Daughter is off to her gym again at Chilwell. Unfortunately it starts at 9.30. So again we don't get a lie in but we do wake up early enough for me to show L the correct way that a girl should wear her PJs. Which is lowered to her knees.
We drop Daughter off and again go for a run around Attenborough Nature Reserve. Doggo seems a bit cautious, perhaps because of the demonic Dalmatian. It doesn't take him long to perk up and he is soon off ahead. Too far ahead, he is an ambush waiting to happen. Perhaps he's looking forward to getting his own back on the Dalmatian. L is too. She keeps talking about getting hold of a baseball bat. Not sure if this is for the Dalmatian or its owners.
We do a shorter route this time, partly because it'll be quicker but also because I can barely walk after my cycling. At least this time we know the route, so we don't get lost.
We do meet the Dalmatian again. So its baseball bats at the ready. This time the owners get hold of it and Doggo even comes back to me when he's called, he must be worried. So no skirmishes occur this time.
In the afternoon, I go off to the match. Derby are on the verge of equalling two long standing club records for nine consecutive wins (held by Brian Cloughs 1969 promotion winning team) and for six consecutive clean sheets (held since 1912). Neither happens as for once Derby get a taste of their own medicine and concede an equaliser three minutes from time. Finishes 2-2. Former Derby boss Phil Brown, who is now in charge at Hull, is ecstatic. Results elsewhere mean that Derby actually stretch their lead at the top to seven points.
Get home. Quick cheese on toast. Then we walk to the Victoria. We meet up with my squash opponent and his partner. He is pleased to find out that he's surpassed himself this time. Rather than the usual bruise his racquet seems to have brought up a lump on my back instead. He wonders what the next step up from a lump is. He reckons it might be concussion; he's going to compile a chart. I tell him about rule 16 (Bleeding, injury and illness on court). As this states that if any bleeding is caused solely by the opponent’s action, the injured player wins the match. Of course he will say that me being in the way means it wasn't solely his fault. Another interesting part of the rule is that if a player vomits on court, the opponent wins the match.
Have five pints, three of them Damson Porter.
We go home and snack on keema and peas, which L prepared earlier.
Saturday, 10 February 2007
Friday, 9 February 2007
Unstoppable
Had a very enjoyable warm up with L before I even checked to see whether the weather was conducive to cycling. Had to bike after I’d done that really. It's certainly cold but it doesn't look too bad from the bedroom window. The main roads turn out to be fine but the side roads are a bit interesting. I practically had to walk the bike down to the end of our road.
L will be pleased to know I took it very easy. I had time to enjoy the views; all the snow on the hills looked very decorative. I even took the long way round when I got to Derby to avoid the minor roads in case they were icy. So I was being very sensible. The hardest bit was crossing the icy footbridge over into Pride Park which isn't easy in cycling shoes. Good news is that I still did a pretty good time.
Also had a minor success and got an old chap on a bike to say good morning to me. Normally all the older cyclists are right grumpy sods and won't acknowledge you at all.
L gets in touch and says she wishes she'd talked me out of cycling. She herself slipped over as she was crossing the road on her way to work. Glad I didn’t get the bus, didn’t fancy walking on those pavements.
Mr Frisky, our dog had a great time on the park, where there is actually still quite a lot of snow around on the grass; he ate most of it. He was so absorbed in the snow he even skipped merrily past the deer without seeing them.
I tell L to pack her thermals for Scotland next week. Its -5 degrees at Cairngorm today, -25 degrees with wind chill. Good job she's got her PJs. She's trying to talk me into getting some. If this is a fantasy of hers then I'm happy to indulge her as long as she doesn't expect me to actually sleep in them. I would be far too hot and sweaty.
Our previously hopeless cricket team beat Australia in the first of the three-legged final. Amazing.
Finally sent my Ipod off for repair.
It rains most of the afternoon which isn't good news as it means I'm going to get soaked on the way home. Then things get worse and it turns to snow.
It's not too bad at first, apart from the flakes getting in my eyes. The roads are that wet and salty it's not settling but then as I get on the hillier parts it is starting to settle particularly in the gutter where us cyclists have to ride. Luckily the cars seem to give this madman on the bike a wide berth. Can someone ring Radio Derby and tell them it's snowing.
I often sing to myself as I bike, today for some reason the words "Tonight make me unstoppable" spring to mind from Bloc Party's new single 'The Prayer'.
Get home without any mishaps although the last bit, getting to our house, is tricky as the quieter roads do have a covering of snow. Decide it's easier to ride the bike than walk and slip in cycling shoes. Get home but there's only Doggo and a dark house to greet me after my heroic journey. L is being induced into Daughter's Gym and has taken Daughter with her. Son is presumably away somewhere in the dark reaches of cyberspace.
Strip almost naked in the kitchen, there is snow everywhere. Doggo has a field day, not knowing whether to drink from the puddles on the floor or lick my blue feet. Put the gas fire on and run a hot bath. Decide I can't thaw out in front of the fire yet as my feet are just too cold and painful. I rub one foot with a towel while Doggo licks the other, then we swap. He can be a useful dog. I text L to ask if she's noticed that it's snowing. Apparently she has.
Then I lounge in the bath with a hot protein shake and muffins with jam. L did say I should be adventurous and make my own mini pizzas or something. However having just cycled home in a blizzard, I’m not sure I can take any more adventure today.
By the time they get home, I'm curled up in my dressing gown in front of the fire with Doggo. L makes hot soup and 'adventurous' cheese and ham toasties. We have this with some mulled wine that has been languishing in the wine rack for the past year. Very warming.
I think the mulled wine quickly goes to L's head and with me sitting there in just my dressing gown I think I may have managed to get all my aches thoroughly dealt with there and then in front of the fire had Daughter now been in the house. As it was L pops her new PJs on and we retire to bed with a beer at 9pm. Neither my dressing gown nor her PJs stay on for very long. Aches all sorted. A very pleasant evening.
L will be pleased to know I took it very easy. I had time to enjoy the views; all the snow on the hills looked very decorative. I even took the long way round when I got to Derby to avoid the minor roads in case they were icy. So I was being very sensible. The hardest bit was crossing the icy footbridge over into Pride Park which isn't easy in cycling shoes. Good news is that I still did a pretty good time.
Also had a minor success and got an old chap on a bike to say good morning to me. Normally all the older cyclists are right grumpy sods and won't acknowledge you at all.
L gets in touch and says she wishes she'd talked me out of cycling. She herself slipped over as she was crossing the road on her way to work. Glad I didn’t get the bus, didn’t fancy walking on those pavements.
