that unusual appearance that brought to mind an aircraft carrier advancing through choppy seas. At approximately 25 km, the course passes the corner of the oddly named Upsndowns Road. Another kilometre down the highway is the Dromana Drive-In Sunday Market and then on to the coast at halfway. With the sun shining, the sailing boats on the rich blue water looked divine. I managed to catch up with the early starting Geoff Hook and what a sight he was, dressed in a bright yellow T-shirt, purple shorts and green socks. He was even decked out in flouro green sunscreen and looked very much like he was on his way to perform at the local circus.

Continuing down the highway through the Rosebud township at 35km and past the Jetty Café where the pizza is scrumptious [yes, I am a regular customer], the billboards on the highway are hard to ignore. “We Cater for Cowards” was the caption under a photo of a nervous looking individual at the local dental clinic while further on at a bus shelter was the confronting question of “Erection problems?” above a mournful looking man superimposed on a purple background. “See your doctor for the Performance Pak”, invited the advertisement in a sad mutation of the English language. I wondered about the exact contents of the said “Performance Pak”. Perhaps it contained yet another brand of those “Medically Proven” nasal sprays that have been designed specifically to lighten the pockets of gullible men. A little further down the road parked under a tree was a rather beaten up old van bearing Queensland number plates and a large and very ancient looking “Joh for PM” bumper sticker. The van itself was empty but the two characters nearby with meaty arms and Cowboy hats appeared the most likely owners. They looked to be very much in an 80’s time warp.

Approaching 45km and heading into Tootgarook, I managed to catch Ron Hayward who had made a 4am start. Ron was walking strongly and was looking fresh. My tiring body crawled into Sorrento at 50km to be confronted with the most hideous development of townhouses you could imagine. Right on the prime location at the bend of Point Nepean Road is an ugly collection of structures that resembles the Bates Motel in Psycho. Equally hideous, if not more so, was the bus load of tourists in loud clothes chewing ice creams while their cameras balanced on their substantially ample bellies. Why is it that tourists are always fat and dress like morons?

With just 800 metres to go, the small Portsea shopping centre was abuzz with youthful and well scrubbed kids wheeling and bouncing around on BMX bikes. I felt as if I was running through a Pepsi Cola commercial.

The finish line at the old Portsea army gates fast became a hive of activity as one by one, runners and crews arrived. Kelvin Marshall had bolted away for a huge win with Michelle Thompson coming through the field in a very well judged run to claim the Women’s line honours in her first ultra attempt. With one marathon as her only previous experience, Michelle has a load of potential ahead of her.

The two winners received the usual bottles of wine while every finisher received “finisher’s mirrors” and the long standing tradition of a block of chocolate which in an upmarket sort of way, was of a high quality Swiss brand rather than the usual Cadbury block.

With the exception of the three walkers still coming through Rosebud, everyone arrived at the finish in reasonably quick succession and headed home. The area became deserted in almost an instant before I suddenly realised that the illustrious Geoff Hook had absconded without paying his $5 entry fee! As a one time Race Director of the Bogong to Hotham run, The Hook was responsible for slugging me a $5 transport fee on four consecutive years for transport back to the start. Transport I never actually received! Yes indeed, the Hook had stitched me up again. An unscrupulous hound if I may say so myself! I shall extract some suitable revenge at a later stage!

With the three walkers still several hours from the finish, I was philosophically contemplating the change of seasons. There is a certain degree of sadness as the summer slowly disappears. Daylight savings comes to a completion and the nights start getting longer and cooler. Football dominates the newspapers and winter is just around the corner. Pretty soon, thick warm coats will re emerge from our dusty wardrobes for another winter of thermal assistance. Regardless, we still have much to be thankful for. A free country, a prosperous age, no more Cricket for six months and the fact that Stan Zemanik no longer infests Melbourne’s talk back radio are four things for which we can all be eternally grateful.

Driving back up the highway to check our walkers progress involved a visit to a McDonald’s store under the orders of a force more powerful than I! The drive-through window [or should that be Drive-THRU?] provided copious amounts of amusement. Parking the car and entering the almost empty store, I ordered a large Diet Coke, made use of the toilets and had a brief chat with the store manager as I consumed my drink. Upon leaving, I noticed that a man in a white Toyota that had been at the rear of the queue upon my arrival was still three cars back from being served! He would have been so much quicker if he had got off his rear end and walked inside. But of course he would never have thought of this because the drive through window is MEANT to be more convenient!

