I don’t bike. I get the bus.
My mother sends practically a full steak pie for the boys. They have half for breakfast with the rest probably for tea. Their diet is as bad as mine at the moment.
L is at a funeral today. The wake afterwards has apparently a stunning collection of cheeses. That’s the sort of send off I’d like as well. It’s just a shame the guy wasn’t there to enjoy it himself.
Back home, things are a bit tense as Daughter attempts to get the train from Sheffield to Loughborough and I get live text updates. There are celebrations all round as she negotiates the ticket machine, the ticket barriers, the correct train/platform combinations and arrives in the correct place.
I’m out again tonight; it’s been that sort of week. Whereas next week will probably be the opposite. The beer in the award winning Horse and Plough at Bingham is good but very uninventive. I’m stuck on the light beers all night with nothing to restore my dark-light balance. It will have to be attended to over the weekend.
The pub is also packed, hardly surprising when practically every other pub in Bingham is closed pending refurbishment.
(Friday 24th February)