Everything Is Well In The World Again

Wake up and scowl at Doggo, who didn't give me the 3am alarm call that I requested. It still tempting to jump L but as much as I wanted to, another task demanded my attention. Namely cycling to work and a spot of hill training.

I take the Ilkeston Route, which is the hilly way. It's not anything like Hathersage but it'll have to do. It just had to rain on me though, didn’t it. L doesn't believe me but it definitely rained. It may have only been drizzle but it was heavy drizzle.

Daughter has still not recovered from the battering that was Ponds Forge last night. L says she looked worse than the dog this morning and was half-asleep in front of the TV, although that may have had something to do with the tedium that is Big Brother.

At work, everything is well in the world again. We have a new kettle.

L's in optimistic mood, she's been to the gym and done a 10 minute run. She's now planning her assault on the Windermere Marathon.

Gripping stuff at Leeds United. Apparently a decision on who will be the new owners is imminent. Four bids on the table, so it looks like they got my bid. Just hope they don't rumble the fact that I’m not a South American dictator with loads of other people's money to squander.

The hours pass and the decision is still imminent. I check the online dictionary for the definition of imminent. Yep, that's what I though it meant. Bet they all went down the pub at lunchtime, sunk a few pints and forgot all about it, not realising that’s there’s about half a dozen people out here waiting for a decision. They'll be embarrassed when they get home and the wife asks them how the day went and they get the feeling they have forgotten to do something.

Eventually a decision, the new owner of Leeds United is... the same as the old one. What an anticlimax.

Bike home, hilly route again and go straight to the pool for a quick paddle. Goes ok, legs not bad but there's an old chap in pool who puts me to shame. He must be in his sixties, my sort of age, and he's doing the most perfect flip turns. I really must learn how to do them.

Get home and the next part of the schedule is to cut the lawn, which after all the rain we've had is about six foot high, and exercise doggo at the same time.

Then it's steak and more Tour de France. Thor Hushovd wins the stage despite having a trapped nerve in his back. L says she has patients who claim they can't get up the stairs with such an injury, let alone ride 200+ km on a bike and win.

L says it's now or never for sex, which I think was a romantic offer, so I escort her, and a couple of glasses of red wine, to the bedroom. She soon downs her wine, so I let her get started without me, while I chill out with my wine. Then she has the good grace to go on top.