Mr Frisky, our dog had a great time on the park, where there is actually still quite a lot of snow around on the grass; he ate most of it. He was so absorbed in the snow he even skipped merrily past the deer without seeing them.
I tell L to pack her thermals for Scotland next week. Its -5 degrees at Cairngorm today, -25 degrees with wind chill. Good job she's got her PJs. She's trying to talk me into getting some. If this is a fantasy of hers then I'm happy to indulge her as long as she doesn't expect me to actually sleep in them. I would be far too hot and sweaty.
Our previously hopeless cricket team beat Australia in the first of the three-legged final. Amazing.
Finally sent my Ipod off for repair.
It rains most of the afternoon which isn't good news as it means I'm going to get soaked on the way home. Then things get worse and it turns to snow.
It's not too bad at first, apart from the flakes getting in my eyes. The roads are that wet and salty it's not settling but then as I get on the hillier parts it is starting to settle particularly in the gutter where us cyclists have to ride. Luckily the cars seem to give this madman on the bike a wide berth. Can someone ring Radio Derby and tell them it's snowing.
I often sing to myself as I bike, today for some reason the words "Tonight make me unstoppable" spring to mind from Bloc Party's new single 'The Prayer'.
Get home without any mishaps although the last bit, getting to our house, is tricky as the quieter roads do have a covering of snow. Decide it's easier to ride the bike than walk and slip in cycling shoes. Get home but there's only Doggo and a dark house to greet me after my heroic journey. L is being induced into Daughter's Gym and has taken Daughter with her. Son is presumably away somewhere in the dark reaches of cyberspace.
Strip almost naked in the kitchen, there is snow everywhere. Doggo has a field day, not knowing whether to drink from the puddles on the floor or lick my blue feet. Put the gas fire on and run a hot bath. Decide I can't thaw out in front of the fire yet as my feet are just too cold and painful. I rub one foot with a towel while Doggo licks the other, then we swap. He can be a useful dog. I text L to ask if she's noticed that it's snowing. Apparently she has.
Then I lounge in the bath with a hot protein shake and muffins with jam. L did say I should be adventurous and make my own mini pizzas or something. However having just cycled home in a blizzard, I’m not sure I can take any more adventure today.
By the time they get home, I'm curled up in my dressing gown in front of the fire with Doggo. L makes hot soup and 'adventurous' cheese and ham toasties. We have this with some mulled wine that has been languishing in the wine rack for the past year. Very warming.
I think the mulled wine quickly goes to L's head and with me sitting there in just my dressing gown I think I may have managed to get all my aches thoroughly dealt with there and then in front of the fire had Daughter now been in the house. As it was L pops her new PJs on and we retire to bed with a beer at 9pm. Neither my dressing gown nor her PJs stay on for very long. Aches all sorted. A very pleasant evening.
Thursday, 8 February 2007
Snow Joke
Something strange happened this morning or was it last night. Woke up with my 23-year-old again but it was still dark outside and the alarm hadn't gone off. Oddly we were both awake. Things kind of took off from there. Half an hour or so later, the alarm still hadn't gone off. Looked across at the alarm and it was 2.30am. Hmmm. My girl didn't complain that I'd disturbed her sleep. So she must have enjoyed our nocturnal exploits or maybe even she instigated it!
When the alarm finally does go off, I get out of bed and draw the curtains to inspect the expected whiteout. Nothing. Not a flake. Although admittedly it does, rather apologetically, start snowing a little later. Gently.
Take the car to work. Heaviest snow for years according to the BBC weather. This must be particularly devious heavy snow, as it sneakily disguises itself as a light dusting. Bugger. Forgot to pack a spade.
Very easy getting in to work, cruised in, got to work a lot earlier than usual. It helps no end with all the schools being off. Radio Derby read out a list of 32 schools that are shut. This includes many hard to get to city centre schools where the kids really only have to cross the road to get there.
When I was a lad we used to get proper snow, six foot deep and we still went to school in it, sometimes by foot because the bus didn’t turn up. If you didn't arrive at school they'd want to know why and if the snow wasn't up to your neck you couldn't use that as an excuse.
The whole of the country seems to have ground to a halt despite the fact that round here there's not a single flake on the roads. L's had three patients cancel. Well at least she'll be home early tonight.
It's must all be to do with our 'can't be bothered culture'. In reality the snow is a total washout, the odd flake is still falling but not settling. This country can't do anything right, it doesn't even snow properly here.
Surprisingly the council staff had managed to battle through all the drifts to get the leisure centre open so that L could get her morning swim. Was worried that we would get to the leisure centre for our squash tonight and find it locked, more hopeful now.
End up not going to the pub. My drinking partner has brought a packed lunch. He assumed it would be too horrible to go out in. Has everyone gone soft? Obviously he has more faith in the British weather than I do. None of the sandwich vans turn up, so I go to Sainsbury's in the car on immaculate roads. It is packed to rafters. Luckily no one has been panic buying the sandwiches and I manage to get some lunch.
The radio continues the pretence as I drive home. The number of closed schools in Derbyshire now stands at 70. Nationwide it's 2000. Local radio advises people to keep off the roads, don't make any journeys unless absolutely necessary and drive carefully if they do. Yet there is absolutely nothing remotely snowy on the roads! I have the huskies primed and ready to get me to squash but now I'm going to have to tell them they're not needed.
Walk Doggo. Although I'm not too sure why. Taking him out in this weather just seems to make him friskier. L gets home. Together with Daughter, she takes him for a run but he's still lively. Daughter seems to have recovered from her school avoidance phase. L blames it on PMT. Is that PMT as in Permanently Moody Teenager?
Squash is a bit of a wash out. I don't play well and he does. I win one game. The pub is better. Grantham Stout 4.3% is back on. I have two.
Get home and L has done her beans dish, have a couple of glasses of red wine with it. Knackered again, go to sleep dreaming of being awoken at 2am again.
When the alarm finally does go off, I get out of bed and draw the curtains to inspect the expected whiteout. Nothing. Not a flake. Although admittedly it does, rather apologetically, start snowing a little later. Gently.
Take the car to work. Heaviest snow for years according to the BBC weather. This must be particularly devious heavy snow, as it sneakily disguises itself as a light dusting. Bugger. Forgot to pack a spade.
Very easy getting in to work, cruised in, got to work a lot earlier than usual. It helps no end with all the schools being off. Radio Derby read out a list of 32 schools that are shut. This includes many hard to get to city centre schools where the kids really only have to cross the road to get there.
