Where's Your Girl When You Need Her?

A pleasant cycle in despite the heavy traffic and still no punctures.

My business trip to Ireland was worthwhile because we get the order. So I might have to go over there again. Hopefully next time I can wangle flying into Dublin instead. Apparently it's more Irish there and also the beer and the women are better. They say a Dubliner would climb across 20 naked women to get to a pint of real Irish Guinness. I'm not so sure about that, you'd be pretty thirsty by the time you got to your drink.

My email seems to be blocking L's bragging emails, apparently she's been for an excellent swim, but our server is refusing to pass on the message. I get that many bragging emails from her, the server has probably assumed someone is spamming me.

So she's been for a swim and she's on about gyming tonight despite the fact she says she's absolutely creased after her circuits class and what she describes as the evil yoga last night. She IS trying to out do me.

By the time it comes to time to cycle home, it's started throwing it down. I must look on the bright side; it could be good practice for my next event on Sunday. I've got to have a wet race at some point. I'm looking forward to it.

To complicate cycling matters even further, it seems a lorry has killed a pedestrian who was walking along the A52 towards Nottingham and consequently the road has been closed in both directions. Quite what a pedestrian doing on the A52, God knows, but it’s going to be chaos out there. I'm glad I’m not driving.

Strangely as I cross the bridge over the A52 the road is quiet, which isn't really a sign of it being closed, perhaps it's already reopened. Unfortunately no one seems to be risking it and all the minor roads, e.g. my route home, are jammed solid. I weave in and out of the silly people in their cars, feeling a very smug, if a little damp, cyclist.

It's typical isn't it, you get home in wet lyrca and where's your girl when you need her? She's not in, unfortunately she's had to work late. So there's no welcoming party to help me out my wet clothes and towel me down. Well that’s not strictly true. Man’s best friend is soon by my side, enthusiastically greeting me and then running to stand by the back door, eager to go out. Ha. I'll soon put a stop to his enthusiasm. All I have to do is open the door. Yep, that's done it, once open, he takes one brief look at the rain pounding down outside and scuttles back inside, straight to bed. He doesn’t like the rain.

Oddly Son is on TV watch rather than Daughter, which makes me think the internet is down but no, apparently it isn’t.

I was intending to try and get the Doggo out on our usual Tuesday run but after last weeks fiasco, I doubted he’d be up for it. Now that it's raining I've got absolutely no chance. Mind you, getting wet and cold again perhaps isn’t such a good idea for me either. I decide to skip it.

L gets home looking wonderfully bedraggled and sporting some new earrings, which compliment her wet look very well. This is her treat for being a good girl and keeping off the cakes. The treat that I haven't got around to getting her yet. I shall buy the dress to go with them instead.

L and Daughter go off for a gym session and when they get back, I have a nice slab of red meat waiting for L to get her teeth into. Rib eye steak with all the trimmings. Very nice. The red meat works. Real sex.

Well it took some doing. It was one of the biggest challenges I've ever undertaken. It has required dedication, sacrifice, and a lot of late nights. Yep, I've finally done it, I've finished Graeme Obree's book. A great cyclist but God, he was so depressing.

L is now on about buying Deborah Curtis' book, which could be just as depressing. I wonder if in the meantime I can persuade Daughter to part with the mad person's diary.