Despite being away for two weeks the pizza oven at The Yard is still broken, so it’s sandwiches for lunch again.
L has come back from holiday with a dodgy elbow which her boss injects for her. She is embarrassed to have to lie down afterwards, I’d have fallen down and been out cold.
The Tennis Centre is no longer allowing outdoor courts to be booked from 7pm presumably because it’s now too dark to get the hour in, so we move indoors for our tennis on Thursday and up a price bracket.
L asks me to check out if there are any girls in her male dominated tennis ex-class tonight. Erm, one lad and four girls.
Instead she goes to her running club where she describes the session as more like British Bulldog. Not too sure what that means.
(Thursday 5th September)