Friday 20 April 2007

What's That Coming Over The Hill ?

Cycled in again because L needs the car tonight but my legs really didn't want to. I was that stiff I could barely get out of bed. Not sure the ageing limbs are up to all this biking. A shower loosened them up a little. I put the roof rack on car so that L can pick me up after the match tonight.

Survive the ride, although I think my legs are still out there somewhere, pedalling on their own.

L and I debate the great birthday disaster on email and things appear to be taking a turn for the even worse. I've offered a 16-mile cake run as a replacement but L feels that anything other than a Tri or Duathlon would be a waste of training, so emerging as clear favourite is the Skipton Triathlon, swim and all. Oh dear. Nice place Skipton, not that I'll be in any fit state to notice. L's even been and timed her 400m swim this morning. The juggernaut is starting to move.

Oh God, what would I put for my predicted time? 9.00? 9.30?

I try and put her off by mentioning that it's a four-lap run course. She hates doing laps. It’s also 100 miles to Skipton but I suppose it would only take us an hour and three quarters at that time of day and it would have taken us an hour to get to Coventry. Oh God I seem to be gradually talking myself into it! The juggernaut gathers momentum.

L says that she's game if I am. Think she means for the tri. Although we're not even sure there's a T-shirt. The possible lack of a T-shirt causes L to pause momentarily (although it's hard to tell on email) but then she says wouldn't wimp out of an event on that sort of technicality.

We even know a place in Idle near Bradford where they do a nice Sunday lunch.

For some reason that track by The Automatic starts running through my head. "What's that coming over the hill? Is it a monster?" No it's a juggernaut with Skipton Triathlon written in big letters down both sides.

Over lunch L gets us tickets to go see OMD. Daughter as well, although not sure she knows who they are but she's just desperate to do a gig. Any gig. It's been a long time since she saw 'Blue' apart from some Guides 'music' fest at the NEC. At least there shouldn’t be any beer throwing at the concert hall.

I bike to my parent's house and then we are treated to another magnificently dull Derby performance. It should have been to our advantage that Luton had to come and try and attack, as they had to win the game. Which must have been be an odd situation for another Mr Negative, their manager Kevin Blackwell.

Derby play with no midfield. Too many long balls. Wingers that don’t wing. Nyatanga returns from loan at Barnsley and goes straight into the defence; he bundles in a goal from a corner. Derby hang on for the 1-0 win against a dire Luton team, who as a result are relegated. So depressing is feels like a defeat.

L meets us in the pub afterwards; she's had a stressful evening getting the kids over to their Dads. She chills out with a couple of large glasses of red; I have two pints of Bass. Once I get her home, I profit from her drunken state by taking advantage of her against the wall. I daren't tell her that the sleep survey only runs Sunday-Wednesday and there's no box to tick tonight. We have another glass of wine before bed.

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