An Innocent Bath

Alarm goes. Legs feel ok, so bike it is. I grab a warm-up and get my kit on.

The ride in goes well, as its half term all the tanks are currently off the road, which makes it infinitely more pleasant. Then again anything would have felt good after the hell of Ticknall. It was a tad nippy, thicker gloves are becoming number one priority I think. I refuel at work. I have some porridge, one of those exorbitantly expensive Dorset cereal bars and a glass of mango.

L says she can't bring herself to type good morning which isn't a good start. I tentatively enquire as to how it went with Doggo this morning and which lamppost she's strapped him to, just in case I need to go and rescue him. Turns out she did bring him home and now she's left him with Daughter and the TV. Not sure if that's meant as a punishment for Doggo or for Daughter?

She says she's cheering herself up with one of her Death Proof CDs of which she has two, thanks to the Royal Mail. They seem to have lost multiple things during the postal strike and now replacements have been ordered, things are turning up in pairs. All the retailers will put claims in with the post office, so it's going to cost the Post Office a fortune and presumably next years pay rise. I can feel another strike coming on. She describes the CD as very jolly. Which could mean almost anything. She describes Ian Curtis is jolly.

L's not working late tonight and should be home when I roll in, in my lycra. So I could head straight home and let her help me with a warm-down. Which is just the inspiration I need to set a new PB. Problem is I’d have to skip my swim as she’s going out again at 7.30 to yoga. Life is just one big decision.

L says I must swim; I must think 'Vitruvian'. Hmmm. I’d rather not think ‘1.9km swim’ thank you very much. My adventurous streak is still up in those foggy Ticknall hills, still pedalling away.

So I cycle to the pool and then realise I’ve left my lock at work. Bugger. I cycle to home and borrow Son’s, then I cycle back to the pool. I have a good swim, it’s not too busy, three people in my lane. They are psychos but nothing compared with those hardened types at Ticknall, I would hate to end up in the pool with them.

L goes to yoga and I drop Daughter there on my way to dog training. When L’s finished they’re going to do a gym session. Quite a pair of fitness freaks.

There are only four of us at the 'train your own' session. Excellent, lots of time on the equipment. Doggo downs tools after half an hour or so, totally creased.

L proposes bath and wine, rather than food. I don’t have a problem with that. Almost as soon as we've settled in the bath, Daughter bangs on the door and tells me not to blog this. Blog what? We're only having a bath. We may have misbehaved in the bath in the past but we were young and impetuous then. Anyhow it's much more fun in the shower.

We retire to the bedroom. L is very unbloggable. Two glasses of Rose.