With the afternoon drawing to a close, a mobile phone call confirmed that our final three competitors had finished their walk somewhere between Rye and Sorrento and had arranged transport home having enjoyed their jaunt down the highway.
Undoubtedly, it will all happen again next year.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

6th April 2003

1.	Mal Grimmett	4:43:05
1.	Mike Wheatley	4:43:05
3.	Robert McConnochie	5:18:14
4.	David Spencer	5:19:12
5.	Kevin Cassidy	5:36:27
6.	Peter Gray	6:35:57
7.	Geoff Hook	6:37:10
8.	Greg Wishart	7:16:41
9.	Kristian Bardsley	7:29:02

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

It was 5.30 am and quite cold when I was rudely awoken by the alarm. Gathering in the early morning atmosphere at Frankston’s Davey Street corner, the incomparable Max Gibbs made an appearance and announced that he was unable to run due to his presence being required at his sister’s wedding a little later in the day. As Max has a habit of paying his five dollar entry fee in as many small coins as possible, I was spared the agony of yet another envelope full of two cent pieces!

Local resident, Peter Armistead, fresh from his excellent third position at last November’s Colac Six Day Race, was our “guest starter” and his mumbled utterance of the word “GO” saw nine of us hit the road in anticipation of a warm sweaty day with 24 degrees and sunny skies the forecast.

The Frankston to Portsea course never seems to produce fast times. In my 14 year association with this event, I have come to the mind numbing conclusion that the constant undulations in the first half, although not difficult in the early stages, finally take their toll as the kilometres click by.

Mike Wheatley and Mal Grimmett pulled away from the rest of the field and stayed together all the way to Portsea. With given names of Mike and Mal, they were soon dubbed the “Leyland Brothers” ..they didn’t quite “travel all over the countryside”, but they sure did travel all they way down the Mornington Peninsula at a much more swift speed than the rest of us. A tie for first place meant sharing the traditional bottle of wine. Mike claimed that as Mal was a non drinker, he would be happy to consume the contents and let Mal have the empty bottle!

This course dishes up a bit of everything and at around 18km, the thump, thump, thump of that horrible repetitive noise that teenagers loosely call music was echoing across the paddocks from an old, run down looking abode with a huge sign displaying the words “Santa’s Tree Farm”. Santa had obviously gone to the North Pole for the day and left three punk like kids alone to terrorise the local area. Running past the Dromana Sunday Market provided the interesting spectacle of highly frenzied individuals obsessed with searching for that imaginary sense of inner satisfaction that can only be achieved by thinking that they have scored a bargain. The sight of these people doing such a thing voluntarily is one I will not forget for a long time.

The journey continued through the bayside towns all the way to the bottom of the Peninsula. Rob McConnochie held off David Spencer in a sprint finish for third place. Rob’s presence maintained the South African flavour that has permeated this run over the last four years, he even had a crew of expatriates at the finish cheering him on. Geoff Hook and Peter Gray also provided a close finish with barely a minute between them. Geoff, wearing long red socks and a fluorescent yellow t-shirt looked as if he was on his way to the annual “Worst Dressed Awards”, in fact, if he had managed to climb up a tree, he would have looked like an overgrown rosella.

One by one, runners slowly arrived at the finish line at the gates of the old Portsea Army Camp to be met by Ross Shilston. Ross was one of the inaugural runners of this course back in 1973. These days, Ross occupies his weekends as a keen fan of both rugby league and fine arts. A diverse combination to say the least.

At the rear of the field, but not giving in, was Kristian Bardsley. If that name sounds familiar to you, then you are obviously a fan of the Australian Football League. Kristian played 60 games with Saint Kilda during the 90’s and has the distinction of having been knocked unconscious by the legendary Gary Ablett. A friend of David Spencer’s, Kristian had managed a “couple of 20km runs” as preparation. With little other distance running experience, he slugged it out to the finish alongside the biggest group of supporters I have ever seen. I think Kristian had brought along every living relative he could find and all their neighbours as well. They pulled out blankets and baskets of food at the finish and soon had a set up that strongly resembled the Teddy Bear’s Picnic.

