Hot Rails to Hell

Maybe a bit of a contradictory title for this post since I intend to end it on a high note but who really cares about this? On very short notice Sex Energy and I could persuade our daughter Fallen Angel to both stay at home instead of taking on a 49 kilometre drive to Stockerau, the area the Grand Meister himself and his wife did choose for a run in the heat in those forests (Auwälder) with several billions of every insect tribe you could imagine waiting out there to eat you alive.
Just about 20 brave ones did not care about the temperatures, the run featured a walkers trail even, yet that did not seem very much shorter than the running part. Did I mention the heat, meaning that it was - really - hot? Seems like the running (or walking) part was not very eventful, no song stop, no drink stop (now THAT would have been a tough one to carry drinks inside the forest all the way). Just no special memories.
Towards the end I had a nice chit chat with Slush Puppie and King Ralph about the art of rendering favours to one another and maybe to public servants in different countries.   Union Jack came back from his hiding in Angeles City (no, not Tinseltown, the other one) and received a mug and certificate for his 50th run and soon after at least I was happy that the aircondition in my automobile worked.

Amd now to something completely different:

What the?