On my bike today and I'm trying out a new ‘sports drink’, well I've put caramel syrup in my hot coffee, I’m sure it’ll be disgusting but I thought it was worth a go. Unfortunately the weather isn't really cold enough to warrant it but I suppose you can't have everything. It was better than just coffee but it still tasted of plastic thanks to my drinks bottle. Caramel flavoured plastic with a hit of coffee, yum yum, Costa Coffee will be beating my door down for the recipe. L reckons a splash of rum would be far better. I’m sure it would be but I'm not sure she'd be sending me on my way with her usual words of 'have a safe cycle' if I did.
Cracking stuff from our Government. It's absolutely hilarious or it would be if it wasn't so serious. HM Revenue and Customs have lost two DVD computer discs containing the entire child benefit records. This includes the names, addresses, dates of birth, National Insurance numbers, and bank account details of 25 million people. Whoops. They were sent out in the internal mail from Newcastle but never arrived in London. They've not said if the Royal Mail were involved but if they were, then everyone can breathe a sign of relief because the disks will never be found.
Rain is forecast from around 11am but it doesn't arrive until around 3pm. By the time I cycle home it's getting quite heavy. Well at least I get chance to try out my new rubber booties. One thing I find out is that they don't work well with my thermal socks. I get seriously hot feet and get home to find that my shoes are wetter on the inside than on the outside. Ugh.
I don't take Doggo out for our planned run, partly because I don't want to dry off only to get cold and wet again but also because he's hiding in the bedroom anyway, as he clearly has no wish to go out in the rain. He's probably still traumatised by his walk at the weekend.
L gets home soon after me, just a little too late to help with the wet lycra removal. She's looking pretty damp herself and very fetching with it. I drag her into the bedroom and pay homage. Resistance is minimal.
I cook 'posh' spam curry and while it's cooking I take out Doggo for a walk, as it's now stopped raining and he has emerged from his hiding place. He really takes the Mickey by supplying three dumps for me to pick up. The second is as huge as the first and he stands by it grinning at me. I wasn’t even convinced the second one was his but it was still warm, I can't see any other dogs, so I suppose it must be his.
After the curry, we indulge in a bit more bleak, Bleak house that is.
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Monday, 19 November 2007
Shock Horror, We Watch Some TV
I wake up and realise that L has been wearing pyjamas all night. A tad provocative and with predicable results.
It's Monday, so it's the car today. The traffic is awful but not too bad, I expected worse.
L's fed up; the post weekend away blues this time rather than the odious beast. She's obviously missing our wet tent and the wet dog that comes with it. That 'wet' dog has had a traumatic morning, mixing it with a JCB, a lorry and a skip lorry, all on the park. All his favourite things together, not. If only a bus had been there too.
Son managed to miss doing his paper round at the weekend, on both days that we were away. Claims he was on time on Saturday but admits he was very late on Sunday. L says he wasn't exactly on time this morning, so we expected to see him unemployed by tonight but apparently no, he's managed to cling on to the job.
One of our favourite haunts, Broadway Cinema, is getting far too much publicity. Apparently Total Film magazine has included it on its list of the best cinemas in the world. Consequently if we now want a pre-film meal there we’re going to have to turn up several hours early to beat the rush.
The place does warrant all the plaudits it gets. Derby take note, this is what Quad has to be like if they want to make a success of it but I'm not holding my breath. The cafe bar is central to Broadway's success and the one at Quad looks very much like a not very well thought out afterthought to me.
The Broadway building dates all the way back to 1839, when it was a Wesleyan Methodist Church. In the 1950's Nottingham Co-operative Society bought the building and the upper floor became home to a new film society. By 1966, they began screening films three days a week. It was the first regional film theatre to open in the UK.
Several revamps have followed:- it became Broadway in 1990, screen two opened in 1992, the café bar a year later, then in 2006 screens three and four were added, one of them designed by Broadway regular, Sir Paul Smith.
In the evening its dog class, which moves at a snails pace tonight, or should that be a grey collie's pace, so we overrun. End up coming out fifteen minutes late, our trainer is getting as bad at time-keeping as Daughter's Guides leader. So I'm late collecting L again.
L cooks up some Chinese chicken and then, shock horror, we watch some TV. A programme on cholesterol pills. Doesn't really tell us anything new, the basic message is don't take pills unless it's the last resort. Which should be the case with all medication, I can't imagine why anyone would want to do anything different.
It's Monday, so it's the car today. The traffic is awful but not too bad, I expected worse.