As is the tradition, all finishers received their blocks of chocolate and the more recently introduced “commemorative mirror”. It was the purchase of these mirrors that provided me with an incident I shall never forget. I have to admit to being a cheapskate by visiting the “$2 Shop” during the previous week to stock up on mirrors. I don’t mean any disrespect to this particular chain of stores but they do seem to attract a certain breed of customers. There I was standing in the check out queue with my arms laden with mirrors while a pimply faced teenager who had obviously invested heavily in a large container of hair gel, took forever to change the roll of paper in the cash register. Standing in front of me in the queue was a flannelette and moccasin clad woman with at least six hyperactive kids pulling on her legs and grizzling loudly. Finally she lost all patience and let fly at her brood, belting them over their heads and screaming for all to hear .. “IF YOU’SE LOT DON’T BEHAVE, THEN NONE OF YOU’SE AINT BE COMMIN’ BACK ‘ERE NO MORE”. This was an assault on the English language that matched the one she was inflicting on her unfortunate little tykes. The check out attendant stepped back in fright while I dived behind the counter, fearful that my head may be the next in line to make contact with her furious thrashing. When things had finally calmed down, I gave this irksome lot a fleeting glance and hastened my departure.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

7th April 2002

1.	Max Gibbs	4:23:09
2.	Peter Cooper	4:46:11
3.	David Spencer	5:06:34
4.	Jeremy Spencer	6:01:40
5.	Peter Gray	6:45:56

Chad Holmes DNF 40km
Graham Ives DNF 14km

Race Report  by Kevin Cassidy

30 years on and the Frankston to Portsea event continues. The 30th anniversary even managed to attract some press coverage thanks to Mike Ryan of the Frankston Independent News. For such a “momentous” occasion, we thought that having a “dignitary” present at the start would be appropriate!..an obvious choice was Ross Shilston, who was one of the original runners back in 1973, but poor old Rossco was so choked up with the flu that he could not get out of bed. I paid him a visit later in the day and he looked like he had one foot in the grave!

Conditions were perfect for the 7 runners who toed the line and the view across Port Phillip Bay was just beautiful as the sun broke through to cast rays of light upon the calm smooth waters broken only by the occasional fishing boats heading out from the marina.

The race had not even started when I was presented with my first hurdle…Last year I reported that Max Gibbs had paid his entry fee in 5 cent coins which was a “slight” exaggeration on my part. Max, however, has a long memory and this year he had a rather cheeky smile on his face when handed me a bag of coins!..Yes, that’s right, a large bag of 5 cent coins!! And, no, I am not exaggerating this time!! Max had gained his revenge!!

At 7am, I sent the runners on their way only to be left behind with a few more incidents. A few crew people and myself were kept entertained by the antics of one of the local drunks in the car park; Peter Armistead tells me that this guy is well known in the area. Norma Gray [Peter’s mum] then had trouble trying to insert the ignition key into Peters car…This was no easy task on an older “unique” vehicle. After much panic we managed to get things going.

With the runners now well and truly on their way, I jumped into my Ute and roared off down the road to catch up with proceedings. The Rolf Harris rendition of “Two Little Boys” was playing on the radio when I decided to continue through a set of traffic lights as they turned yellow…Unfortunately, I should have looked in my rear view mirror beforehand. Yes, the police were right behind me and I am now poorer to the tune of $165.

Anyway, after all the goings on, I finally caught up to the race and Max had well and truly established a good lead. Graham Ives, a new arrival in Australia, was forced out at 14km and it was only then that I learnt from his good wife that he is currently undergoing chemotherapy!! Heavens above, Graham, just being on the starting line earns you a courage award of the highest degree. I hope you’ll be back next year fit and well.

Chad Holmes and Jeremy Spencer deserve a special mention due to the fact that both had never before run beyond 20km. Chad was enjoying his run before being forced out with some rather bad blisters while Jeremy went out hard to challenge Max before fading over the last 20 km. It is always great to see new faces and both these guys sounded keen to return next year.

Jeremy may not have crossed the line first but he sure did win the prize for the biggest crew. The “Jeremy Roadshow” consisted of a van and 4 crew with bikes, then with 15km to go, the roadshow got bigger. Jeremy’s parents just happen to live right on the highway and they joined in along with their Dalmatian dog who happily let Jeremy take his leash and lead him all the way to the finish.

