Too ill to bike, too late to bus, So I’m in the car, banging the head against the steering wheel in frustration. At least we’re at the pub at lunchtime, I just hope the chef turns up this time.
Then it’s squash. I was a bit late trying to book and have been unable to get our usual court and 8.15 is the earliest I could get. I fear this is past my opponent’s bedtime but he grudgingly agrees.
On these ground I almost sense victory, if only it wasn’t for this cough. L vows to run there, if I force her out of the door, and then go for a late swim. She wants me to force her out of the door and into the deluge? Even I’m not that cruel, well not often.
I get home to find one dog one side of the dog gate and one the other side. The dog gate is shut. WTF as Daughter would say. What’s even odder is its Doggo, the 11 year old, who has lept for freedom and probably banged his head on the front door in the process. In 11 years he’s never done that before and this is the old man who I retired from agility because he couldn't jump a two foot hurdle but can now apparently jump a much higher dog gate.
I go upstairs to find out he has ‘dug’ both mattresses causing not inconsiderable damage. He will not be popular when L sees that. Actually, he’s not popular with me either.
So to squash, where the later start seems to suit me. I’m more awake at that sort of time unlike my opponent. I start like a train but then quickly run out of energy. Damn that cough.
(Thursday 22nd November)