L's fed up; the post weekend away blues this time rather than the odious beast. She's obviously missing our wet tent and the wet dog that comes with it. That 'wet' dog has had a traumatic morning, mixing it with a JCB, a lorry and a skip lorry, all on the park. All his favourite things together, not. If only a bus had been there too.
Son managed to miss doing his paper round at the weekend, on both days that we were away. Claims he was on time on Saturday but admits he was very late on Sunday. L says he wasn't exactly on time this morning, so we expected to see him unemployed by tonight but apparently no, he's managed to cling on to the job.
One of our favourite haunts, Broadway Cinema, is getting far too much publicity. Apparently Total Film magazine has included it on its list of the best cinemas in the world. Consequently if we now want a pre-film meal there we’re going to have to turn up several hours early to beat the rush.
The place does warrant all the plaudits it gets. Derby take note, this is what Quad has to be like if they want to make a success of it but I'm not holding my breath. The cafe bar is central to Broadway's success and the one at Quad looks very much like a not very well thought out afterthought to me.
The Broadway building dates all the way back to 1839, when it was a Wesleyan Methodist Church. In the 1950's Nottingham Co-operative Society bought the building and the upper floor became home to a new film society. By 1966, they began screening films three days a week. It was the first regional film theatre to open in the UK.
Several revamps have followed:- it became Broadway in 1990, screen two opened in 1992, the café bar a year later, then in 2006 screens three and four were added, one of them designed by Broadway regular, Sir Paul Smith.
In the evening its dog class, which moves at a snails pace tonight, or should that be a grey collie's pace, so we overrun. End up coming out fifteen minutes late, our trainer is getting as bad at time-keeping as Daughter's Guides leader. So I'm late collecting L again.
L cooks up some Chinese chicken and then, shock horror, we watch some TV. A programme on cholesterol pills. Doesn't really tell us anything new, the basic message is don't take pills unless it's the last resort. Which should be the case with all medication, I can't imagine why anyone would want to do anything different.
Sunday, 18 November 2007
Sitting Out The Storm
Perfect camping weather, it is howling a gale outside. The wind is buffeting the tent, I realise that I've pitched tent at the wrong angle, and the rain is lashing down. L would call it romantic.
We have also camped in a bit of a wet spot but I think we're going to be all right, I could do without the wet dog in the tent though. Oh and I wake up in the middle of the night, fearing I'm suffocating. Either a Russian frogman is trying to slit my throat or my sinuses are all bunged up.
In the interests of the romantic setting, I don't fight L off, despite the fact she had garlic mushrooms last night, and in any case we have to sit out the storm. Doggo is keeping a very low profile, he doesn’t intend going out in that rain again, if he can possibly help it.
We eventually emerge around 11am, once the rain has stopped. After a reviving shower, I discover that my hangover isn't as bad as I thought.
We drive to Hawkshead, to a pub where we have stayed before, where we intend to have lunch. Two years ago, we stopped there with Doggo in the room and ate with him in the bar. The new owners, probably a pub group, now ban dogs from rooms and from the bar area before 9.30pm. The landlady is out on the steps having a cigarette and in the interests of needing some customers; she relaxes the rules for us. The roast lamb is good as is the Cocker Hoop ale. Shame about the anti-dog stance, this is the Lakes for God's sake, dog ownership is practically compulsory.
Around 3.30, revived, we head for home. Obviously there is a hold up on the motorway because there always is and then it starts snowing on us. It gets quite heavy at one point. This is really annoying, why couldn't it have snowed when we wanted it to, last night while we were in Lakeland. I text Daughter to tell her we’ll be late picking her up. She’s not happy because she’ll now be late for her 8pm date with Richard Hammond.
Back home we lounge in the bath for a while then share a huge Cumberland sausage that we’ve brought back with us and a couple of glasses of red wine.
We watch another episode of Bleak House. In this episode, the character Krook, played by Johnny Vegas, dies in rather unusual circumstances. Dickens, when he wrote this part of the story, was severely criticized for using spontaneous human combustion to kill off Krook. It was at that time thought a plausible way to die, but even so Dickens was accused of perpetuating a vulgar and unscientific superstition. Dickens himself claimed to know of many documented cases.
37 units. It was the Old Peculier’s fault.
We have also camped in a bit of a wet spot but I think we're going to be all right, I could do without the wet dog in the tent though. Oh and I wake up in the middle of the night, fearing I'm suffocating. Either a Russian frogman is trying to slit my throat or my sinuses are all bunged up.
In the interests of the romantic setting, I don't fight L off, despite the fact she had garlic mushrooms last night, and in any case we have to sit out the storm. Doggo is keeping a very low profile, he doesn’t intend going out in that rain again, if he can possibly help it.
