Tropical

2 degrees this morning. Tropical. There's a slight breeze which makes me realise why it's been such a good week on the bike. Until today there's been no wind at all.

The same woman in her Ford Ka who unsuccessfully tried to assassinate me before tries to do it again, with exactly the same manoeuvre as before, pulling out of Station Road in Borrowash, followed by an immediate right into Victoria Avenue.

Despite her efforts I make it to work unscathed, so that's four days in a row, which will be ‘hard to beat’ to coin a phrase from last night. Feeling well smug.

L's 'working' from home today and tries to out smug me by running, doing the papers and then going to yoga. She comes back from yoga with a new skirt. Very clever and very naughty, although I will look forward to seeing her in and out of it.

We're told that the government wants to address obesity and excessive car use but it has been announced that the secretary of state for media, culture, and sport has cut off funding for recreational cycling because they've decided it doesn't count as a sport any more, whereas swimming, sailing, and horse riding do. More sensible logic from the powers that be.

Daughter looked at bit rough this morning after the gig and late night homework session. L escorted her partway to school and says she got accused of doing do so just to make sure Daughter didn't fall asleep on the way. That's what mothers are for. Hope she's got some crap lessons she can snooze through today. Things won't get any easier she's got a gang of girls round from a 'sleep' over on Saturday. Luckily I'm off out.

In the evening we amble up to Beeston. The Fullers London Porter is very good but the Grantham Stout is better.