Now that's what I call romantic

Back to training of a sort today. Despite a day off work today, we get up around 7am with the intention of doing the pond run with Doggo. However it is raining so we wimp out and instead the three of us head off in the car for a swim instead. Doggo guards the car for us.

The council claims that it saves money on heating etc by closing leisure centres over the extended Christmas. The pool we go to has been shut since Christmas Eve but today it is like a sauna inside, so no evidence of the heating being off then over Christmas!

The pool is even worse; it's tropical inside. I'm sure those palm trees weren't there before Christmas and the water is only a few degrees off boiling point. As I slip into the water I realise that I now know how a 'boil in the bag' meal feels. I think the heat has scared everyone else away and apart from L and me there is only one other person in the pool. That is until the psychos arrive. Even they complain about the heat, so it's not just me. I quickly bail out of the lane I was in as the three of them start to simulate race conditions. Anyone stood on the poolside was in danger of being washed away as the waves from their kick turns crash against the walls. Even if I never learn to swim properly I must at least learn to kick turn.

L does 46 lengths; I must have done 30 odd? Perhaps. I'm afraid I can't count and swim at the same time, too much to think about. Mr Infuriating and his book have at least made me realise what is wrong with my swimming. I'm not kicking enough. I'm like those folks in the pool on Friday, clinically dead in the legs. Need to get myself a float and do some kicking practice.

After we leave the pool we realise that the rain has stopped, so we go home and belatedly do the run. Round the pond and across the lake. Not a bad run. Maybe 4 miles. Regrettably today there is no jumping back into bed when we get home.

Now I'm annoyed with myself. Reflecting on the contents of that infuriating book I realise that I've had two free days and not done anything! I mean training wise. A golden opportunity wasted.

L saves the day by taking me on a 10-mile bike round the 'new' Nottingham cycle route and finally a chance to try out my new shoes and pedals.

The route is only 'new' in that someone has only just drawn it onto a map. Being a cycle route there is barely any tarmac involved, lots of gravel, narrow canal tow-paths with the risk of toppling into the water, low bridges, lots of dogs and pedestrians, plenty of potholes and acres of mud. Enough to put anyone off cycling for good, which presumably is their aim. Personally I'd rather take my chances on a busy road, a lot less nerve racking and safer too. Decide I need to get a mountain bike if I'm going to do it again.

It would however have been ideal for Doggo, so it's a shame we didn't take him. Problem is it would have been hard to get him to the start of the route without using the car and since we got a new car the bike racks don't fit the roof. So get home and order new attachments for the roof rack off the internet.

Later we go see 'Stranger Than Fiction'. It’s about a novelist (Emma Thompson) struggling to complete her latest book. As the finale to her book she is trying to find a way to kill off her main character, a chap called Harold Crick. The thing is he exists in real life and can hear her words being narrated to him. So he tries to find a way to change her ending and so save his life. It's all a little too far fetched for me and, I think, rather silly but L and Daughter seem to like it.

For the second time in a week we walk out on a good tune, this time Maximo Park's Gone Missing.

I do Spaghetti Bolognaise for all and then retire to bed with a good book. Ha ha well that bloody triathlon book. L cuddles up and crashes with her body draped around me. Very sexy. Sorry, she's told me to call it 'romantic'. Have come to the conclusion that the chap is a total nutter and I'm hoping he doesn’t complete his Ironman. He's doing Lake Placid Ironman for Christ's sake. What's wrong with one in the rain in good old Blighty.

Well after about two hours sleep for L and another quarter of the book for me I put the light out. L seems fairly awake and the 'romantic holding' turns into a rather wonderful shag. Now that's what I call 'romantic'.