What is it with the Italians?

They’re completely obsessed with food, drink and rummpy pump!

Sorry about the silence chaps but don't think for one minute that I've been idle. Life for any Olympic hopeful is hectic enough but for this kiddie with my substantial and ever growing fan base it is manic, I can tell you.

Last thing you heard I was popping off for a spot of warm weather training.

Big mistake. On two counts.

Mistake number 1 was even thinking that I could focus on my Olympic 2012 schedule with the distractions posed by the Ron family in tow. The Half Share in the House had insisted on coming along and bringing with her the three Cash Drainers - Haille-Minogue, The Droog and The Sod and so we pitched up en masse in the rather charming town of Bergamo. Of course what was once a pretty, quiet, charming, mediaeval walled town far enough away from Milan to be worth visiting has now ended up overwhelmed with Ryanair punters. I haven't got a problem with Ryanair per se - if you like flying with the airborne equivalent of the Reliant Robin then that's your choice - but it was fine when it was simply the preserve of us weekend trippers from the Home Counties. We could pretend that, ‘of course, we wouldn’t normally be seen dead on a budget airline, but it’s fine for the third half-term break of the year.’ Now, for God's sake, they’ve started flying them in from the north! Can you believe that they now operate flights from Durham, from Hull, from Leeds and ... wait for it ... from Doncaster! Now forgive me for sounding cruel but should we really be inflicting the residents of Doncaster on any location more than ten miles from that miserable place? Doncaster – where the phone book has only one page and the MacDonald’s only one arch.

Anyway, to Bergamo for warm weather training. Well, it was warm and perfect for running. Did I run? Never got the pumps out of the case chaps! The pasta, pizza, polenta and Peroni were simply too tempting! To cut a long story short I ended up spending four days hydrating and carb loading leaving very little time for anything other than belching and breaking wind. The bottom line my friends is that I arrived back in the UK on Friday weighing a full 8 pounds more than when I left for the pesky place.

Mind you I did pick up a couple of tips on dealing with fans whilst I was out there. Obviously very few Italians had heard of me - although my famous Ron wink did elicit a couple of responses. To be honest I thought a couple of the fillies I winked at in Luigi's pizza parlour could have been a little more respectful to a visitor to their country. You'd have thought I was the first guy they'd seen enjoying pizza in Lycra. And don't tell me they haven't seen that single finger press-up routine before!

Anyway I think I’ve found out how to impress these Latin girlies. And, to be honest, it takes very little! Back here, of course, when Ron wants to impress the Half Share and drop a little evening post-kebab hint, I know exactly what is required. A little glass of sherry for her, a bit of love food - she normally likes the green chillies - a little hug, a compliment here or there - "new duffle coat dear?", that little Ron wink and a hint of a smile before smooching into romance mode. The Italians? Well as far as I could see, you simply show up naked with a beer in one hand, a slice of Margherita in the other and a sprig of Oregano between your teeth!

So you can forget that warm weather training lark - from now on it's Hastings for me.

Back in Blighty on Friday I had the little matter of a visit to the local Constabulary to sign some bit of paper. They did question me about the black eye I was sporting - and the oaf behind the desk mumbled something about receiving a call from some uniform in Italy about a pizza parlour incident. This delayed me so much I missed out on my pre-Sunday race shake down. And that - more than my Italian adventure - I think contributed to a bit of a struggle down in deepest Sussex on Sunday morning.

I toddled off for a bash at the Barns Green half marathon - probably my last opportunity to hit that sub 2 hour time before Christmas. It was great to see such a turnout to greet me. In fact I was slightly overwhelmed - they were such a modest crowd too. Not one of those I approached took up my offer of an autograph or a photo - how thoughtful of them not wanting to disrupt my pre-race routine of anal squeezes and groin crunches! But don't be so bashful chums - I'm fully aware of my responsibilities as a celebrity and I'm only too pleased to oblige. So if you do see me, come up and I'll give you one of those famous Ron winks and my unique Ron-grip handshake!

My God was it warm though on Sunday. At 20 plus degrees I realised I’d wasted the best part of a month’s wages on my trip to Italy. I could have stayed in flippin’ Horsham! Anyway, I think a fourth half marathon in five weeks finally took its toll on the Ron body. I'd discounted the extra weight and gut full of pasta and beer - after all you can't run a Formula 1 car on paraffin can you? But boy did I struggle! The prospect of a sub 2 hour time disappeared after about 400 yards as I struggled to find any rhythm at all. I managed to make an effort though and up to around 10 miles I was on a steady 9.30 pace - which put me on target for a 2 hour 5 minutes finish. To be honest I would have been happy with 5 seconds less than this - my time last year at BG was 2.04.57 - but at 11 miles I blew up and hit a brick wall and that last mile took me 12 sodding minutes!

I eventually wobbled over the line in an exhausting 2.07. To be honest I wasn't very good company and I declined the opportunity to attend the prize giving - I didn't feel in the mood for any kind of token trophy just for turning up and helping to put 500 extra runners on the start line.

On reflection though, it was my fourth half in five weeks - and my time was my quickest half of the autumn season. So maybe I should be satisfied. The Mall in 2012 still beckons!

The problem is that I'm desperate to prove to the selectors that my place in the 2012 squad is one awarded on merit not simply on the back of a wave of popular support. I'm no Ashley Cole. I’m no Matthew Kelly. I've got real talent as well as mass popular support.

Anyway the exertions of Sunday sent me to my sick bed with some rather grumpy memories of Barns Green for a day or so - which is a shame because the event is a top day out - a huge field, good support and a cracking Burger Van.

This weekend I've been invited to join the Nice Work crew - a kind of celebrity endorsement if you like - as they take a bunch of over-the-hill old soaks to a race in France. The problem is that we're staying in a rather agreeable place called Montreuil-sur-Mer - which, apart from anything else, is just a shed load of calories opportunities. On Sunday we travel to the small village of Saint Hilaire Cottes to take part in the 33rd running of the Circuit Pedestre. The Nice Work chaps had a bit of a set back when their original race in Etaples was called off last week, so your man here used his extensive contacts to grab hold of the mayor of Saint Hilaire - Monsieur Roseau - who fixed us some entries for this cracking little race.

I'll let you know how we get on.

Keep on tapering.

Ron.