Kick Off... Throw Off... Bully Off...

I saw this on the ever unreliable BBC. Beijing has set a rule that public toilets should contain no more than two flies at a time. It is not clear how the flies will be punished if more than two of them enter at the same time.

I tell L to start brushing up on her handball. In this morning’s latest Olympic ticket scramble I add another ticket to our Olympic portfolio and book the entertainment for the Saturday evening when we’re down there for the Pentathlon. Not just any old handball but the bronze medal match no less. I could have got the gold medal match but as Team GB won’t be in either, I thought I’d go for the early evening game so we get to spend our one night in London out on the tiles. This game is a 5pm kick off... throw off... bully off... whatever it is. Must google. At least we’re in the Olympic park this time.

There actually now appears to be plenty of tickets, just not for the highest profile sports. Which makes you think the initial hysteria created by the original ballot system was manufactured and as it turns out totally unnecessary. They could have just balloted half a dozen sports.

I don't know if they intend to reopen their resale system or not but I'm guessing a lot of people will have tickets from that original ballot that they've now improved up on and hence will be leaving an empty seat somewhere if they can't get rid.

My receipt says I’ve been charged £6 for ‘fulfilment’. Wonder if that means they’re chucking in beer and a massage.

I spend the evening out in Derby bragging about my handball tickets to a couple of friends over a few beers. Naturally they think their badminton and volleyball tickets are superior. They may have a point of course, my knowledge of handball is a little sparse, as the moment.

(Wednesday 23rd May)

Enjoy It While It Lasts

The sun is out and consequently the summer dresses are out. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Some may have though that summer was those ten days back in March but no, it’s popped back with a vengeance but presumably not for long. Bizarrely they’re still skiing on the slopes in Scotland.

For some reason I decide a ten mile run would be a nice idea tonight. I quickly realise what a bad idea this is as I do a loop around Pride Park before heading towards home. It’s bloody hot and I have to roll down my girlie long socks, to stop my calves exploding.

Meanwhile L is rather unhelpfully talking about stopping off at the university lake to buy an ice cream on her way home from pump class. Which is weightlifting to music I believe, which I would find distracting but each to their own.

I have a few walks during my 'run' but eventually stagger my way to 15k which isn’t too far off ten miles. I’m past counting. Every so often everyone suffers from ‘horrible run syndrome’. I think this is mine and at least it means that perhaps I've got the horrible one out of the way. They do say that the hard days are what make the easy days easy. We’ll see.

(Tuesday 22nd May)

That Is So Not Fair

Apparently there an incredibly cute Schnauzer Shitzoo (or is it Shih Tzu?) cross that has a massive crush on MD. Oh dear. Girls always do go for the wrong guys don’t they? MD though doesn't even bark at her, so perhaps he’s fond of her too.

Both L and I have been asked to do the latest Biobank health survey. Mine came this morning, so they want to know what I ate and drank yesterday. Sunday. L’s came yesterday, so they want to know what she ate and drank on Saturday... howls of ‘that is so not fair!’ from over yonder. I’ll be standing over her as she puts down the several 8%ers in Brew Dog, the Old Peculiar and the curry...

I watch a bit of the Olympic torch relay on the internet, immediately wondering why they’re all doing it in white pyjamas.

On the way to dog class, our first on a Monday for ages, I chuck L out at a roundabout and she runs to Mickleover plugged into her audiobook, learning about the Japanese vs Dutch trade embargo... she has weird tastes. I’ve started a new Michael Robotham, about the same psychologist my last one was about. I might run to that tomorrow but I think music might make me go a bit quicker.

(Monday 21st May)

Two Halves A Month

We had hoped to be competing in the ‘Classic Barrow 10’ this morning as Barrow Runners tried to revive this once popular road race. Unfortunately they failed to resurrect it, meeting a wall of safety regulations and expensive road closures that have presumably been tightened since they last ran the race in 2006. Which is a shame.

