I would probably have been asleep at my desk on Friday morning but my thighs are throbbing so much that they keep me awake.
L suggests a mega hot curry tonight to destroy the remnants of her lurgy which is still keeping her off the tea. I shall get that cooking just as soon as I get back from setting up our dog show. I have the afternoon off work to head over to Newark to do this. The dogs are pleased as I am at home most of the afternoon before going over about 3pm.
The actual show is all day Saturday and I was supposed to be there for 7am but I’m late. In fact, I was worried I wouldn’t get there at all because almost as soon as I leave home the engine management light comes on in the car. I drive slowly, just in case it packs up completely.
Once there I do a quick google and the perceived opinion is ‘don’t worry about it’. I suppose we did once drive the old Vectra around Scotland for a week with the management light on but I didn’t expect expert Google opinion to agree with me.
The car has been brilliant considering it’s age. Apart from the occasionally dodgy handbrake, the most serious issue recently has been that the cigarette lighter keeps jumping out of it’s slot. The other day it jumped into L’s handbag and went to work with her.
This is the first time ever that I have gone to a dog show with no dogs. It is an advanced level show and MD is now too old to do that level while the Lad hasn’t got started yet.
At least L now seems well enough to exercise the boys, take in Pilates and a Jamaican lunch. It all sounds very cosmopolitan. I’ve had chips. I know my place. No cheese though, that would be unhealthy.
Meanwhile Derby win at Accrington Stanley and progress to the 5th Round of the FA Cup.
At the end of a successful show, I cross my fingers and put my faith in the car. I do kick myself for not putting my kit in the car, then if the worst happened I could run home. I do need the training. The car, however, doesn’t let me down.
Back at home, the current ‘night in’ tipple has moved on from the Mann’s Brown Ale, which was hard to get hold of anyway, to Mackeson Stout. Which L is now sending me for, to fuel our nights of debauchery.
Like Mann’s it’s 2.8% and one of my old university friends, who I still see, used to drink nothing but when we were in the Student’s Union bar, which was pretty much every night. Quite often we had to carry him home and I don’t think any of us had any idea what the strength was, I’m not sure they even had to tell you back then. We always suspected he was a lightweight.
(Saturday 26th January)