We eventually emerge around 11am, once the rain has stopped. After a reviving shower, I discover that my hangover isn't as bad as I thought.
We drive to Hawkshead, to a pub where we have stayed before, where we intend to have lunch. Two years ago, we stopped there with Doggo in the room and ate with him in the bar. The new owners, probably a pub group, now ban dogs from rooms and from the bar area before 9.30pm. The landlady is out on the steps having a cigarette and in the interests of needing some customers; she relaxes the rules for us. The roast lamb is good as is the Cocker Hoop ale. Shame about the anti-dog stance, this is the Lakes for God's sake, dog ownership is practically compulsory.
Around 3.30, revived, we head for home. Obviously there is a hold up on the motorway because there always is and then it starts snowing on us. It gets quite heavy at one point. This is really annoying, why couldn't it have snowed when we wanted it to, last night while we were in Lakeland. I text Daughter to tell her we’ll be late picking her up. She’s not happy because she’ll now be late for her 8pm date with Richard Hammond.
Back home we lounge in the bath for a while then share a huge Cumberland sausage that we’ve brought back with us and a couple of glasses of red wine.
We watch another episode of Bleak House. In this episode, the character Krook, played by Johnny Vegas, dies in rather unusual circumstances. Dickens, when he wrote this part of the story, was severely criticized for using spontaneous human combustion to kill off Krook. It was at that time thought a plausible way to die, but even so Dickens was accused of perpetuating a vulgar and unscientific superstition. Dickens himself claimed to know of many documented cases.
37 units. It was the Old Peculier’s fault.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Underhand Tactics
I needn't have worried about having to wake L. I set the alarm for 5.30am and all three of us are awoken by it but L physically prevents me getting up, employing some seriously underhand tactics that are as unexpected as they are effective. In the end its 6.40 when we get up, we are on the road an hour later and still make the Lakes in good time. We find a spot to pitch the tent, which isn't easy as the site is very busy. Then we have some hot soup for lunch and go out walking in the valley.
We get slightly lost as ever but that just adds to the experience. The weather though takes a turn for the worst and it starts to rain. It's a good job we haven't gone onto to the fells as the hills have now 'disappeared'.
The trouble with walking in Winter is that it gets dark very early which not only curtails the walking but usually lands us in a pub far too early for our own good. In this case, around 4.30. Doggo is mightily relieved to get out of the rain and promptly shakes himself over a couple who were probably having a romantic moment until a wet dog spoilt it for them.
We have a 'hot' chocolate each to postpone the take up of beer but as with the trend for coffee, they are not remotely hot and have to be drunk more or less straight down. So beer is still taken far too early. I take a wild punt on Thwaites Flying Shuttle 4.6% and bingo, good choice, its dark. It’s also very nice, smooth and nutty like a Stout.
After just one we move down the road, which means another mile or more to walk. Doggo is not at all keen to be dragged out in the rain again. At the next pub it starts to get serious, Old Peculier at 5.6%, this is why we are here. Very nice, I recklessly have three and a Tag Lag 4.4%, to dilute it.
We also eat here. Potato wedges as a starter, which are actually chips and an excellent chilli for main course. Oh and a sticky toffee pudding, just to soak the beer up.
We have the usual problems getting hold of the kids to check they are still alive, not helped by the absence of mobile reception and L's dodgy phone. Daughter isn't too hard to track down but it takes about ten rings on the pay phone at the pub to finally get a response from Son.
It's the penultimate round of qualifiers for the 2008 European Championships today and amazingly Israel beat Russia 2-1 and Macedonia beat Croatia 2-0 to do England a major favour. Meaning failure is once more back in their own hands, when they play Croatia on Wednesday.
We get slightly lost as ever but that just adds to the experience. The weather though takes a turn for the worst and it starts to rain. It's a good job we haven't gone onto to the fells as the hills have now 'disappeared'.
The trouble with walking in Winter is that it gets dark very early which not only curtails the walking but usually lands us in a pub far too early for our own good. In this case, around 4.30. Doggo is mightily relieved to get out of the rain and promptly shakes himself over a couple who were probably having a romantic moment until a wet dog spoilt it for them.
We have a 'hot' chocolate each to postpone the take up of beer but as with the trend for coffee, they are not remotely hot and have to be drunk more or less straight down. So beer is still taken far too early. I take a wild punt on Thwaites Flying Shuttle 4.6% and bingo, good choice, its dark. It’s also very nice, smooth and nutty like a Stout.
