Last night L texted me to say that she needed a 6.30 run, meaning that she wished me to accompany her. Not a problem, it will be a pleasure. That is until I realise that she means 6.30am not 6.30pm. This is how I end up being awoken by my alarm at 5.50am. Hard work getting up but it is pleasant when we get out there.
The reason for the early run is because L needs to be at work early and leaves me to deal with 'family life' as she calls it. Doggo despite his run is being annoying with his fluffy ball. Daughter has gone back to sleep, and I almost have to resort to the crowbar out to get her up. Everything is soon sorted though, Daughter off to school, Doggo out the lounge and away from the temptation of the settee. So I lock up and go to work, in the car again, because I’m on the pub run. Son is just arriving back from his paper round as I leave, so Doggo won't have long to wait to get on the settee.
L emails me about the Fife Diet, where a family are trying to survive on food local to Fife. L de-compensates for her manic day by having a mince pie, so I hope it was local. I do my de-compensating at the pub with some cottage pie and a local beer, Flowerpot own brew 3.9%, can’t get more local that that, brewed ten feet away.
On my way home I do a quick nip to the shops to get some presents or at least I try to make it quick. They say that the internet is killing the high street shops, correction, high street shops are killing themselves and driving people to the internet, not the other way around. I go in Argos, possibly the worst shop ever but very convenient. If Argos was food, it would be a microwave meal, you know you shouldn't but sometimes you just have to. I have pre-ordered something but still have to queue for ages because they are shockingly understaffed. They have a solitary person on the tills and a mile long queue. The collection point is worse; they have no one there, unless you count the teenager chatting to his mate. Meanwhile behind him, carnage is occurring as packages appear on the conveyor belt from the storeroom and just sit there piling up, naturally he is oblivious to this and to the ever increasing queue of irate customers, of which I am one.
Toys R Us are better, but only slightly, as they manage to open two checkouts and there you only have to queue once but it still takes ages.
Later my opponent 'drags what is left of himself' down for a game of squash. He reckons his body has given up for the year or does he mean that he's given up on it. That certainly appears to the case as he falls apart after I win a close first game. I go on to take the match 3-0. I'm close to taking the fourth when he wakes up and fights back. He wins the next three to level the score but I win the final game to win not only the match but the war 4-3.
In the pub, they have two Nottingham Brewery beers on the bar, as they always do, but I go for Bateman's, Lincolnshire is pretty local.
I get home where L has left me far too much bread and pasta but I eat it all the same, with a glass of red to wash it down and a little help from Doggo. There's cheese on top of the bread and he's rather partial to that. I need the carbohydrates as L is up for an early night.