My thoughts had briefly turned to the Eyam Half Marathon. L has frequently talked of how horrific it was when she did it many years ago but has constantly refused to consider doing it again. Suggesting I’d have to get her very very drunk for her to even consider it. So I tried that but even that didn’t work. She simply reiterated that she’s sticking to two halves a month and by that she didn’t mean she’s cutting her alcohol down.

It’s all very intriguing. Can a race really be that bad? I was very tempted to find out but in the end decided I simply wasn’t fit enough yet, post injury. Next year...

Instead we visit the gym, even me. Which is conveniently situated at the tennis centre and I had promised myself a spot of tennis.

L’s concern about the girl’s skirts is misplaced. Some would say short, others would say ultra lightweight and streamlined, I imagine something with such a low drag coefficient is essential for good tennis.

(Sunday 20th May)

In At The Deep End

L is up before me this morning and I’ve got an early start for a dog show. What’s even odder is she’s wheeling her bike out of the garage. Then she’s swimming 41 lengths before breakfast and heading in for a Saturday shift at work. Hang on, 41 lengths... She says she got in at the deep end by mistake. How do you... never mind. It’s a council leisure centre, anything is possible.

At the dog show MD is weaving well, jumping well, getting all his contacts... it’s just the bloody tunnels. Arghhhh. L says I should buy one. I will. Tonight.

Having done a bit of work, L is now at the tennis centre, at the gym but also watching the tennis. It’s the Junior County Cup and L’s sister’s lad is in one of the teams. She embarrasses him, which is good. It’s all our jobs to embarrass our teenagers and it’s so easily done.

She tells me of the jolly short skirts and the jolly cold weather, concerned the girls will catch their deaths. Spoken like a true mother. Suddenly I have the feeling I’m in the wrong place today. That said the tournament is on again tomorrow. I quite fancy a day at the tennis.

Only one clear from five runs today, our best is a 12th, but I’m pleased with MD. He’s ran really well. What he did well, he did very well. We just need to cut out the mistakes and sort those bloody tunnels out.

We hang on for Doggo’s Vets run before we can go home. The poor old man is up last. He’s lying in 6th when we decide to leave with a few dogs left to run as the rosettes only go down to 4th.

In the evening we head out for another stab at the Brew Dog Emporium. Again nice beers only once they’ve warmed up and gone flat! After a few, well three halves of 8%ers! We move on to the Peacock where the beer comes pre-warmed and pre-flat. I’ve not been in here for years but a few months ago I heard they’d had Old Peculiar on the bar. So I thought it was worth checking to see if that was just a one off or not.

It turns out that it wasn't a once off, there it was and in very good form too. At least we get to drop down to something with a lower alcohol content. Just the 5.7% then. Funnily enough the Cobra in the Noor Jahan curry house later is the weakest drink of the night, a mere 5%. Good job we have a quiet day tomorrow, tennis apart.

(Saturday 19th May)

Not The Place To Go Looking For It

I run home again tonight, stretching it out to nearly 16km. All good training for the world famous Benbecula Half Marathon that we have coming up. If anyone hasn't entered, I’d get in soon if you want to be assured of a place. We’ve just had our numbers through. I’m number 15, L is 14... so it's popular. Perhaps we just entered early. At least I could finish top 20.

L is running home too or ‘bloody running’ as she calls it. She loves it really.

Later we resurrect the TOTP night, which has now been joined by ‘Sounds of the 70’s’ both of which clearly demonstrate that if you wanted decent music in 1977, these were not the places to go looking for it.

(Friday 18th May)

Spinning The Roulette Wheel

So Olympic tickets... here we go again. Let’s spin the roulette wheel.

First up an all events Modern Pentathlon ticket and in less than three minutes Ticketmaster told me I was having a laugh. So no change there then. I spin the wheel again.

I take a punt on the Brownlee boys and the Triathlon. Ticketmaster fell off its chair at this point, ROFL-ing for all it was worth, but only after making me wait 7... no 8... no 9... no 10 minutes... no 11... it just kept going up and up like something you bought from Microsoft. I remove my fist from my PC screen and spin the roulette wheel again.

