I need to be a squash for 6.45, so I best not bike as with my luck I’ll get another puncture. I don’t take the bus either as last week it was so late, I only just made it in time. So car it is. Now they’ll be hold up on the roads of course.
L swims but only 26 lengths. 26! I’m surprised she can live with herself, swimming such an unrounded number.
Daughter needs a black polo shirt for work, so I send her to the fashion disaster area that is SportsDirect. She’ll die going in there.
After my pub lunch I’m all fired up for squash and on time, thanks to it being the school holidays and there being little on the roads except cyclists repairing punctures.
L is home just after me and is dawdling about going out for a training run. I push her out of the door despite her trying, and succeeding, to look alluring on the bed, thinking it'll get her out of her run. I refuse to be more than a little distracted as I have a squash match to lose.
I play an excellent squash match, even if I do say so myself. I lead 1-0 and then 2-1, although it finishes 2-2, which is still a victory in my book. My opponent was well fed up, particularly when I served overarm, tennis style. Well, you have to try and vary it when you’re in my position, losing every week. I played lots of sidewall shots as well, which he says aren’t proper squash shots, well not the way I do them.
Then after a quick pint, its home to see if L still wants to distract me. She’s had a ‘crap run’ she says, so we console each other, with wine, and forget to eat.
(Thursday 12th April)
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