When I was a lad we used to get proper snow, six foot deep and we still went to school in it, sometimes by foot because the bus didn’t turn up. If you didn't arrive at school they'd want to know why and if the snow wasn't up to your neck you couldn't use that as an excuse.
The whole of the country seems to have ground to a halt despite the fact that round here there's not a single flake on the roads. L's had three patients cancel. Well at least she'll be home early tonight.
It's must all be to do with our 'can't be bothered culture'. In reality the snow is a total washout, the odd flake is still falling but not settling. This country can't do anything right, it doesn't even snow properly here.
Surprisingly the council staff had managed to battle through all the drifts to get the leisure centre open so that L could get her morning swim. Was worried that we would get to the leisure centre for our squash tonight and find it locked, more hopeful now.
End up not going to the pub. My drinking partner has brought a packed lunch. He assumed it would be too horrible to go out in. Has everyone gone soft? Obviously he has more faith in the British weather than I do. None of the sandwich vans turn up, so I go to Sainsbury's in the car on immaculate roads. It is packed to rafters. Luckily no one has been panic buying the sandwiches and I manage to get some lunch.
The radio continues the pretence as I drive home. The number of closed schools in Derbyshire now stands at 70. Nationwide it's 2000. Local radio advises people to keep off the roads, don't make any journeys unless absolutely necessary and drive carefully if they do. Yet there is absolutely nothing remotely snowy on the roads! I have the huskies primed and ready to get me to squash but now I'm going to have to tell them they're not needed.
Walk Doggo. Although I'm not too sure why. Taking him out in this weather just seems to make him friskier. L gets home. Together with Daughter, she takes him for a run but he's still lively. Daughter seems to have recovered from her school avoidance phase. L blames it on PMT. Is that PMT as in Permanently Moody Teenager?
Squash is a bit of a wash out. I don't play well and he does. I win one game. The pub is better. Grantham Stout 4.3% is back on. I have two.
Get home and L has done her beans dish, have a couple of glasses of red wine with it. Knackered again, go to sleep dreaming of being awoken at 2am again.
Wednesday, 7 February 2007
Iceberg
This morning, as I woke up and the fog of sleep cleared from my mind. I realised that there was a very attractive and youthful lass curled up against me. At a rough guess I'd put her age at about 23. Since she was awake and of course not wishing to be impolite, I embrace her affectionately. Very affectionately. She didn't seem to mind. In fact she seemed very grateful. Glad to be of service.
Once I had untangled myself from the young girl. I had to decide on car or bus. Bus was tempting although it'll be a cold cold walk at either end. The thermometer said -5 degrees. The local weather forecast says we’re getting 10cm of snow tomorrow. They seem pretty definite, snow starts at 5am prompt.
In the end plump for the car. Then I can go for a post work swim, which was L's suggestion. I should still be back in time to chauffeur Daughter to her women's institute, sorry Guides meeting. Daughter apparently does still not want to go to school and chucked all her toys out of the pram again this morning.
Lecht ski area, just down the road from our cottage in Scotland, has opened today, as they’ve had snow. So good news there. Just hope they can hold on to it for the next fortnight.
Dudley council announces that they are not opening any of their schools tomorrow in ‘anticipation of the snow’ even before a single flake had fallen. Oh for gods sake. How pathetic. Whoever made that decision should be dismissed immediately.
After work I head straight for the swimming pool, as planned. It's not as busy as last time I came and the clientele are certainly not as good on the eye. Where are all the babes?
Anyway down to the serious stuff, I'm here to swim. I decide to be assertive and go into one of the two fast lanes. There are two female psychos in the end lane, powering up and down, so I decide to go in the second lane, hoping it would be more relaxed.
As I swim up and down, I realise my mistake. The only other occupant of the lane is certainly no babe. I end up pondering on the wonders of nature as this mass of white flesh floats along, reminiscent of an iceberg. How can something so big float? Amazing. Suppose jumbo jets fly but they are a least streamlined and powered by big engines not stubby little arms and legs.
She also certainly shouldn't be in the fast lane. She swims one length breaststroke (slowly) then she turns over and does the next length backstroke (at a snail's pace). By now I've been joined by another woman in the lane. The two of us keep colliding as we try and stay behind the slow moving obstruction, the lane is just too narrow to overtake safely. It's reminiscent of when you get stuck behind a tractor on a narrow country lane.
I look enviously across at the other fast lane. Not only are the women more attractive over there, they can swim. I study one of the girl's techniques and try to pick it up. I'm studying her so closely I'm worried she might notice and slot me one for ogling her body. Nice though her figure is it's her technique I'm after but I'm sure my excuse wouldn't wash.
The iceberg sees us all off and eventually she is alone in the lane again. I head home to escort Daughter to guides. Something seems to have happened to my arms; I can't lift them. Must have been a good workout.
Get Doggo all ready for the walk to guides. I kit him out in his new collar that I've bought off the internet and which has arrived today. It's red; almost the same colour as his running jacket. L will love it; she'll say it looks smart on him. I think it's a bit poncy; Doggo seems to agree.
Then Daughter decides she isn't going to guides, which is fine with me. She gives some excuse that she hasn't got the full uniform and they're clamping down on that. Unlikely. She also says that she doesn't want to miss Hollyoaks. More likely. Sad.
‘TV taught me how to sulk and love nothing’ - That's a quote from 'Uniform' a track off the new Bloc Party album.
L gets home and is keen to run. So Doggo and I decide to join her rather than go to dog class. It will do Doggo good to have a run round the pond. I also manage to talk L into a swift one. She's suspicious as to whether I mean sex or alcohol. I was thinking of the pub but I'm not fussy, either or preferably both.
L extends the run route yet again. 'It'll only add ten minutes to it' she says. Half an hour later we finally reach the sanctuary of the pub.
I have an Everards Tiger, which is very nice. L tastes mine and decides she wants one on the second round. It's so nice in fact that, as is usual with anything I like, they take it off the bar before I can have another one. Resort to Taylors Landlord. Two pints on a Wednesday. Naughty.
Get Home. Knackered. I sleep. What happened to 'both'.
Once I had untangled myself from the young girl. I had to decide on car or bus. Bus was tempting although it'll be a cold cold walk at either end. The thermometer said -5 degrees. The local weather forecast says we’re getting 10cm of snow tomorrow. They seem pretty definite, snow starts at 5am prompt.
In the end plump for the car. Then I can go for a post work swim, which was L's suggestion. I should still be back in time to chauffeur Daughter to her women's institute, sorry Guides meeting. Daughter apparently does still not want to go to school and chucked all her toys out of the pram again this morning.
