Ghost Walk

Squash tonight, so I rest my legs by taking the bus but the bus was just like the pool last night, packed to the rafters.

We aren't the only people who've been away in a cottage recently. A lad on the bus was telling his mate about his weekend. He'd been away with his girlfriend and her parents in a cottage somewhere. Her parents had left them alone one day and because his girlfriend was cold, aren't they always, he had done the manly thing and lit a fire in the fireplace. He got brownie points for this and filled with gratitude, she proceed to get amorous with him on the settee. Result, he thinks. It wasn't until they were 'busy' on the floor that they realised that something wasn't quite right and that the room was full of smoke. The fireplace was purely ornamental and the chimney had been blocked up. Apparently they didn't get left alone after that.

I get off the bus and decide to check out Derby's revamped Eagle Centre or 'Westfield', as they would like it to be known. It ended up as more of a ghost walk because on the way from the Market Square I had to walk through rows of empty shops where their occupants had abandoned ship to move into the new centre. I then walked through the ground floor of the new place and it was pretty much as expected. The usual big names with a few pseudo posh shops, places like The Pier that we already have in Nottingham. Which is one of those shops that people wander round on a Saturday morning but never actually buy anything. I didn't see anything that would entice me back, e.g. book shops, record shops, sports shops, walking gear shops, cycling shops etc. I shall check out the upper level another day.

First pub lunch for three weeks today. Cottage pie and something called Maximum Darkness from the Elland Brewery. I take a punt on it, hoping it is dark. It is; it's a rather nice oatmeal stout.

Squash and my opponent texts to ask whether he can borrow a banana. He says I can have it after afterwards. Hmmm. Tonight we play at Portland, someone has pinched our spot at Clifton, but it makes a refreshing change. Among other things the courts are green rather than yellow! We play four close games but I lose all of them, it's not one of my better days. I win the fifth game but he's pulled a calf muscle by then. We call it a night after that. Another advantage of Portland is that the pub is just across the road. Wentworth Bitter 4.0%.

Home to fish finger sandwiches, haddock no less, two glasses of wine and an early bed. Although L's not quite up for it, she looks well knackered. So too, surprisingly as he's done practically nothing, does Doggo.

I get a bit of reading in too. I'm actually on target to finish Graeme Obree before the end of the decade. So I'll soon be ready for my next assignment.