Them Boots Aren't Made For Walking

Bus again. Apparently they call this tapering. I have my Duathlon on Sunday.

Today’s interesting conversation that I overheard on the bus concerns two male teenagers. One of them asked the other what his parents said to him when he got in at 4am the other day. 'Oh I just threw a few grunt words at them and got out of earshot as soon as possible. Works every time'. Hmmm. So that’s why they do it.

I check out the upper level of the new Eagle Centre, more of the same I’m afraid. I did find a walking shop but it's a cheapo Millets type affair and not one with any decent kit.

I have a week old scotch egg out of the fridge as part of my lunch. It's only two days past it's eat by date. I forgot it was there. L says that if I have a hangover tomorrow I can blame the egg.

On Sunday evening we are off to see Seth Lakeman in concert. He’s not really my type of singer and I’m desperately trying to brush up on his material but I can’t get any of his records to work on my computer on work. I wonder if this is a bad omen.

I get home and because I haven’t cycled, I don’t get chance to ‘wow’ L with my lyrca. Which is a shame because Daughter has been dispatched to the school’s all night disco and with Son super glued to the internet, we practically have the house to ourselves.

L is looking worried. At first I think this has something to do with the odious beast, as she calls it, money. Calling money the odious beast is something to do with Jesus I believe, thankfully we’re not religious. I think perhaps she over spent during her gadding about in the North East last weekend. Now if she’d spent the time stuck in field at a dog show like the rest of us, she’d have had a cheaper but duller time.

In the end though it turns out to be a new found fear of night clubs e.g. a feeling too old, nothing to wear, sort of fear. Personally I think you’re never too old to go clubbing because one rule of night clubs is that there’s always someone older than you there. What to wear? As little as possible, I would have thought. L came to bed the other night in a very nice all black combo but I guess her wearing that tonight is out of the question.

Anyhow I offer to treat her to her ticket and also lubricate her with copious amounts of Leffe first, so off we go. She looks great in a dress, stockings and boots but thanks to Nottingham’s intermittent bus service we end up walking into town which makes the boots immediately seem perhaps not such a good idea, which is a shame, as I do like a pair of boots.

After four beers at the Ropewalk, we hit the Cookie Club. Its retro night, I’m not sure whether that's just the music or the people too. A bit of both as it turns out and my rule of night clubs holds true. We are far from the oldest there.

Another beer, a lot of dancing and some animal behaviour from L. Bonus. I think the night goes particularly well but then there’s the long walk home in those boots.