Lecht ski area, just down the road from our cottage in Scotland, has opened today, as they’ve had snow. So good news there. Just hope they can hold on to it for the next fortnight.
Dudley council announces that they are not opening any of their schools tomorrow in ‘anticipation of the snow’ even before a single flake had fallen. Oh for gods sake. How pathetic. Whoever made that decision should be dismissed immediately.
After work I head straight for the swimming pool, as planned. It's not as busy as last time I came and the clientele are certainly not as good on the eye. Where are all the babes?
Anyway down to the serious stuff, I'm here to swim. I decide to be assertive and go into one of the two fast lanes. There are two female psychos in the end lane, powering up and down, so I decide to go in the second lane, hoping it would be more relaxed.
As I swim up and down, I realise my mistake. The only other occupant of the lane is certainly no babe. I end up pondering on the wonders of nature as this mass of white flesh floats along, reminiscent of an iceberg. How can something so big float? Amazing. Suppose jumbo jets fly but they are a least streamlined and powered by big engines not stubby little arms and legs.
She also certainly shouldn't be in the fast lane. She swims one length breaststroke (slowly) then she turns over and does the next length backstroke (at a snail's pace). By now I've been joined by another woman in the lane. The two of us keep colliding as we try and stay behind the slow moving obstruction, the lane is just too narrow to overtake safely. It's reminiscent of when you get stuck behind a tractor on a narrow country lane.
I look enviously across at the other fast lane. Not only are the women more attractive over there, they can swim. I study one of the girl's techniques and try to pick it up. I'm studying her so closely I'm worried she might notice and slot me one for ogling her body. Nice though her figure is it's her technique I'm after but I'm sure my excuse wouldn't wash.
The iceberg sees us all off and eventually she is alone in the lane again. I head home to escort Daughter to guides. Something seems to have happened to my arms; I can't lift them. Must have been a good workout.
Get Doggo all ready for the walk to guides. I kit him out in his new collar that I've bought off the internet and which has arrived today. It's red; almost the same colour as his running jacket. L will love it; she'll say it looks smart on him. I think it's a bit poncy; Doggo seems to agree.
Then Daughter decides she isn't going to guides, which is fine with me. She gives some excuse that she hasn't got the full uniform and they're clamping down on that. Unlikely. She also says that she doesn't want to miss Hollyoaks. More likely. Sad.
‘TV taught me how to sulk and love nothing’ - That's a quote from 'Uniform' a track off the new Bloc Party album.
L gets home and is keen to run. So Doggo and I decide to join her rather than go to dog class. It will do Doggo good to have a run round the pond. I also manage to talk L into a swift one. She's suspicious as to whether I mean sex or alcohol. I was thinking of the pub but I'm not fussy, either or preferably both.
L extends the run route yet again. 'It'll only add ten minutes to it' she says. Half an hour later we finally reach the sanctuary of the pub.
I have an Everards Tiger, which is very nice. L tastes mine and decides she wants one on the second round. It's so nice in fact that, as is usual with anything I like, they take it off the bar before I can have another one. Resort to Taylors Landlord. Two pints on a Wednesday. Naughty.
Get Home. Knackered. I sleep. What happened to 'both'.
Tuesday, 6 February 2007
My Glaring Omission
Son is off on a school history trip this morning, so L has to do the paper round. I offer to help out by taking the dog out because doing the whole round with him might be difficult but she declines. She reckons she can cope with him. Well I suppose he knows the routine by now. I think she is worried that if I take him for a run/walk then that might leave me in a weakened state for my cycle to work. She thinks about me you see, doesn't want me toppling off in an exhausted state. I think.
Was wondering whether to indulge in some 'good luck tricks', as L has started calling them (Tricks? Me?), when the decision was taken out of my hands. Perhaps L is getting a superstitious as I am.
Son has to be at school for 7.30. At 7.15 he's still not ready. He has absolutely no chance of getting the bus and being there on time. Not that he looks bothered. He hasn't grasped the concept of bus timetables and certainly not 'council run' bus timetables. He seems to assume that he just has to turn up at the bus stop, at any time, and the correct bus will magically show up. Which amazingly is how it always seems to happen for him, never works for me though. In this case though L has to rescue him and takes him to school in the car.
Good trip in on the bike today. Although it's a bit on the cold side but not icy. Once at work I discover that they haven’t enough milk for me to make my protein shake. So had to make do with some nuts and orange juice instead.
L's had a rough day so far. I think she regretted taking on the whole of the paper round with Doggo. In his enthusiasm he yanked her all the way round and now she's got lead-burns on her hands. Add to that the fact that Daughter seems to be trying to avoid school. She unilaterally decided that she was far too ill to go to school and threw the traditional wobbly. She went in the end but L had to thoroughly check the house in case she'd hidden somewhere instead.
L's off shopping to cheer herself up or perhaps its to cheer me up. She's after PJs for Scotland and some new vests. Sounds like quite a seduction kit. Hope it's me she's trying to pull. Will look forward to the fashion show tonight.
Amazingly England defeat New Zealand and victory is enough to knock New Zealand out of the triangular series and put England through to the final, where they'll play Australia.
Bike home. Have an energy drink and a banana. Meet my pension's man, who has brought family photos with him, of his Rottweiler. Then Doggo and I run down to meet L from her latest limb busting exercise class. Pilates this time, I think. As is now becoming traditional, I choose a different route to L and we miss her again. By the time we catch up with her, she is almost home. Well at least we got a good run out of it.
I have been pulled up by L for a glaring omission in this blog. She was miffed that I didn’t mention that Craig, for that was his name, the drunk from Friday night mistook her for a 23-year-old babe. I told you he thought his luck was in! Anyhow I didn't think it was worth mentioning. With her youthful looks it must happen all the time. It's so easy to forget that she isn’t quite that young. I forget all the time. Apology over, might even get me a night of passion if I'm lucky.
Was wondering whether to indulge in some 'good luck tricks', as L has started calling them (Tricks? Me?), when the decision was taken out of my hands. Perhaps L is getting a superstitious as I am.
Son has to be at school for 7.30. At 7.15 he's still not ready. He has absolutely no chance of getting the bus and being there on time. Not that he looks bothered. He hasn't grasped the concept of bus timetables and certainly not 'council run' bus timetables. He seems to assume that he just has to turn up at the bus stop, at any time, and the correct bus will magically show up. Which amazingly is how it always seems to happen for him, never works for me though. In this case though L has to rescue him and takes him to school in the car.
