Hot And Sweaty Seems To Work

For somebody who claims that she can't get up in the morning L is doing incredibly well this week. She was up again today at just after six. Even Doggo seems to have got used to it, he was up and ready too. They seem to be having quite a bonding session on these mornings. I've still not remembered to move my alarm to 5.30.

In the car today as it's my turn to the do the pub run. Due to the road restrictions on the A52 I was again far too early for work. It's typical that as I get chance to have a lie in; L has to get up early to exercise.

Over the last few weeks all the media has been salivating over a Man U v Chelsea European Final and what I think is really funny is that neither of them got there. Hilarious. Will the tedious, unimaginative Liverpool overcome the skilful exciting Milan in the final? Probably.

Not that I'll be watching. I can proudly say that I have not watched a Champions League or a Premier League game for at least five years.

Cottage pie for lunch and a rather nice milk stout from Full Mash. I'm sure the alcohol went straight to my shoulder. It feels much better now. L says she'll have to try some on her sore behind. Sounds good fun.

There's another Triathlon to do. In July there's one at Long Eaton Leisure Centre. The bike course goes over the roads that I cycle to work along, so I've got no excuse for not doing a good time. If I do the event.

I decide that biking and squash may not be good for my shoulder but running would probably now be ok. So I get home and take Doggo out for a run. We do our usual route - pond and park plus a little bit extra for good measure. Goes well. Apart from Doggo nearly losing his ears in the spokes of someone's bike. He really must look where he's going.

Then as I'm feeling fit I do a quick 5-mile blast on the turbo trainer accompanied by the sounds of new Black Rebel Motorcycle Club album.

I'm powering along at 20mph when L gets home. Daughter's at 'Battle of the bands' tonight so L offers a trip to the pub. However once I get off the bike and I'm standing there in my cycling shorts, dripping wet with sweat, I kind of forget about the pub. L doesn't seem too repelled by my hot wet sweaty look, in fact quite the opposite and it doesn’t take much to get her to venture inside my shorts.

After a very thorough warm-down, L cooks up our favourite delicacy, Spam curry and we crack open a bottle of Rioja.

L goes off to bed around eleven but I decide to watch a bit of the election night special. Oddly I'm quite into these things. Tonight though, absolutely nothing spectacular happens, in fact hardly anything happens at all. Zzzzzzzzz.