After just one we move down the road, which means another mile or more to walk. Doggo is not at all keen to be dragged out in the rain again. At the next pub it starts to get serious, Old Peculier at 5.6%, this is why we are here. Very nice, I recklessly have three and a Tag Lag 4.4%, to dilute it.
We also eat here. Potato wedges as a starter, which are actually chips and an excellent chilli for main course. Oh and a sticky toffee pudding, just to soak the beer up.
We have the usual problems getting hold of the kids to check they are still alive, not helped by the absence of mobile reception and L's dodgy phone. Daughter isn't too hard to track down but it takes about ten rings on the pay phone at the pub to finally get a response from Son.
It's the penultimate round of qualifiers for the 2008 European Championships today and amazingly Israel beat Russia 2-1 and Macedonia beat Croatia 2-0 to do England a major favour. Meaning failure is once more back in their own hands, when they play Croatia on Wednesday.
Friday, 16 November 2007
Nippy Enough To Make A Collie Frisky
It's cold again this morning but not freezing, probably just about nippy enough to make a collie frisky but not much more than that. As usual my legs are cold for about the first mile or so but after that they're fine. My sports drink is probably a bit too cold for the conditions though and makes me wince about when I have a swig from it.
I cycle past several schools on the way and they are all on a dress down day, so I assume today must be Children In Need day. Although Daughter's school had their dress down day last week but I think that's just their way of getting out of giving all the money to the charity.
It's quite a coincidence that in the same week that L has been enjoying swimming with his ghost, Lionel 'Buster' Crabb is back in the news. A Russian former frogman has claimed that he was the man who cut Buster's throat all those years ago. He still doesn't make it any clearer as to whether the body they found was Crabb or not.
I cycle home. L is at the gym, confusing her female imagery. Daughter has apparently bottled out of joining her, citing wet feet as the reason. I don't know, the kids of today, they just don't take advantage of modern technology. A towel, clean dry socks, and a change of shoes and off you go.
I get home and do some packing. The dog show is off, thanks to the Post Office but we've decided to go to the Lakes anyway. Daughter has 'shopping plans' on Saturday, so we don't go as we would have preferred on the Friday but instead we will aim to leave early Saturday morning.
This leaves us with the dilemma of what to do tonight. I don’t want to get too slaughtered if we’re getting up early but I suppose a pint or three wouldn’t hurt. The big worry is what time I need to get L to bed in order to get her up early tomorrow. Whatever time, it'll be a tough job.
The trip to the pub was well worth it. Three Farmers Stout. 4.5%
I cycle past several schools on the way and they are all on a dress down day, so I assume today must be Children In Need day. Although Daughter's school had their dress down day last week but I think that's just their way of getting out of giving all the money to the charity.
It's quite a coincidence that in the same week that L has been enjoying swimming with his ghost, Lionel 'Buster' Crabb is back in the news. A Russian former frogman has claimed that he was the man who cut Buster's throat all those years ago. He still doesn't make it any clearer as to whether the body they found was Crabb or not.
I cycle home. L is at the gym, confusing her female imagery. Daughter has apparently bottled out of joining her, citing wet feet as the reason. I don't know, the kids of today, they just don't take advantage of modern technology. A towel, clean dry socks, and a change of shoes and off you go.
I get home and do some packing. The dog show is off, thanks to the Post Office but we've decided to go to the Lakes anyway. Daughter has 'shopping plans' on Saturday, so we don't go as we would have preferred on the Friday but instead we will aim to leave early Saturday morning.
This leaves us with the dilemma of what to do tonight. I don’t want to get too slaughtered if we’re getting up early but I suppose a pint or three wouldn’t hurt. The big worry is what time I need to get L to bed in order to get her up early tomorrow. Whatever time, it'll be a tough job.
The trip to the pub was well worth it. Three Farmers Stout. 4.5%
Thursday, 15 November 2007
Conflicting Images Of Femininity
What wonderful weather this morning, three degrees below zero and sunny. It would have been a cracking cycle in. Would you believe that some people are bemoaning the cold and longing for the return of summer. Did I miss something here, they're longing for the return of that wet, miserable period a few months back? Give me winter any day, preferably with six-foot high snowdrifts but now I'm just dreaming.
I take the bus, no squash tonight but I'm still resting my legs. Don't want to be subject to any more embarrassing overtaking moves by the over 60's.
As I walk to catch the bus I spot in the distance a grey dog lurching from house to house with a person attached to it. Ah, that must be L and Doggo on the papers. One downside of the cold is that it makes Doggo incredibly frisky and it looks like he's giving L a good workout this morning.
