The Obsolete Elizabeth Fry

L keeps asking if I would mind if she went to Thursday morning yoga and if I would take on dog duties if she did. The answer is always yes but this yoga happens at the unearthly time of 7.30am, so she’s hasn’t been yet. Her willpower is not great once she’s tucked up in bed. I would like to think it’s me she can’t be parted from but I fear it's the bed. So she heads off for her usual swim instead while I’m on the bike.

This week is the last week to spend your ‘old’ fivers and oddly, not having seen one for ages, I’ve had several this week as they have suddenly come out of the woodwork or out from down the back of sofas.

My colleague and I have lunch in the Brunswick where he pays for the drinks with a couple of almost obsolete Elizabeth Frys. Then I pay for the food and get one of them back in my change. FFS. The barmaid has a bit of a laugh at that and quotes the words ‘legal tender’. Yes for one more day.

At squash tonight I haul myself back from 2-0 down to level at 2-2 by which point my opponent is dead on his feet and the deciding game is played as slow as a test match in India. He grinds out the win and oddly, unlike last week, no one knocks on the door to stop him.

Afterwards we head to the Dispensary for drinks and L runs there, as she attempts to re-engage with her training.

We are embarking on the tennis season next week, apparently. Oh no, I hate playing tennis.

(Thursday 4^th May)