Send For The Military

On Saturday we parkrun at Alvaston, which may be boring but it’s about the best surface (all tarmac) if it's wet and it’s been exceedingly wet recently.

It is Daughter’s 80^th Parkrun. It would have been my 86^th if I hadn’t forgotten my barcode or even my 87^th if they hadn't done me out of my first ever one at Conkers for reasons I was never made aware of.
 

Afterwards I am at the match while my two fellow parkrunners get the train down to L’s sisters where they will both be running the Standalone 10k tomorrow. I’m not going as I’m on Glastonbury ticket duty. Having seen a sneak preview of the Standalone t-shirt, which is bright pink, perhaps it's a good one to miss. 

Then the boys and I have a night on our own. We order out for pizza.

The next day we’re all up early to apply for Glastonbury tickets or rather to just look at the holding screen for half an hour.

My colleague from work gets in (again) but then he’s part of a large syndicate who all apply for each other every year. Consequently they have been for the last nine years. This is what it’s come to. You need either huge luck or a military operation to get tickets. As L says I’ve blocked off my entire weekend for nothing. Apparently there will be a ballot for 50 pairs of tickets but I’m not holding my breath.

After that my day consists of mainly ball throwing and cutting the lawn, which bizarrely it’s dry enough to do.

Later we’re all by the gate waiting to welcome L home in our own individual ways but I'm the only one she invites to the pub later. I drown my Glastonbury sorrows in the Organ Grinder and the Borlase.while she celebrates her run.

(Sunday 6^th October)