Both David and Peter Cooper ran good steady races but were unable to catch the incomparable Max “Mad Max” Gibbs who, in his 9th appearance here, powered his way to the finish. Max actually missed this event a few years ago due to the date clashing with his wedding anniversary and Allison [Max’s better half] tells me that he is still reminding her about it!!. The evergreen Peter Gray enjoyed a comfortable run as a lead up to the 24 hour event at Coburg next weekend.

As has been the tradition for 30 years, all finishers received their blocks of Cadbury chocolate with a bottle of wine going to the winner…When I realised that Max was going to win, I made sure I got the cheapest nastiest wine I could find! I even paid for it with his bag of 5 cent coins.

With the race complete, a huge crowd was gathering on the Portsea Road near the finish for the auction of a modest timber home on the elite Portsea cliff top…It sold for a mere 6.7 million dollars!!!!!

The Frankston to Portsea run is as varied and interesting a road race as you can get and has seen a lot of history in its 30 years. I have had a number of people say to me over the years that this is an event that every runner should do at least once. It is small and low key but has a culture and tradition that is very much its own and maintains its own unique standing amongst the Australian Ultra Community.

A collection of photos will appear in the June edition of “Ultramag”.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

1st April 2001

1.	Willem Boshoff	4:50:38
2.	Peter Cooper	5:02:54
3.	Max Gibbs	5:10:15
4.	Geoff Hook	6:20:51
5.	Kevin Mansell	6:46:32
6.	Greg Wishart	6:50:50

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

Edition 29 of Australia’s longest running ultra saw the tradition continue to build upon the rich and unique history of this “one of a kind” event. Six runners and a host of supporters gathered at the Davey Street corner in conditions that were a tad hazy but ideal for running. I had received a number of phone calls in the days before the race that had me thinking that maybe a field of 10 or more was possible, but on race day, a normal sized field of 6 toed the starting line. This event goes all the way back to 1973 but its true beginning can be traced back to the 60s when coach Percy Cerrutty would drive his squad of world class athletes to Frankston and make them run back to his Portsea camp. Amongst these athletes was Herb Elliott, the greatest Mile/1500 metre runner the world has ever seen and 1964 Olympic Champion.

It was a privilege to have Kevin Mansell in the field. Kevin is a 5 time Sydney-Melbourne finisher and one of the few people in the world to have run 1,000km in less than 6 days. Kevin earned legend status when he dueled with Yiannis Kouros for several days during the 1989 Sydney-Melbourne race before finishing in third position. Kevin was being looked after by his better half, Gwenda. Also on the comeback trail was Greg Wishart, Greg was a regular on the ultra scene but we had not seen him for almost 7 years. Some things just never change, Greg had a crew ready and waiting to assist him but Greg himself still hadn’t shown up as I was about to say “GO”……….With only seconds to spare, a car flew around the corner on 2 wheels before screeching to a halt in a cloud of dust……..Yes, Greg had arrived and the race was under way.

I should point out, at this stage, that while all the other runners paid their 5 dollar entry fee with a single 5 dollar note, Max “Mad Max” Gibbs showed what a cheapskate he is by handing me a bag of 5 cent and 10 cent coins!!
It was Max who took the early lead and was soon a long way in front with Peter and Willem cruising along behind. Peter was inspired to run this event after crewing for Rob Davis last year. Rob returned the favour by looking after Peter this time around. Meanwhile, the prize for the biggest crew was firmly in the grasp of Willem Boshoff. Willem is a newly arrived citizen from South Africa and had a huge contingent of South Africans supporting him.

Max was still leading when I caught up with his good wife, Allison, at the Rosebud Jetty….”How’s Max” I asked…..”He’s buggered” replied Allison, not mincing her words. At this stage, I was just hoping that the runners would get safely through the busy traffic from the Sunday “outdoor market” in the Rosebud Village Green…….I had no idea that the market was on, normally this section is almost deserted on a Sunday morning.

Max lead through the marathon point at 42 km before hitting the wall which saw Willem and Peter come through in the later stages. Last year saw victory go to two newly arrived South Africans in Rob McConnochie and Richard Jourdain, this year was to be a South African victory again as Willem cruised to the finish……..I guess we can now claim an international flavour to this race along with all its other traditions!!!!!!