Lots of 'crap' in the papers today. The exercise issue is in the news again. They say that 80% of women are not doing enough exercise to be healthy. Despite the fact that women feel under incredible pressure to be thin, they say they hate the way they look when they exercise and say it 'conflicts with their image of femininity', so they don't do it. Which doesn't tally with the fact that most men think women look dead sexy when they exercise. Their loss. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, as they say.
Mind you, someone who did get on his bike and do some exercise has been sentenced to three years on probation. A chap was caught in the 'act' with his bicycle by cleaners in his bedroom at the Aberley House Hostel in Ayr. They knocked on his door but there was no reply, so they let themselves in with the master key. They discovered the chap in a compromising position with his bike. Now he's been charged with sexually aggravated breach of the peace and been placed on the Sex Offenders Register. Perverse yes but surely what you get up to in your own room is your own business. Would he have ended up in court had he been doing it with a real person? It must have been a carbon frame.
Another royal cock-up by my good friends at the Royal Mail means my entry for Saturday's dog show hasn’t been delivered. So that's stuffed our weekend. We were planning to go to the show at Preston and then carry on up to the Lakes for the rest of the weekend. L's even been out and bought three bottles of mulled wine to ward off the cold, one red, one white and one AF. We're tempted to go anyway and just do the Lakes. Think we'll leave the AF one at home though.
When I get home, Daughter and L have gone off to the gym. I ought to run, so I take Doggo for a spin round the pond. It ends up more interesting than I intended. I put gloves on and when I attempt to scratch my eye, I miss. In the process I dislodge a contact lens which promptly disappears up my eye somewhere. Running round the pond in the dark by torch light with only one eye working is very disorientating. Eventually I manage to jiggle the lens back into the centre of my eye and thankfully full vision is restored.
At home L cooks up some very nice trout with mushroom ragout, which has sherry in it and she pours me a stonking glass of the sherry that is left over and a glass of red wine as well. So another fairly boozy night. Then we enjoy a double dose of Bleak House and post-watershed afters.
I take the bus, no squash tonight but I'm still resting my legs. Don't want to be subject to any more embarrassing overtaking moves by the over 60's.
As I walk to catch the bus I spot in the distance a grey dog lurching from house to house with a person attached to it. Ah, that must be L and Doggo on the papers. One downside of the cold is that it makes Doggo incredibly frisky and it looks like he's giving L a good workout this morning.
Lots of 'crap' in the papers today. The exercise issue is in the news again. They say that 80% of women are not doing enough exercise to be healthy. Despite the fact that women feel under incredible pressure to be thin, they say they hate the way they look when they exercise and say it 'conflicts with their image of femininity', so they don't do it. Which doesn't tally with the fact that most men think women look dead sexy when they exercise. Their loss. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, as they say.
Mind you, someone who did get on his bike and do some exercise has been sentenced to three years on probation. A chap was caught in the 'act' with his bicycle by cleaners in his bedroom at the Aberley House Hostel in Ayr. They knocked on his door but there was no reply, so they let themselves in with the master key. They discovered the chap in a compromising position with his bike. Now he's been charged with sexually aggravated breach of the peace and been placed on the Sex Offenders Register. Perverse yes but surely what you get up to in your own room is your own business. Would he have ended up in court had he been doing it with a real person? It must have been a carbon frame.
Another royal cock-up by my good friends at the Royal Mail means my entry for Saturday's dog show hasn’t been delivered. So that's stuffed our weekend. We were planning to go to the show at Preston and then carry on up to the Lakes for the rest of the weekend. L's even been out and bought three bottles of mulled wine to ward off the cold, one red, one white and one AF. We're tempted to go anyway and just do the Lakes. Think we'll leave the AF one at home though.
When I get home, Daughter and L have gone off to the gym. I ought to run, so I take Doggo for a spin round the pond. It ends up more interesting than I intended. I put gloves on and when I attempt to scratch my eye, I miss. In the process I dislodge a contact lens which promptly disappears up my eye somewhere. Running round the pond in the dark by torch light with only one eye working is very disorientating. Eventually I manage to jiggle the lens back into the centre of my eye and thankfully full vision is restored.
At home L cooks up some very nice trout with mushroom ragout, which has sherry in it and she pours me a stonking glass of the sherry that is left over and a glass of red wine as well. So another fairly boozy night. Then we enjoy a double dose of Bleak House and post-watershed afters.
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
Porsche Trouble
I ride in again but it doesn’t go quite as stormin' as yesterday, I think L did me in last night, although she prefers to blame the dog. Well at least I'm in the clear. I must have been tired because I got overtaken again, someone from the Sherwood Cycling Club, which wouldn't normally be of concern but he appeared to be from the Sherwood Cycling Club Over 60's Branch. You see they're all fitter than me.
