Peas

Monday’s cycling was a bit quieter and therefore a bit easier this week but still worthy of a Black Pudding scotch egg afterwards. Beautiful.

L describes Tuesday’s PT as interesting, can now barely walk and doesn't even get a scotch egg afterwards.

I take my Rab jacket in for repairs at the Zip Yard in Toton. The zip has now broken, they are going to fix that and apparently sew up the rip that I've had for ages as well. 

L makes it to her new Waterstones book club on Tuesday mainly because she isn't speaking to her boss and so gets out of work on time. He failed to show up at the office at all on Monday so she tells him she’s retiring. He wasn't very happy about that idea. 

She isn't over glowing about the book club and says she probably wouldn’t go again.

I do the Gym at lunch on Wednesday and get the last space in the car park although thankfully most people seemed to be there for a spin class not for the gym. There seems to be a lot of stuff broken at the moment but sadly, to L’s displeasure, not the leg curl.

Later the Lad and I head off to dog training and another wild tunnel session. Meanwhile L will look forward to an exciting night in reading, perhaps a bit of yoga, undisturbed hoovering, copious mugs of tea and cooking something with peas in it.

Now I have nothing par se against peas, they just don't make my top ten list of must eat vegetables, but there is also a time and a place for peas. I don’t feel that pasta is that place but that’s perhaps just me.

Apparently this month's Runners World, which I no longer get, has an article about how to start running with your dog but what do they know. Unless they advise on how to stop it biting its lead. There are very few things in life more stressful that running with the Lad although attempting agility with him is one of them. Come to think of it walking with him isn’t that great either.

On Thursday evening I have a Committee meeting. Then on Friday evening we’re out with friends at Niccos in Derby for a curry. The foods good but often not terribly Indian. The place however is always very noisy which makes it difficult to talk. At least this time we are seated almost out of earshot from their singer.

On Saturday we do our home Parkrun at Wollaton Park. Then afterwards I take my Dad out to the New Inn for lunch. I have a sandwich which turns out to be a very large sandwich and comes with chips. So the Lad gets loads. After which we end up at a garden centre looking at hose pipes, as you do, before we head back to listen to Derby’s match on the radio. L and I are in the Plough again later.

On Sunday our walking tour takes us to Shipley Park.

(Sunday 4th February)