With Willem, Peter and Max all finished, myself and our two roving course officials in Ross Shilston and Sandra Stewart went out in search of our remaining three runners. The incomparable Geoff Hook was next followed closely by Kevin and Greg.
Willem received a bottle of red wine as the winner while all finishers received the traditional block of plain Cadbury’s chocolate and a souvenir mirror…..It seemed somewhat appropriate that the date was April Fools day.

The arrival, in Melbourne, of several competent athletes from South Africa has seen Geoff Hook, in his capacity as Secretary of the South Melbourne Athletic Club, eagerly trying to get their signatures on paper for the upcoming cross country season
With another Frankston to Portsea event completed and runners on their way home, Sandra [course official] decide to add some excitement to things by taking a very nasty fall over a tree root that saw her rip a hole in her jeans and take some serious layers of skin off her knee, hip and both hands which left her dripping blood in all directions. By the time I had put my first aid skills to use and bandaged up all her wounds, she was looking very much like an Egyptian mummy!!!!!!! Not so lucky, however, was her mobile phone that died a horrible death when it crashed into the asphalt and ended up in 1,000 pieces !!!!!!!

We have seen many bigger and fancier ultras in Australia but none of them have stood the test of time the way that the Frankston to Portsea has. I have no doubt that when I am dead and gone, the April tradition of a handful of runners enjoying the journey down the peninsula will be ongoing. Almost everyone who has ever been anyone in the ultra world has graced this event at one time or another and it is an event that every ultra runner must do at least once in their lifetimes.

The next edition of “Ultramag” will contain a history of results going right back to 1973, this history is still being researched by Max Gibbs. Also in Ultramag will be a collection of photo’s from this years event.
Meanwhile the webpage is at www.coolrunning.com.au/ultra/frankston/index.shtml

Sunday April 7th is the intended date for 2002………Just roll up at the corner of Davey Street and the Nepean Highway in Frankston at 7am to enjoy a great run and be a part of the ongoing traditions of an event that is an icon on the Australian ultra calendar.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

7th April 2000

1.	Rob McConnochie	4:21:10
1.	Richard Jourdain	4:21:10
2.	Max Gibbs	4:42:35
3.	Kelvin Marshall	5:06:51
4.	Geoff Hook	5:59:07

Rob Davis D.N.F. 42km

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

Ideal conditions greeted the 6 hardy souls that fronted up at Frankston’s Davey Street corner and it was a privilege to welcome two fine South African athletes [now living in Australia] in Rob McConnochie and Richard Jourdain who were using this event as training for the Comrades Marathon. The low key nature of this event always guarantees that several other local runners are on the start line to run the first 10 or 20km as their Sunday training run.

As I had the role of being “Race Director” for this self help, go-as-you-please event, I thought I should at least look the part by having the obligatory clipboard under my left arm and stopwatch around the neck as I mentioned the word “GO”.

For the first 25km Kelvin led the field narrowly from Max while Rob and Richard, running together, settled in about a kilometre back. Also cruising and enjoying himself was Rob Davis while the incomparable Geoff Hook was bringing up the rear many kilometres behind. In fact, Hookie got so far behind that keeping track of him required some rather lengthy drives. I may have to hit him with an “Excess fuel bill”!!!

Up front, Kelvin was running without assistance so I pulled up beside him at 28km and offered him some water that I had for any emergency use, Kelvin scoffed down a 24 ounce bottle in a flash and admitted that 28km without a drink was going to catch up with him. I did my best to keep up the water supply to Kelvin but I was unable to be with him for the entire time, Max soon took over the lead and looked unbeatable before he too hit the wall due, by his own admission, to a lack of training. The South African duo of Rob and Richard soon cruised to the lead to finish together in an excellent time before running back to Sorrento to make up the 60km that they had planned to do for the day.

Meanwhile, back up the highway, Kelvin was walking and managed to keep a few locals amused when he headed into the Sorrento shopping centre and scoffed down a large bottle of coke at the local grocery store before completing the final 5km. Rob Davis, never having attempted to run this far before, decided to call it a day at the Rye Pier [42km]. It was great to see you running Rob and I hope you will be back again next year.

After what seemed an eternity, Geoff Hook came into view and what a sight he was with a pair of secateurs in one hand and a large garden rake in the other, he looked like he had just completed a TV segment on “Burkes Backyard!!” He explained that, as he was running past the manicured gardens of the million dollar Portsea homes, he found these gardening implements on the road side and intended to put them to good use.

