L saves me this morning by making me late enough to miss the bus and therefore I don't get soaked in another of those drought inducing thunderstorms but I'm still in plenty of time to drive. In theory. The traffic is horrendous. I can’t even get on the A52 at Bramcote. Diverted through Stapleford nothing is moving there either, so I end up doing a u-turn and going through Ilkeston. I’m sure it’s only this bad when I elect to drive.
At least I’ve chucked some kit in the car and I head to John Carroll Leisure Centre after work. Although I’m not a great fan of the gym.
They only have two bikes in their gym and one of them has a sign on it, saying out of order. They do have two other bikes but they don’t have their pedals in the right place, they’re a bit like those pedal go-carts that some folk had as a kid but which seemed far too much effort to be of any use.
On the one unbroken (almost) proper bike is a chap in a woolly hat who seems to be in for the long haul. Thirty minutes later he’s still there. Which is perfectly fine. I wanted at least thirty minutes myself. It’s not really worth putting your leg over for less.
Unfortunately this leaves me with the dreadmill for company, which wasn’t what I had planned at all and this keeps cutting out every ten minutes telling me my session has ended, which obviously it hasn’t because I’m still here and having to restart it all over again. Stupid thing. After the thing cuts out for a third time I give up and go for a swim. I’m not a great fan of the gym.
I’m also not a great fan of the pool. I get into lowly lane four because it looks quietest. In it are just two other people and they aren’t doing much swimming. I assume they know each other because they stop for a grope and a snog after every length, not that they do many. This is good actually as it means they don’t get in my way.
Sadly after a while they get out, presumably to continue their performance elsewhere, and three lads replace them. The lads dawdle in the shallow end making it very difficult for me to actually touch the side to turn. They don’t show much sign of doing any swimming, perhaps as they’re teenagers they’ve forgotten how or simply CBA. I conclude they’re probably just ‘hanging out’, trying to look cool, trying to pull the chicks etc. In which case they’re wasting their time, she’s just pulled and got out. When one of them does finally remember how to swim, I duck out of the way of his flailing arms and decide it’s time to call it a day. I must have done at least thirty lengths anyway.
I get home in time to take the boys out but it’s still too wet to walk or train the dogs, so we'll just have to chuck hot dogs instead.
(Wednesday 18th April)
BRAPA - Drunk in St Neots (Part 2 of 2)
14 hours ago