I go for the lesser Modern Pentathlon option, a ticket for just the Greenwich Park events - the riding, running and shooting. Ticketmaster said 'yeah no problem'. Now it really was taking the piss.

I kept looking at the screen which was now saying ‘you have 1 minute 10 seconds to accept these tickets’... no ‘1 minute 5 seconds’ ... ‘1 minute’... hang on just one minute... I mean 50 seconds... I mean 45 seconds... this countdown is going down not up, that can’t be right. It’s also not long enough to decide whether I’m being defrauded or not.

Sod it. Buy buy buy. It’s only money and it’s the London Olympics. We all love the London Olympics.

So yes we have tickets. I still can’t get anywhere near the Olympic Park but it’s a start.

Buoyed by this success, I wonder what the hotel prices are like. The media have led us to believe that the only way to stay in London during the games is to pay someone a grand or so to sleep in their garage on the edge of the M25 and then walk in to London because all the public transport will have ground to a halt.

So I’m rather surprised to pay £85 for a double room with an ensuite bathroom and full English breakfast just over a mile from Greenwich Park. As I say, we all love the London Olympics. I really don’t know what everyone is complaining about.

Talking of London, L is there today for work. Good choice Dear, there’s a train strike on but then again isn’t there always. Does anyone know what they’re striking for? Thought not. They’re probably all sat in front of their PC trying to get Olympic tickets. Ha. Tough. I’ve got them.

Anyway, she has to get a taxi from Nottingham to Long Eaton, then get a train to Tamworth and then to London... coming back is via Tamworth, Derby and then by bus to Nottingham. Which is sort of annoying, sort of hilarious and just makes you really really hope that they don’t get given whatever they're demanding.

I take the boys to squash, well they wait in the car and then I wave to them as I go to the pub for a pint of ‘Traditional’. That’s what it was called and that’s what it was. Very nice, none of this ‘blonde’ stuff. Then I make it up to the boys by chucking balls on Embankment.

After her traumatic day, L texts to say she’s just got off the bus and will meet me in bed with a bottle of wine. Ok boys, that’s it, game's over.

(Thursday 17th May)

Powder Dry, Bone Dry

L reckons that we should both be getting up and getting fit rather than getting amorous in bed. I disagree, plenty of muscles group that can be worked on here and all at seven calories per minute (so they say). Then because I’m on the bike today, I have to get a real shift on to get to work on time because I’m running late which does my legs loads of good, I hope.

As I’m on the bike, dodging potholes, I best mention the recent University of Nottingham study which reckons they can improve average life of a pothole repair from four years to fifteen. Hang on a sec. Four years! Who are they kidding. Four months more like. The ones I cycle over are re-repaired every year and even that isn’t often enough.

I have another look at the Olympic tickets website. There seems to be availability for a lot of things at the moment, apart from athletics and cycling of course. One wonders why all these tickets weren’t on sale in the first place... plus they’re limiting people to one set of tickets each now, which would have been a good idea in the first place. I’m keeping my powder dry (it's bone dry) for an assault on the modern pentathlon and the triathlon, which are added tomorrow. I just hope that everyone else isn’t planning the same.

After work, I pedal to the pool for a swim. L says she's rather jealous but she wouldn't be if she saw the queue, which is out of the door. It's an almost exclusively female queue so I assume they're all going to be booking into bodypump, zumba, pilates, chairobics or whatever the current fashion is but no, they all pass through saying ‘swim please’. So OMG it's going to be busy. If it had been all been men I'd have been running in the opposite direction because it would have been competitive hell at the top end of the pool. I know it's going to be busy but at least it’ll be scenic.

Actually it’s hell. Twenty-eight swimmers across five lanes, the sixth lane is shut for a lesson and there are eight in the fun pool. These morning swimmer like L get it so easy. I make it a quick one.

(Wednesday 16th May)

Fish Out Of Water

I arrive at work surprised to be alive and I’ve not even been near my bike. This morning’s bus driver was a complete maniac, he clipped the kerb at least three times.

L is a bit like a fish out of water at the moment, a girl without a challenge. Unsurprisingly she sees the answer as being in the water and is training for a long distance swim, preferably a 5k. Not that we have one booked yet and her golden rule is that it’s got to have an event t-shirt.