In keeping with tradition, all finishers received their block of Cadbury chocolate as well as a newly initiated award of a mirror with “Frankston to Portsea Finisher” printed on the top. I thought the mirrors were very appropriate because any one who would want to run all the way down the peninsula to Portsea needs to have a good hard look at themselves !!!! The story does not end there, I was in my local Two Dollar Shop the previous day buying their complete stock of mirrors when the checkout girl asked “Pardon me for prying, but what are you going to do with so many mirrors?”, “Stick them on my bedroom ceiling” I said straight faced.

The 29th Frankston to Portsea event has a likely date of Sunday 8th April 2001 with a 7am start at the Davey st./Nepean Highway corner. Everyone is welcome to experience the various traditions and unique atmosphere that encompasses this April tradition on the Mornington Peninsula. No pre-entries are needed, just turn up on the day and etch your name into the Frankston to Portsea history by having a run.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

18th April 1999

1.	Tracey Macaw [F]	4:15:00
2.	Max Gibbs	4:24:28
3.	John Harper	5:00:27
4.	Geoff Hook	5:36:53
5.	Geoff Rodgers	5:42:00

Kevin Cassidy D.N.F.
Peter Nelson D.N.F.

Continuing The Tradition – Contributed by: Kevin Cassidy

This low key, self help, do as you please run got underway in ideal running conditions and boasting a bigger field than we have seen for several years with a grand total of seven runners in the 27th edition of this event since 1973. Max Gibbs had things looking half professional when the normal one page of instructions had been increased to three along with a 150% increase in the entry fee [from two dollars up to five] “That’s for a bottle of wine for the winner” he laughed.

At approximately 7am our illustrious race director, Ross Shilston, said GO and we shuffled off from the Davey Street corner in the direction of Portsea to the applause of our send off committee which consisted of the old sea dog himself, Peter Armistead. It was a privilege to have 22 year old Tracey Macaw [nee Newton] amongst the field, the pint sized Tracey is a real pocket rocket having won the 1997 Melbourne Marathon as well as representing Australia. Also joining the runners were a group of youngsters out for a training run, they promised to stick with the field but quickly took off like rabbits and we didn’t see them again until they came back the other way after 10 km or so.

I was moving along ok during the early stages of what is my favourite ultra and I was taking in all the scenery as the autumn leaves scattered across the highway, there were loads of cyclists out training and a continuing stream of restored vintage cars were parading back and forth along the road. After enjoying the undulations during the first half, the course takes us onto the beach road and we get to admire the bay for the rest of the course, it was at this stage that Ross came driving passed and assured me that I could now swim to the finish if I was so inclined.
I plodded on through 30km and I was fast realising that the niggling aches and pains that have plagued me over the last 18 months were only getting worse and worse. My aching back soon reduced me to a hunched over stagger and John Harper came charging by me looking confident and strong. I finally dragged myself to the 42km point at the Dundas Street intersection at Rye and hobbled across the highway into the Mobil service station where I grabbed a Diet Coke and slumped across a pine log fence. I finally had to face the fact that, after 14 years of ultras, my body just can’t do these things any more. As the Sunday morning traffic drove obliviously by, I sat for about 10 minutes sucking on my drink and holding back the tears as I cast my mind back over all the highs and lows since 1985. I guess it all ends right here in the gutter of the Nepean Highway, I think my future involvement with ultras will be reduced to handing out drinks and checking stop watches and if I am ever asked “Aren’t you Kevin Cassidy?” I will be able to reply “No, but I used to be”

With the race still in Progress, I quickly came to my senses and composed myself. With the finish being at the gates to a national park it is always difficult to negotiate the last few hundred metres, this requires tired runners to get through large groups of tourists who wander about aimlessly with vacant expressions on their faces.

As this is a self help event, it always results in a number of amusing personal incidents and each runner that crossed the line had a funny story to tell. Although not finishing, Peter Nelson arrived at the gates in the local bus and reported that he DID manage to stay on course this year. Tracey recorded a stunning win over we mere males but it was not without incident, Cynthia [Tracey’s mum] was walking with Tracey giving her a drink when kind and considerate Peter [Cynthia’s brother] drove up to them so Cynthia didn’t have to walk back to the car and, in doing so, ran over Cynthia’s freshly poured cup of tea!