Good trip in on the bike today. Although it's a bit on the cold side but not icy. Once at work I discover that they haven’t enough milk for me to make my protein shake. So had to make do with some nuts and orange juice instead.
L's had a rough day so far. I think she regretted taking on the whole of the paper round with Doggo. In his enthusiasm he yanked her all the way round and now she's got lead-burns on her hands. Add to that the fact that Daughter seems to be trying to avoid school. She unilaterally decided that she was far too ill to go to school and threw the traditional wobbly. She went in the end but L had to thoroughly check the house in case she'd hidden somewhere instead.
L's off shopping to cheer herself up or perhaps its to cheer me up. She's after PJs for Scotland and some new vests. Sounds like quite a seduction kit. Hope it's me she's trying to pull. Will look forward to the fashion show tonight.
Amazingly England defeat New Zealand and victory is enough to knock New Zealand out of the triangular series and put England through to the final, where they'll play Australia.
Bike home. Have an energy drink and a banana. Meet my pension's man, who has brought family photos with him, of his Rottweiler. Then Doggo and I run down to meet L from her latest limb busting exercise class. Pilates this time, I think. As is now becoming traditional, I choose a different route to L and we miss her again. By the time we catch up with her, she is almost home. Well at least we got a good run out of it.
I have been pulled up by L for a glaring omission in this blog. She was miffed that I didn’t mention that Craig, for that was his name, the drunk from Friday night mistook her for a 23-year-old babe. I told you he thought his luck was in! Anyhow I didn't think it was worth mentioning. With her youthful looks it must happen all the time. It's so easy to forget that she isn’t quite that young. I forget all the time. Apology over, might even get me a night of passion if I'm lucky.
Monday, 5 February 2007
Harley's Back
Today moving the alarm to 6.20 seems to work and I get back into my routine. Only problem is I'm not cycling today. So don't really need my good luck routine but what the hell. It won't do any harm. Then again perhaps it's just as relevant when I'm in the car.
L complains that she was just a bit too late getting up to get a run in this morning. Don’t know what held her up. She really should get out of bed earlier. I think she suspects that I've been tweaking the alarm.
Bizarrely the traffic is quite light.
It seems the heroine of my student days; the decidedly uncool Belinda Carlisle has a new album out. To be honest I’m a bit of a lapsed groupie, haven't bought one of her LPs for a while. On closer inspection its called 'Voila' and it's all in French. Hmmm tempted now. How cool.
Before Christmas I wrote to Nottingham City Council and requested their leisure centre attendance figures under the Freedom of Information Act. This was because whenever we suggest to the council that they open at different times or do different sessions they always hit back that historically when they've tried that it hasn't worked. So I wanted to see this historical data that they are so fond of quoting back at me.
Now it appears that Information Governance office is telling me that this historical data does not exist and to compile it for me is going to cost me £103,583.00 Which is hysterical. So seems the data never has existed after all.
Go to agility. Which goes ok. Apart from the fact that the Harley the Weimaraner is back and Doggo is not at all happy about it. Seems he's learnt nothing from his nip on the ear by the Dalmation.
We collect L from yoga, who still hasn’t been able to get hold of any yoga trousers, so she's been inappropriately dressed again at her session tonight.
Its bloody cold. They're forecasting snow for Thursday which would be good but I'm not holding my breath.
L complains that she was just a bit too late getting up to get a run in this morning. Don’t know what held her up. She really should get out of bed earlier. I think she suspects that I've been tweaking the alarm.
Bizarrely the traffic is quite light.
It seems the heroine of my student days; the decidedly uncool Belinda Carlisle has a new album out. To be honest I’m a bit of a lapsed groupie, haven't bought one of her LPs for a while. On closer inspection its called 'Voila' and it's all in French. Hmmm tempted now. How cool.
Before Christmas I wrote to Nottingham City Council and requested their leisure centre attendance figures under the Freedom of Information Act. This was because whenever we suggest to the council that they open at different times or do different sessions they always hit back that historically when they've tried that it hasn't worked. So I wanted to see this historical data that they are so fond of quoting back at me.
Now it appears that Information Governance office is telling me that this historical data does not exist and to compile it for me is going to cost me £103,583.00 Which is hysterical. So seems the data never has existed after all.
Go to agility. Which goes ok. Apart from the fact that the Harley the Weimaraner is back and Doggo is not at all happy about it. Seems he's learnt nothing from his nip on the ear by the Dalmation.
We collect L from yoga, who still hasn’t been able to get hold of any yoga trousers, so she's been inappropriately dressed again at her session tonight.
Its bloody cold. They're forecasting snow for Thursday which would be good but I'm not holding my breath.
Sunday, 4 February 2007
Spreewald Pickles
Daughter needs collecting at noon which means we can't make the orienteering in Wakefield. Disappointing but it means we can have a lie in. Which is excellent, we even manage to arrange for the paperboy to bring us a newspaper. So we have an excellent morning, fresh coffee, juice, the newspaper and double sex.
Take Doggo for a ball session on the park. He survives without getting mugged by any dogs but we have a dodgy moment with the deer. We take a wide detour because a pack of male deer complete with antlers are pacing across the park towards us. Unfortunately before we get a safe distance away from them a rather fragrant smelling pile of leaves calls to Doggo and he spends ages getting better acquainted with them. I stand there bellowing at him while all the time the lynch mob of deer move closer. When he's finally done, what does he do, he sits down and does a dump on the leaves. Dogs. Somehow he gets home without sustaining any damage to his other ear. Either from the deer or via a clip round the lughole from me.
Daughter gets home and is very concerned that we might have pigged out on a take away while she was away. L tells her very truthfully that we have not.
Spend the afternoon actually doing some jobs. Clean and vacuum the car. Test the new roof rack. Tidy up a bit in the garden. Get on the computer and finally book the accommodation in Austria.
In the evening we watched Goodbye Lenin. This is a German film set in East Berlin in 1989. The story is of Alex, whose mother, a devoted member of the Communist Party, suffers a heart attack and falls into a coma on the eve of the fall of the Berlin wall. In the meantime a tide of Western goods and values comes flooding eastwards. Eight months later, when she regains consciousness, Doctors, fearing that the shock of finding such a radically changed world will lead to a second heart attack, warn Alex not to cause his mother any anxiety or excitement. He therefore, goes to ludicrously lengths to keep her convinced that communism in East Berlin is still alive, right down to making sure that her pickles appear to come from Spreewald, a now defunct manufacturer.
