Faking It

L reports queues at the Beat Boxes this morning, so it’s no wonder a lot of them have flat batteries. One woman was (allegedly) at the one machine swiping several cards. Cheat! We should report her.

It turns out that some GP’s had been charging £150 for medical certificates for the Paris Marathon. It appears that plenty of people have been charged over £100 and £50 seemed about average for either the full or the half, as well as for some of the bike races and triathlons they have in France. So seems we got it cheap at £15, although some people said their GPs did it for free and plenty of people faked theirs.

I have physio tonight, in a desperate attempt to get fit for Sunday. I am advised that my lumps really need a tennis ball shoving in them. I'm sure I can manage that if it helps.

After physio I head off to pick my mother and father up from hospital where my dad has been having an appointment. Unfortunately they haven’t told me where to collect them from and neither of them are answering their phones, so I spend an hour driving round in circles until I find them.

Then after I've dropped them off, it's back to Nottingham before coming back over to Derby again for dog training. Afterwards, I'm glad when L again talks me into a shot/slug/bucket of Baileys.

(Wednesday 11^th May)