Max was only 500 metres from the finish when a lost motor cyclist pulled up beside him to ask for directions. With a full faced helmet on, all poor Max could hear was muffle muffle muffle hhmmffff hhmmffff !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

John Harper was a man on a mission and had gone out the previous night to plant drink bottles along the course, I guess it is lucky for John that this race doesn’t coincide with “Clean up Australia day”. Geoff Hook was happily plodding down the highway when race director Ross drove by to see how he was going. Grasping the opportunity, Hookie conned Ross into lending him 10 dollars which had poor Ross worrying because they were approaching a winery. Ross later claimed that Hookie paid him back with a counterfeit note.

With first timer, Geoff Rodgers, approaching the finish, the best story was about to be told. Geoff had taken a wrong turn at 20km and ended up on the Peninsula Freeway. Pretty soon the police, with sirens blaring, had pulled up and Geoff, oblivious to his wrong turn, insisted that there were several runners up ahead. The police then took off after the “other runners” and Geoff continued along the freeway before rejoining the correct course at the next ramp. Geoff remained ignorant of his wrong turn until Ross drove up to him in Dromana and listened to his “police story”. I had visions of the police spending all day roaring up and down the freeway in fruitless search for the “other runners”.

With another Frankston to Portsea event completed, the Portsea area was becoming quite crowded as people were arriving to watch the start of the Melbourne to Osaka [Japan] yacht race.

Next years event has a tentative date of Sunday the 9th April

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

5th April 1998

1.	Max Gibbs	4:23:32
2.	Kevin Cassidy	5:25:59

Gary Meyer D.N.F.

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Tough day at the office chasing Max, to no avail.

I blew up around the 40km mark but struggled home regardless.

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

6th April 1997

1.	Max Gibbs	4:20:05
2.	Kevin Cassidy	4:32:12
3.	Graham Bonnett	4:48:15
4.	John Harper	5:12:55
5.	Ron Coleman	5:49:58

Peter Nelson DNF

THE REAL STORY by Kevin Cassidy

Perhaps it would be best if I started by explaining the traditions of this low key but long standing race.

• Runners gather at Davey St. Frankston, and pay $2 for the privilege of making their own way down to the Portsea gates.
• For your $2 you get a block of chocolate and a small certificate for finishing.
• The winner receives a cheap bottle of wine.

On race morning it was obvious that it was going to be a tough day as we six runners faced a howling head wind from go to whoa. I was fortunate to have Peter Armistead looking after me and he was a tower of strength, particularly towards the end when my body was starting to die.

I do, however, have to report that Ross Shilston’s first effort as Race Director will go down in history. As Peter quite bluntly said “It was pathetic”.

Ross’s only concern at the start was in collecting the money then quickly saying “GO” before he disappeared to the comforts of his home for breakfast whilst we poor runners fought the ferocious head wind and the stop and start drizzle. The race was more than half over when he finally appeared but he still would not venture out from his warm and comfortable car. Meanwhile we poor runners are running two steps forward and one step back as we fight the wind until finally reaching Portsea where Ross has actually climbed out of his car into the atmosphere of the real world at the relatively well sheltered Portsea gates to take our times. Ross then had the audacity to file a race report that described the wind as a “Gentle breeze”.

The blocks of chocolate that we received had to be seen to be believed. Fair dinkum, I’ve seen them at my local 7-Eleven for 20 cents, it was a rort that would have made Senator Mal Colston proud, in fact the rumour has it that Ross has put in a $2,000 travel claim to the Peninsula Road Runners Club.

Max Gibbs put up a mighty effort to win in such tough conditions but he never got to see his bottle of wine, “He can buy himself one at the Koonya pub on the way home” was Ross’s reply to my query, and as for certificates, well Ross has followed the lead of our former health minister “Marie Tehan” and claimed that some one must have put them in the wrong pigeon hole as they seem to have vanished. To repeat Peter Armistead’s comment “It was a pathetic effort.”

Peter tells me that Ross has even deserted him on the traditional 4 o’clock Friday morning runs, this tradition goes right back to the time when Jesus Christ played at full back for Jerusalem in the Roman Empire Football League.

We may just have to have a whip-round to buy Ross a mirror so that he can take a good hard look at himself.