As the situation becomes more and more impossible Alex creates false newscasts to explain the increasingly Westernised elements of the society that his mother now observes. Alex in effect recreates history to suit his needs. He creates a form of reverse capitalism where West German refugees, oppressed under capitalism, flee the West and seek refuge in the cosy communist East. He even explains that coca-cola was invented by the communists.
I think the film was supposed to be comedy but I think perhaps some of that was lost to us non-Germans. Although it does show a near satirical view of East German society rushing madly to embrace the coca-cola culture. It is still though a very good film that gave a good insight in to the changes in Germany's at that time and it includes some good actual news footage.
27 units for the week.
Take Doggo for a ball session on the park. He survives without getting mugged by any dogs but we have a dodgy moment with the deer. We take a wide detour because a pack of male deer complete with antlers are pacing across the park towards us. Unfortunately before we get a safe distance away from them a rather fragrant smelling pile of leaves calls to Doggo and he spends ages getting better acquainted with them. I stand there bellowing at him while all the time the lynch mob of deer move closer. When he's finally done, what does he do, he sits down and does a dump on the leaves. Dogs. Somehow he gets home without sustaining any damage to his other ear. Either from the deer or via a clip round the lughole from me.
Daughter gets home and is very concerned that we might have pigged out on a take away while she was away. L tells her very truthfully that we have not.
Spend the afternoon actually doing some jobs. Clean and vacuum the car. Test the new roof rack. Tidy up a bit in the garden. Get on the computer and finally book the accommodation in Austria.
In the evening we watched Goodbye Lenin. This is a German film set in East Berlin in 1989. The story is of Alex, whose mother, a devoted member of the Communist Party, suffers a heart attack and falls into a coma on the eve of the fall of the Berlin wall. In the meantime a tide of Western goods and values comes flooding eastwards. Eight months later, when she regains consciousness, Doctors, fearing that the shock of finding such a radically changed world will lead to a second heart attack, warn Alex not to cause his mother any anxiety or excitement. He therefore, goes to ludicrously lengths to keep her convinced that communism in East Berlin is still alive, right down to making sure that her pickles appear to come from Spreewald, a now defunct manufacturer.
As the situation becomes more and more impossible Alex creates false newscasts to explain the increasingly Westernised elements of the society that his mother now observes. Alex in effect recreates history to suit his needs. He creates a form of reverse capitalism where West German refugees, oppressed under capitalism, flee the West and seek refuge in the cosy communist East. He even explains that coca-cola was invented by the communists.
I think the film was supposed to be comedy but I think perhaps some of that was lost to us non-Germans. Although it does show a near satirical view of East German society rushing madly to embrace the coca-cola culture. It is still though a very good film that gave a good insight in to the changes in Germany's at that time and it includes some good actual news footage.
27 units for the week.
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Mugged (Again)
We have booked daughter in for a gym induction at Chilwell. Unfortunately it starts at 9.30. So we don't get a lie in and we don't get sex. Instead we drop her off and go for a run round Attenborough Nature Reserve. They have a marked trail of 5.5km which is ideal, as we need to be back to collect Daughter within an hour. Unfortunately the trail is as badly marked, as you would expect for something the council has put together and we get lost. Then Doggo gets mugged, again. This is becoming a distressingly frequent occurrence. A Dalmatian attacked him and pinned him to the ground by his ear, clearly hurting him. L and I had to pounce on the Dalmatian to wrench its teeth off Doggo's ear. No apology from the elderly owners, just an 'Oh he hasn't done that before'. Luckily the physical damage isn't too bad and Doggo gets away with a bleeding ear. Psychologically who knows, he is certainly well traumatised immediately after the attack.
With all these happenings the run took us well over an hour. Although I do doubt the councils measuring skills. Knackered now.
Get home and settle down with the radio to hear Derby's game at Southampton. Should be an interesting encounter. George Burley doesn't normally bother picking a defence; Billy Davies doesn't pick an attack. Reckon our good run might end and it'll be a draw could be a 0-0 or hey who knows 4-4.
In the end it's all Southampton and it should be 4-0 to them but the all-new resilient Derby hang in there and it looks like it's going to finish up 0-0, which would be a good point for us. Then with seven minutes to go Steve Howard pops in the winner. 1-0 Derby. Game Over as they say. They've done it again. Still six points clear.
Doggo seems to be recovering after his ordeal. Might all work in his favour as L is considering reviewing the conditions of his ASBO. Although we fully expect his condition to take a dramatic turn for the worse the moment we try and head off to the pub without him.
Daughter is at a sleep over come party tonight. The Mother of the girl who is having the party must be mad. Loads of kids from 6.30, then a sleep over and then she's keeping them until noon the next day. She needs certifying.
There's an added twist because Daughter tells us that there's a rumour going round school that the girl's dad is having an affair. Well at least he won't have any problem finding something to occupy him if he needs to make himself scarce while the girls take over the house.
With Daughter gone, we head into to town, without Doggo, despite his efforts to join us. Better for him to rest up.
We stick our head into three pubs: - Falcon, Red Lion, and the Sir John Borlase Warren, to see if they have any beer worth popping in for. They haven't, so we end up in the Ropewalk as usual. Three Leffes later we decide to treat ourselves to a meal. Daughter has forbidden us from going for a meal without her but what she actually told us was not to go for a curry, so we go for a Thai instead.
The meal is very good, the best we've had there, and the others haven't been bad. Although we do seem to gatecrash a couple of birthday parties. This girl is celebrating her 22nd and a guy, who was your stereotypical gay, his 18th. Although not really, turns out she's 46 and he, well couldn't work out how old he was.
We have two bottles of Singa and then stagger home. Manage to avoid popping into Scruffys for a dark one. Ah, the will power.
On the way home we almost collide a couple of times with some chap who's had several too many. When he next lurches past us and almost onto the road L grabs hold of him. She does sometimes have this Good Samaritan streak in her. It's not the first time she rescued a drunk.
At first the chap must think his luck is in. Let's face it any male would like to be grabbed by a girl in the street and carried home by her. Problems are firstly he's totally incapable and secondly there's me on L's other arm. He's very chatty. He's trying to stumble his way the fair distance to his Mother's place in Aspley. Says he's upset his mate who he was supposed to be staying with and for some reason, which I didn't catch, he isn't staying with the mother of his child. He even offers to pay us for safe passage home or buy us a pizza. If we'd been unscrupulous we could have made a nice little sum. As it is we escort him as far as we can.
Another 'uneventful' night out.
With all these happenings the run took us well over an hour. Although I do doubt the councils measuring skills. Knackered now.