I have more problems on the way home when some wide boy in a silver Porsche skims past me with millimetres to spare. I know his game he's trying to put a stripe down my pedals with his paintwork. He'd better not, my pedals were expensive, at least £30 and a Christmas present from L. He'd got one of those dyslexic number plates on his car. I think it used to be 'C42 ISP' or something like that but he's rearrange it, moved the screws around and now I think he's trying to tell me his name is 'CHRIS P' but no matter how hard I squint at it, it still looks like it says 'TWAT 1' to me.
I cycle to the pool and do my swim. I have to battle with a chap who's doing lengths totally non-stop and very fast. I have to keep stopping to let him past. I consider moving into the next lane but I recognise the female psycho in that lane doing a similar thing, I've learnt not to mess with her. Then the annoying chap from last week gets in, the one who waits for me to start swimming then comes past me. I'm not in the mood for that sort of game so I get out immediately. I notice non-stop guy gets out soon after me.
L is in the gym and I give her a wave as I leave. She looks very 'fit' on the cross-country skiing machine, or whatever it's called, is that the 'cross trainer'?
L's already suggested that I meet her after yoga and that we go for a pint in the Plough but we probably ought to stay AF, as we didn’t abstain on Sunday. Also I had planned to run Doggo and meet Daughter from Guides at the same time, I also don’t want to doze off during Bleak House. Mind you cycle, swim, run... it’s going to be tough staying awake after all that anyway...
In the end Daughter doesn't go to Guides, so I turn Doggo's run into a walk and to our surprise we end up meeting L from yoga and yes we end up in the Plough. Two Supremes and a Legend, not good for a Wednesday.
Back home, our first film from our new cheaper, pay as you go, DVD club has arrived. It's called Easycinema and is ran by the EasyJet people or rather it's not because everything is stamped Lovefilm. Bugger and I thought we'd dumped them.
We don't risk Bleak House and after some slag (food that is, fish fingers, eggs and beans) we retire to bed, where it's my turn to be lively, so I'm told.
I have more problems on the way home when some wide boy in a silver Porsche skims past me with millimetres to spare. I know his game he's trying to put a stripe down my pedals with his paintwork. He'd better not, my pedals were expensive, at least £30 and a Christmas present from L. He'd got one of those dyslexic number plates on his car. I think it used to be 'C42 ISP' or something like that but he's rearrange it, moved the screws around and now I think he's trying to tell me his name is 'CHRIS P' but no matter how hard I squint at it, it still looks like it says 'TWAT 1' to me.
I cycle to the pool and do my swim. I have to battle with a chap who's doing lengths totally non-stop and very fast. I have to keep stopping to let him past. I consider moving into the next lane but I recognise the female psycho in that lane doing a similar thing, I've learnt not to mess with her. Then the annoying chap from last week gets in, the one who waits for me to start swimming then comes past me. I'm not in the mood for that sort of game so I get out immediately. I notice non-stop guy gets out soon after me.
L is in the gym and I give her a wave as I leave. She looks very 'fit' on the cross-country skiing machine, or whatever it's called, is that the 'cross trainer'?
L's already suggested that I meet her after yoga and that we go for a pint in the Plough but we probably ought to stay AF, as we didn’t abstain on Sunday. Also I had planned to run Doggo and meet Daughter from Guides at the same time, I also don’t want to doze off during Bleak House. Mind you cycle, swim, run... it’s going to be tough staying awake after all that anyway...
In the end Daughter doesn't go to Guides, so I turn Doggo's run into a walk and to our surprise we end up meeting L from yoga and yes we end up in the Plough. Two Supremes and a Legend, not good for a Wednesday.
Back home, our first film from our new cheaper, pay as you go, DVD club has arrived. It's called Easycinema and is ran by the EasyJet people or rather it's not because everything is stamped Lovefilm. Bugger and I thought we'd dumped them.
We don't risk Bleak House and after some slag (food that is, fish fingers, eggs and beans) we retire to bed, where it's my turn to be lively, so I'm told.
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
Enjoying the View
On bike. It's not as cold this morning, there's a bit of rain in the air but it's not too bad. I had a hot coffee from my flask in Sandiacre, warming though this is; I'm still not convinced it's an ideal drink for cycling. There's a bit left in my flask but by Borrowash it's getting a bit cold. Unfortunately as I slow down to glug the last few drops someone has the nerve to overtake me. Naturally I give chase and catch them up but before I can get my own back they turn off. Typical.