Actually I've got one of those already and I didn't even get my feet wet. Conveniently when the Great North Swim was cancelled in 2010, L let me have one of the t-shirts they gave her. I wear it with pride.

L takes in a pump class after work, which I think involves weights not bike tyres, although the workout is probably similar. It's all to strengthen those swimming arms. So I’ll be having to lift her pints for her come the weekend.

I run part of the way home. 14k. Not bad.

(Tuesday 15th May)

A Very Big Sofa

Apparently LOCOG or whatever they call themselves have found some spare tickets down the back of the Olympic sofa. About 900,000 of them. It’s a very big sofa. So this morning I make use of my exclusive ‘presale’ window. How this be a presale when it’s after the original ballot and after the secondary sales window earlier this year... I have no idea but never mind.

It is with a heavy heart, e.g. huge expectations of failure (again), that I log on to my exclusive window, just me and approximately one million others.

I’m after track cycling, which everybody is after of course, just because they once saw Sir Chris or Vicky P in Lyrca and thought I’ll have ticket for some of that, so naturally I am correct in assuming it will be another unsuccessful attempt.

It’s also another battle with the unfathomable Ticketmaster. I promise I’ll never ever slag off SeeTickets again. I avoid Ticketmaster like the plague for gig tickets for the same reason that it’s a disaster for Olympics tickets. First there’s their obsession with ‘captcha’ and it always takes me three attempts to solve the puzzle, which in Olympic ticket buying terms is valuable seconds lost.

Then there’s their annoying way of being incapable of updating availability in real time, sometimes you suspect with Ticketmaster even in the same week is beyond them. So you pick your event, your price range and how many you want and press the button marked ‘beg’. It tells you to go for a long slow walk around the block while it consults the tea leaves in the bottom of the Ticketmaster mug before coming and saying ‘nope, not go any of those’. It doesn’t say ‘we haven’t got 4 but you can have 2’, or ‘we haven’t got any at £20 but we have some at £40’. It doesn’t even say ‘we haven’t got any tickets at all for that event you moron, what are you even trying for?’

Well I’m trying because your website says you have availability in ALL price categories, so I sort of assumed you had availability in all price categories. No? Well perhaps you did last Friday but clearly you haven’t bothered to update it since. So I change my criteria and try again, in an attempt to unlock the perfect combination that might yield me a back row restricted view seat in the velodrome behind a bunch of Moldovans who probably got theirs for nothing because no one’s heard of the Olympics in Moldova.

Each time you have to manually empty your shopping basket because it won’t let you put a second set in there until you take out the ones they haven’t got. You’d think it would do this for you. More valuable seconds lost.

Eventually with Ticketmaster still showing full availability in all categories I give and go check the comments on the BBC website to try to find someone who’s more miserable than me. Only to come up against some smartarse saying how easy it all was. Crowing about how they bagged front rows seats and a night out with Jess Varnish, all in under 30 seconds and still had change from ten grand. We all love the London Olympics.

Plan FF is Thursday and a punt on either Triathlon or Modern Pentathlon tickets. Don’t hold your breath.

I wonder if that Nottingham lad who was trying to give away the £1,000 romantic holiday for two to Malta after his girlfriend dumped him thought about swapping it for Olympic tickets. Perhaps he’s already got Olympic tickets. Perhaps when they split she got the Olympic tickets and he got Malta. No wonder he doesn’t fancy going any more.

The afternoon’s entertainment is Daughter dashing (well sort of) around Sheffield, trying to find a Co-Op bank, trying to extract enough money from them to pay her rent and then taking it to her landlords office by 5pm, having not started until about 2.30. All the time I’m assisting her by text. It reminds me mightily of Treasure Hunt with Anneka Rice back in 80’s for some reason, only without the helicopter.

I was beginning to wonder if she’d get there before 5pm but she did, with time to spare in the end. So at least that challenge went to plan.

No dog class, I take the boys on the park instead.

(Monday 14th May)