Get home and settle down with the radio to hear Derby's game at Southampton. Should be an interesting encounter. George Burley doesn't normally bother picking a defence; Billy Davies doesn't pick an attack. Reckon our good run might end and it'll be a draw could be a 0-0 or hey who knows 4-4.
In the end it's all Southampton and it should be 4-0 to them but the all-new resilient Derby hang in there and it looks like it's going to finish up 0-0, which would be a good point for us. Then with seven minutes to go Steve Howard pops in the winner. 1-0 Derby. Game Over as they say. They've done it again. Still six points clear.
Doggo seems to be recovering after his ordeal. Might all work in his favour as L is considering reviewing the conditions of his ASBO. Although we fully expect his condition to take a dramatic turn for the worse the moment we try and head off to the pub without him.
Daughter is at a sleep over come party tonight. The Mother of the girl who is having the party must be mad. Loads of kids from 6.30, then a sleep over and then she's keeping them until noon the next day. She needs certifying.
There's an added twist because Daughter tells us that there's a rumour going round school that the girl's dad is having an affair. Well at least he won't have any problem finding something to occupy him if he needs to make himself scarce while the girls take over the house.
With Daughter gone, we head into to town, without Doggo, despite his efforts to join us. Better for him to rest up.
We stick our head into three pubs: - Falcon, Red Lion, and the Sir John Borlase Warren, to see if they have any beer worth popping in for. They haven't, so we end up in the Ropewalk as usual. Three Leffes later we decide to treat ourselves to a meal. Daughter has forbidden us from going for a meal without her but what she actually told us was not to go for a curry, so we go for a Thai instead.
The meal is very good, the best we've had there, and the others haven't been bad. Although we do seem to gatecrash a couple of birthday parties. This girl is celebrating her 22nd and a guy, who was your stereotypical gay, his 18th. Although not really, turns out she's 46 and he, well couldn't work out how old he was.
We have two bottles of Singa and then stagger home. Manage to avoid popping into Scruffys for a dark one. Ah, the will power.
On the way home we almost collide a couple of times with some chap who's had several too many. When he next lurches past us and almost onto the road L grabs hold of him. She does sometimes have this Good Samaritan streak in her. It's not the first time she rescued a drunk.
At first the chap must think his luck is in. Let's face it any male would like to be grabbed by a girl in the street and carried home by her. Problems are firstly he's totally incapable and secondly there's me on L's other arm. He's very chatty. He's trying to stumble his way the fair distance to his Mother's place in Aspley. Says he's upset his mate who he was supposed to be staying with and for some reason, which I didn't catch, he isn't staying with the mother of his child. He even offers to pay us for safe passage home or buy us a pizza. If we'd been unscrupulous we could have made a nice little sum. As it is we escort him as far as we can.
Another 'uneventful' night out.
Friday, 2 February 2007
ASBOed
Moved the alarm to 6.20, giving me an extra ten minutes to get back into my regular routine. Didn't work. Legs still knackered from Wednesday's cycling and last night's squash. Find I can't move at all. Then as a long pink tongue washes my face, Doggo's not L's, I realise this is because there's a great big hairy collie sat on me. Relief. I'm not paralysed after all.
Radio informs me that England as 200+ for 4 against Australia. I'm not paralysed but clearly I'm delirious.
Good ride in. No disasters. No near disasters. Bloody hard work though, always is when I cycle Wednesday rather than Tuesday. Didn’t see L and Humpalot, our shagaholic dog. Whom L has now barred from the bedroom. Oh dear, I don’t need to ask what he’s done... it'll be some inanimate object that he's shagged but no apparently the Clumber Duathlon entry forms that we need to fill in for our next bout of madness now have paw-prints all over them. It did occur to me as I left this morning that leaving those forms on the bed wasn’t a good idea. She says he now has a bedroom ASBO, which she's going to pin to his ears. Cool! Alongside his rosette?
Get to work and listen to the end of the cricket. At the 10th attempt, on this current tour, England finally beat Australia and in the end quite easily.
Go on the internet and buy tickets for Maximo Park in Nottingham. Daughter is desperate to go to a gig, any gig, but until she is 14 she can't get into any of the venues we go to. Plus we’d also have to sneak in a milk crate for her to stand on. Maximo Park come to Nottingham just two months before her 14th Birthday. I've just found out that one of her faves The Sunshine Underground are coming after that but still before her birthday. I’m afraid I'm going to have to go and she’ll probably kill me.
L's just read my blog and now she thinks she realises why I'm so very keen for her to go to the gym (see 31/01/07). Well she's off to the gym tonight, which is good because I'm cycling. Perversely she asks if we will be walking past the park gates on the way back from the pub tonight. You see! My theory about the gym is correct, just thinking about going is enough! But what does she mean 'on the way back'; I was thinking of on the way TO the pub. Either way it sounds like it could be an interesting evening.
Fairly uneventful ride home. Until I have to turn right at the Coventry Lane junction. I indicate right in plenty of time as I try and pull across the road for the traffic lights. Rather than wave me through the car behind me accelerates. Seems he’d rather drive over the top of me rather than risk the lights changing to red before he gets there. Nice.
Get home and L's prepared soup and homemade mini pizza's to perk me up after my ride. Bless. Seems I may need the energy boost because she has indeed been to the Gym.
A trip to the park gates proves unnecessary as, at long last, I get taken advantage of in my cycling shorts and Daughter only disturbs us once. Long live the Gym.
Afterwards we walk to Beeston with the ASBOed one. Now that I'm not driving, all the strong and dark beers that were on last night are now predictably off to be replaced by beers mainly with the word 'Gold' in the title. There are at least four of these on the bar. Not good. For some reason brewers now think that beers all must be 'golden' to sell, even in the depths of winter. In the good old days, summer beers looked like beer and winter beers looked like black treacle, now everything looks like lager.
Try two golden ones before going for the Stilton Porter, which is blissfully dark. If that doesn't hit the spot there's now dark Leffe which they've just started selling. Although I would feel a bit unpatriotic drinking that when there are other options available.
We sway our way home. Not just due to drunkenness; we have a dog with an erratic walking disorder. Daughter doesn't wait up so we don't get a rollicking for being late.
Radio informs me that England as 200+ for 4 against Australia. I'm not paralysed but clearly I'm delirious.
