The weekend ends with my first velodrome session for some time and boy does it hurt afterwards. It shames me into a massive two rides to work this week.
The BBC says three quarters of women never cycle. Which I am surprised at but not because that’s a high amount of non-cyclists as the BBC implies but because I thought it would be higher than that and also about the same for men. I work for a pretty fit company and only 2 out of 25 are cycling. That’s 8%. So 92% don’t cycle.
There are other forms of exercise. Just ask the boys, well ask MD. The Lad mostly spends their morning park sessions hanging onto his ball, poncing merrily around with it in his mouth, while MD at least puts his all in to it and actually chases the balls.
MD crawls back from the park while the Lad comes home still up for running off with a several pairs of shoes and chewing on a few of his beloved clothes pegs or... fruit. He does like his five a day, running off with L’s breakfast apple and her lunchtime banana. Well, if she will leave them on the kitchen worktop.
We assume this also goes on while we’re at work, to a lesser extent as we’ve hidden all the shoes\clothes pegs, while MD goes to bed and lets chaos do its own thing. Which one day turns out to be nibbling on L’s sunglasses.
Monday I have a committee meeting and Thursday the car goes in for it’s MOT. Apparently the hand brake has failed, I’ve no idea why... L may have been hoping they would condemn the whole car but they’ve fixed the handbrake, installed a new indicator stalk so now we can turn right as well as left, even the clanking suspension has been fixed. So, as good as new now. If only I could get the same treatment for myself.
Friday brings the Hairy Helmet. L is a bag of nerves. So am, given how quickly the bar ran out last year. I’m nervous about how long it will last this year.
Daughter joins the team this time and the dress code is black, like we’re all in mourning but hey, we were 211th last year out of 222. The only way is up. No pressure.
We have to move up a category though. From last year’s Ultravets (combined age of more than 240) to Supervets (combined age of more than 200) due to Daughter’s youthfulness.
We finish 218th, oh... but out of 239. So I think that’s an improvement.
The beer doesn’t run out as no one can get one. There are massive queues, so we give up and adjourn to the Furnace.
Oh and on Tuesday, I had a blast seeing The Psychedelic Furs at the Academy Leicester.
(Friday 15th June)