CONFESSION TIME

Martyn's done something while under the influence and has yet to tell his wife, so he figured now's as good a time as any to come clean!

A few weeks ago I went to my club's Christmas do and, as is traditional, got hammered on budget wine. I arrived home in the small hours and, as is traditional, set about making toast using every utensil in the kitchen while making a racket loud enough to wake the neighbour's dog. I then tiptoed noisily to bed to a frosty atmosphere of silent disapproval from the long-suffering Mrs B, as is traditional.

The following morning I was idly scrolling through my phone while clutching my head and listening to the deafening sound of the kettle, when I noticed I'd received an unusual amount of emails in the small hours of Sunday morning. I immediately experienced an all-toofamiliar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I saw that I'd received three emails at 2:40am, 2:43am and 2:45am, the gist of which was to thank me for entering the 2023 Reykjavik Marathon.