Good ride in. No disasters. No near disasters. Bloody hard work though, always is when I cycle Wednesday rather than Tuesday. Didn’t see L and Humpalot, our shagaholic dog. Whom L has now barred from the bedroom. Oh dear, I don’t need to ask what he’s done... it'll be some inanimate object that he's shagged but no apparently the Clumber Duathlon entry forms that we need to fill in for our next bout of madness now have paw-prints all over them. It did occur to me as I left this morning that leaving those forms on the bed wasn’t a good idea. She says he now has a bedroom ASBO, which she's going to pin to his ears. Cool! Alongside his rosette?
Get to work and listen to the end of the cricket. At the 10th attempt, on this current tour, England finally beat Australia and in the end quite easily.
Go on the internet and buy tickets for Maximo Park in Nottingham. Daughter is desperate to go to a gig, any gig, but until she is 14 she can't get into any of the venues we go to. Plus we’d also have to sneak in a milk crate for her to stand on. Maximo Park come to Nottingham just two months before her 14th Birthday. I've just found out that one of her faves The Sunshine Underground are coming after that but still before her birthday. I’m afraid I'm going to have to go and she’ll probably kill me.
L's just read my blog and now she thinks she realises why I'm so very keen for her to go to the gym (see 31/01/07). Well she's off to the gym tonight, which is good because I'm cycling. Perversely she asks if we will be walking past the park gates on the way back from the pub tonight. You see! My theory about the gym is correct, just thinking about going is enough! But what does she mean 'on the way back'; I was thinking of on the way TO the pub. Either way it sounds like it could be an interesting evening.
Fairly uneventful ride home. Until I have to turn right at the Coventry Lane junction. I indicate right in plenty of time as I try and pull across the road for the traffic lights. Rather than wave me through the car behind me accelerates. Seems he’d rather drive over the top of me rather than risk the lights changing to red before he gets there. Nice.
Get home and L's prepared soup and homemade mini pizza's to perk me up after my ride. Bless. Seems I may need the energy boost because she has indeed been to the Gym.
A trip to the park gates proves unnecessary as, at long last, I get taken advantage of in my cycling shorts and Daughter only disturbs us once. Long live the Gym.
Afterwards we walk to Beeston with the ASBOed one. Now that I'm not driving, all the strong and dark beers that were on last night are now predictably off to be replaced by beers mainly with the word 'Gold' in the title. There are at least four of these on the bar. Not good. For some reason brewers now think that beers all must be 'golden' to sell, even in the depths of winter. In the good old days, summer beers looked like beer and winter beers looked like black treacle, now everything looks like lager.
Try two golden ones before going for the Stilton Porter, which is blissfully dark. If that doesn't hit the spot there's now dark Leffe which they've just started selling. Although I would feel a bit unpatriotic drinking that when there are other options available.
We sway our way home. Not just due to drunkenness; we have a dog with an erratic walking disorder. Daughter doesn't wait up so we don't get a rollicking for being late.
Thursday, 1 February 2007
Hot And Spicy
Came in the car again today. Traffic was ok but I went through Ilkeston again, it’s less stressful that way.
L says I look looked very tired both last night and this morning. Suppose I do feel a bit washed out. Don’t know why, had an easy week really. Not been eating very healthily though. I just haven’t had time to eat anything sensible or perhaps it's just this new version of L that's too much for an old man like me. Doubt my opponent will take it easy with me at squash tonight.
No pub today. Kitchen being refitted. So didn't get my cottage pie and had to make do with a beef salad baguette, on white bread I’m afraid and two bananas. Hope my squash doesn’t suffer.
Did you know that squash is another of those sports that, like cycling, the British excel at, yet no one seems to notice. Half the players in the world top 20, both male and female, are British. Our top player Peter Nicol was number one in the world rankings for five years, and won every international squash tournament that there is. Can you imagine the reaction if one of our tennis players, such as Tim Henman, achieved anything like that? He would have become a national god. Yet Nicol is still unknown.
The British public are routinely thrown into frenzy over the smallest success in sports such as football and cricket. Obviously the BBC's Sports Personality of the year awards didn't give a single mention to squash.
Anyhow whinge over, on to tonight's game. I managed to inflict an injury on my opponent, in the warm-up. Which is quite an achievement. Well if he will get in the way, what's does he expect? Game didn't go well. He got his serve in to a rhythm and I just couldn’t break him out of it. He rattled off five games in a row. Although in one of them I led 14-11 and then I served the ball out. A fatal mistake. I lost the game 20-18 in the end. Quite an epic I suppose. Finally won the last game. So it finished 5-1. He was gutted to lose the last one and was depressed all evening in the pub afterwards. Makes it all worthwhile.
Pint of Hop Back Entire Stout 4.4% Very nice. No 'circumstantial events' behind the bar tonight.
Get home and my own special sexual fantasy girl serves up an outstanding spicy three-bean chilli and then dishes up something equally hot and fiery in the bedroom for dessert.
L says I look looked very tired both last night and this morning. Suppose I do feel a bit washed out. Don’t know why, had an easy week really. Not been eating very healthily though. I just haven’t had time to eat anything sensible or perhaps it's just this new version of L that's too much for an old man like me. Doubt my opponent will take it easy with me at squash tonight.
No pub today. Kitchen being refitted. So didn't get my cottage pie and had to make do with a beef salad baguette, on white bread I’m afraid and two bananas. Hope my squash doesn’t suffer.
Did you know that squash is another of those sports that, like cycling, the British excel at, yet no one seems to notice. Half the players in the world top 20, both male and female, are British. Our top player Peter Nicol was number one in the world rankings for five years, and won every international squash tournament that there is. Can you imagine the reaction if one of our tennis players, such as Tim Henman, achieved anything like that? He would have become a national god. Yet Nicol is still unknown.
The British public are routinely thrown into frenzy over the smallest success in sports such as football and cricket. Obviously the BBC's Sports Personality of the year awards didn't give a single mention to squash.
Anyhow whinge over, on to tonight's game. I managed to inflict an injury on my opponent, in the warm-up. Which is quite an achievement. Well if he will get in the way, what's does he expect? Game didn't go well. He got his serve in to a rhythm and I just couldn’t break him out of it. He rattled off five games in a row. Although in one of them I led 14-11 and then I served the ball out. A fatal mistake. I lost the game 20-18 in the end. Quite an epic I suppose. Finally won the last game. So it finished 5-1. He was gutted to lose the last one and was depressed all evening in the pub afterwards. Makes it all worthwhile.
Pint of Hop Back Entire Stout 4.4% Very nice. No 'circumstantial events' behind the bar tonight.
Get home and my own special sexual fantasy girl serves up an outstanding spicy three-bean chilli and then dishes up something equally hot and fiery in the bedroom for dessert.
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