However once I'm up it seems to have stopped, so I get going but before I've even go out of Wollaton the heavens open. I shelter under a tree to put my waterproof on. It's tempting to stay there indefinitely, but in the end I push on to work. By the time I get to Derby the sun is out again. Typical. I drape by wet lycra around the office, hoping no one will mind.
L, who's just back from her stroll with the dog, seems 'impressed' when I mention wet lycra. Thought I'd already been dealt with her. She retorts that I was dealt with last night but it didn't seem to have calmed me down this morning.
Her walk must have strenuous, as she left the dog panting under the table. I just hope she hasn't aggravated his broken paw.
Apparently we've been emailed photos from the wedding of the century that we went to, all 500 of them. That's a lot to trawl through; hopefully L will separate out the ones of the bridesmaids for me.
The start times are up for the Long Eaton Tri next weekend. I'm off at 10.12. Which sounds worryingly like I'm in with the tough nuts and the psychos.
Also up are the splits from the Mansfield Tri. Turns out the chap who was in my start group and beat me, did his swim in 6.56, so either he did less lengths than I did or he lied to get an earlier start time. My swim was 08.14 but that includes the run to transition. So not bad. The same chap beat me on the bike so he definitely lied about his start time. I'm happy with the rest of the stats. My run was excellent and I beat him by two minutes. 20:36 and that includes my awful bike transition. That time again makes me wonder why I wasn't quicker last night but then again you're never sure how well these courses are measured. Probably wasn't a full 5K at the triathlon.
Daughter is also off today, the school has dreamt up an imaginary sixth INSET Day. They go off for a gym session, so that Daughter can get induced into the city gyms. Unlike gyms outside the city, she isn't allowed to use them until she is fourteen. That's forward thinking councils for you.
There's a postal strike today, though I doubt anyone will notice, so they’re wasting their time.
L and Daughter and even Son, go to check out Shrek. I decline. I feel this could be a sequel too far, although L says it was good.
Cycle home and head to the pool for a refreshing swim. L doesn't join me; she's too busy panicking around the party boy. Though there's not a quiver from him.
L promises keema for tonight, Weight Watchers version, not slag. Something to warm me up after my cycle home. Sounds good, although I'm happy for her to warm me up using just her good self.
It's Son's Leavers ball tonight. We have cameras poised at the ready. We drive Son there, kitted out in his posh togs, but we come across his mates en route. So he jumps ship to walk with them. We do manage to get them to pose for a photo. It's quite bizarre seeing them wander down the street, like a group of extras from Reservoir Dogs.
One of his mates is equipped with a kilt; so he'll be popular with the girl's tonight. Most of the girl's arrive by stretch limo or fire engine.
L stays AF because she wants to be on hand to drag Son away from his girlies when it finishes at midnight. She's says she's looking forward to seeing him with a girl in a ball gown on either arm. If she sees that, she certainly hasn't been AF, she's had too many Leffes. In the end Son rings at eleven to say he's walking home. Car duties not required, we crack open some beer. Two Beers. Bishops Finger and a Pelforth Porter. Son polls in around midnight and L can finally relax.
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