I’m not running this weekend, too injured. L has been hinting about the Dovedale Dash. It is on the list of things to do before my knees collapse, that is if they haven’t already. Although actually I have no idea why it’s on my list. The thought of the mud, the stepping stones and the river sends shivers down my spine. I don’t do mud, other than at dog training.
So instead of running we go out and buy a heated towel rail, why not.
Then somehow we pack Daughter’s bike in the car, cramming the two dogs in around it and head up to Sheffield. Doggo looks put out to have a bike chain in his face, whereas MD just curls up, rests his chin on a mudguard and goes to sleep. I’m not sure Daughter will use the bike but at least it’s now blocking up someone else’s house.
While there we go for lunch at the Lescar in Hunters Bar which was ok last time and is ok again, only that everything, pretty much, is off. The Sunday Roasts have all sold out, there are no lentils to put in L’s lentil salad, no strawberries for the strawberry crumble and even the coffee machine is bust. Someone heads off to find a kettle. Still they give us a free round of drinks and what we do manage to order is fine. So all’s good.
(Sunday 4th November)
Time to bury bad news, or just Matt Hancock?
1 hour ago