Tuesday, my running club of one meets and I run from work. I have learnt from the horse manure debacle and now run the Long Eaton route which has street lighting. I complete 14.7k and then get Indigo bus home.
Wednesday, is dog training and the Lad has an absolute blast.
On Thursday, I bike to work but dally too long on the park with the boys and I arrive late, having completely forgotten that the whole company is in a meeting about pensions. They all have to wait for me to get changed and to join them before they can start.
I also have squash and afterwards I have to stall for time, by drinking beer in the Dispensary, while I wait for L. She isn’t at tennis this week but has instead gone to a book thing at Waterstones featuring Barbara Kingsolver.
Friday... L asks if I’m doing anything fitness wise. No, nothing. My body is past any more exercise this week. Instead I get bus to work.
L frogmarches the Lad to meet me off the bus so that he can tell me in his own words what he’s done today. Oh. That doesn’t sound good. Turns out he’s had a stab at being the Andrex puppy and it’s not quite worked out for him. Rather then lovingly draping the toilet roll around the house and himself, he’s completely shredded it. It looks like we have our own snow machine. Cute it isn’t.
(Friday 16th November)