Controversy at Derby County and I don't mean the appalling quality of the football. The club mascot, Rammie, a chap called Dean Mottram, has been 'relieved of his duties' after 17 years in the job. According to the club, it follows a row over how aspects of his role were funded. Dean, who's now 40, which is an excellent age to be, started the job in 1990 before becoming the football league's first full-time mascot in 1996. There will be a replacement but it won't be the same.
L's been swimming with Buster again, although apparently I've been blogging about the wrong Buster Crabbe. I should have been writing about Lionel Crabb (no 'e'), who gained the nickname 'Buster', in honour of the other Buster Crabbe, the one I did blog about. Confusing eh?
This Crabb is actually more intriguing. In 1956 he dived into Portsmouth Harbour, supposedly on a MI6 undercover mission and was never seen again. Well until 14 months later, when a body in a frogman suit was found floating off Pilsey Island. The body though was missing its head and both hands. Neither, Crabb's ex-wife nor his girlfriend were able to confirm whether it was or wasn't actually him. So they obviously didn't know him that well! I would hope L would be able to identify my body in such circumstances e.g. if I ever do an open-water swim and it all goes pear-shaped.
I cycle home and then L joins Doggo and me for a run around the pond, doing our new route. It shocks L that I've actually changed my route, Doggo and I are both creatures of habit when it comes to running. Well Doggo is a creature of habit with everything.
L tells me that the other day on my blog I made life sound like a pint. Well it is, isn’t it? You either see life as a glass half empty or a glass half full but whatever your preference it's better off drunk. She says I used to say life was a game of football, in my young and impetuous days. Hmmm. Football’s not even a game of football these days and is she implying that I'm not impetuous anymore? Wait till I get her home.
Unfortunately my life is more of a triathlon these days, e.g. bloody frustrating. A triathlon though, according to L, is a jog with the occasional nice view. Hmmm, that's simplistic view but she's right about the occasional nice view. Unfortunately it usually finishes ahead of me, except tonight when she's behind me, all that's ahead of me is the collie.
I cook up a Keema, which is rather good, if I do say so myself. Then we plough on with Bleak House, without wine, which is a bit of a challenge. Bleak House is actually rather good, although I am tired and we only manage one episode. Despite being tired I do feel that I've sussed the plot and its only episode four.
The tiredness induces an early night, thankfully L's more lively than me, must be all that swimming kicking in, which leaves me free to enjoy the nice view.
Controversy at Derby County and I don't mean the appalling quality of the football. The club mascot, Rammie, a chap called Dean Mottram, has been 'relieved of his duties' after 17 years in the job. According to the club, it follows a row over how aspects of his role were funded. Dean, who's now 40, which is an excellent age to be, started the job in 1990 before becoming the football league's first full-time mascot in 1996. There will be a replacement but it won't be the same.
L's been swimming with Buster again, although apparently I've been blogging about the wrong Buster Crabbe. I should have been writing about Lionel Crabb (no 'e'), who gained the nickname 'Buster', in honour of the other Buster Crabbe, the one I did blog about. Confusing eh?
This Crabb is actually more intriguing. In 1956 he dived into Portsmouth Harbour, supposedly on a MI6 undercover mission and was never seen again. Well until 14 months later, when a body in a frogman suit was found floating off Pilsey Island. The body though was missing its head and both hands. Neither, Crabb's ex-wife nor his girlfriend were able to confirm whether it was or wasn't actually him. So they obviously didn't know him that well! I would hope L would be able to identify my body in such circumstances e.g. if I ever do an open-water swim and it all goes pear-shaped.
I cycle home and then L joins Doggo and me for a run around the pond, doing our new route. It shocks L that I've actually changed my route, Doggo and I are both creatures of habit when it comes to running. Well Doggo is a creature of habit with everything.
L tells me that the other day on my blog I made life sound like a pint. Well it is, isn’t it? You either see life as a glass half empty or a glass half full but whatever your preference it's better off drunk. She says I used to say life was a game of football, in my young and impetuous days. Hmmm. Football’s not even a game of football these days and is she implying that I'm not impetuous anymore? Wait till I get her home.
Unfortunately my life is more of a triathlon these days, e.g. bloody frustrating. A triathlon though, according to L, is a jog with the occasional nice view. Hmmm, that's simplistic view but she's right about the occasional nice view. Unfortunately it usually finishes ahead of me, except tonight when she's behind me, all that's ahead of me is the collie.
I cook up a Keema, which is rather good, if I do say so myself. Then we plough on with Bleak House, without wine, which is a bit of a challenge. Bleak House is actually rather good, although I am tired and we only manage one episode. Despite being tired I do feel that I've sussed the plot and its only episode four.
The tiredness induces an early night, thankfully L's more lively than me, must be all that swimming kicking in, which leaves me free to enjoy the nice view.
Monday, 12 November 2007
Exercise Is Good For You
I get a rare 'good' morning from L on the email; this is apparently because the scales are down this morning. There seems to be a 'competition' going on at her work and she is now four pounds ahead. The red wine and curry diet is obviously working well. Her opponent is apparently gutted, L appears elated. L keeps telling me that she hasn't go a competitive bone in her body. Hmmmm. Who needs squash eh?
The gardeners around here at work have carpeted over all the flowerbeds and then pulled the plants through holes in the carpet. Why do they do this? There must be a reason. It is to protect them from frost or are they going to put mulch over the top. I don't know but it looks crap at the moment.
From today's papers, exercise is good for you, particularly if you're a man and it's your partner who's doing it. Women who exercise at least five times a week have the best sex lives. The gym is good but cycling is better, women who cycle, are twice as 'active' as those who don't but that’s obvious, it's because they're ogling us male cyclists with our muscles clad in clinging lycra. Swimming though is the best thing, a swimmer in their forties is as rampant as a twenty year old. That reminds me, I must finishing writing that training schedule for L.
Dog class goes well. The trainer sets ups a typical 2007 style Grade 5 course, the sort of tricky course we've seen a lot of this season. So it's good practice. We do well but don't go clear, so it's a typical 2007 Grade 5 performance from us.
We collect L from yoga, hope her training went well...
The gardeners around here at work have carpeted over all the flowerbeds and then pulled the plants through holes in the carpet. Why do they do this? There must be a reason. It is to protect them from frost or are they going to put mulch over the top. I don't know but it looks crap at the moment.
From today's papers, exercise is good for you, particularly if you're a man and it's your partner who's doing it. Women who exercise at least five times a week have the best sex lives. The gym is good but cycling is better, women who cycle, are twice as 'active' as those who don't but that’s obvious, it's because they're ogling us male cyclists with our muscles clad in clinging lycra. Swimming though is the best thing, a swimmer in their forties is as rampant as a twenty year old. That reminds me, I must finishing writing that training schedule for L.
Dog class goes well. The trainer sets ups a typical 2007 style Grade 5 course, the sort of tricky course we've seen a lot of this season. So it's good practice. We do well but don't go clear, so it's a typical 2007 Grade 5 performance from us.
We collect L from yoga, hope her training went well...
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Death Bind
Another briefer than usual lie-in and then we run with Doggo to retrieve the car from where we left it last night at L's work. We cross the park, the university and then down the canal. Similar to the route I did with Doggo on Thursday.
Then I pop to Evans Cycles because I need a new pair of gloves to stop my fingers dropping off now that the mornings are colder. Surprisingly they have a good range, including all the ones that were on my short list. I even buy a pair.
I spend the afternoon with the Sunday papers which are full of the usual rubbish, such as Trinny and Susannah recommending that woman dunk their chest in a bowl of water to calculate their bra size. The mind boggles.
Talking of odd activities, L shows me what she gets up to in yoga. It's called the 'death bind' or is it a 'body bind'. It's quite disturbing, in a pleasant, racy sort of way.
I cook up a rather good prawn patia. We have no DVDs in the house after finally dumping LoveFilm, so we decided to restart L's aborted attempt to show me the delights of Bleak House. We watch episodes 2 and 3, it's been a long time since I watched episode one but I think I got the gist of it. It probably helps that we hit the red wine, which we shouldn't really on a Sunday but it's been a fairly low alcohol week. Then we retire to bed to finish off the lie-in.
28 units this week.
Then I pop to Evans Cycles because I need a new pair of gloves to stop my fingers dropping off now that the mornings are colder. Surprisingly they have a good range, including all the ones that were on my short list. I even buy a pair.
I spend the afternoon with the Sunday papers which are full of the usual rubbish, such as Trinny and Susannah recommending that woman dunk their chest in a bowl of water to calculate their bra size. The mind boggles.
Talking of odd activities, L shows me what she gets up to in yoga. It's called the 'death bind' or is it a 'body bind'. It's quite disturbing, in a pleasant, racy sort of way.
I cook up a rather good prawn patia. We have no DVDs in the house after finally dumping LoveFilm, so we decided to restart L's aborted attempt to show me the delights of Bleak House. We watch episodes 2 and 3, it's been a long time since I watched episode one but I think I got the gist of it. It probably helps that we hit the red wine, which we shouldn't really on a Sunday but it's been a fairly low alcohol week. Then we retire to bed to finish off the lie-in.
28 units this week.
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