The Football Curse

I have the afternoon off so that I can head over to Newark to help set up our dog show for tomorrow. We are not allowed in the arena until 5pm so I have most of the afternoon with the boys which naturally involves ball chucking.

Then I take them over to Newark with me but it all ends up being a bit boring for them as the weather turns wet and they don’t get to get out of the car.

Setting up is complete by about 7:30 and then it’s a rush to get home for the Derby v Leicester FA Cup game which I would have liked to have gone to but it just wasn’t possible with us having the show. At least the BBC have obliged by showing it live.

I get home only ten minutes after the 7:55 kick off but Derby are one down by then after Darren Bent’s laughable own goal. I open a beer, sit down and enjoy the Derby fightback as they score twice to lead 2-1 until four minutes from time when Leicester score again to force a replay.

By then L has come in from the gym and has naturally reignited the football curse that she thinks follows her around.

We console ourselves, well I console myself I'm not sure L is that bothered, by ordering a takeaway curry from the tackily named Curry Busters on Hartley Road. It was a punt in the dark as we wouldn’t have got our usual curry house The Park Tandoori to deliver on a Friday night and neither of us wanted to walk there but surprisingly Curry Busters come up trumps with a mightily tasty meal. Although we do order extra rice that we don’t need which will keep the dogs going all next week.

(Friday 27^th January)

The Blue Peter Garden

Firstly I apologise to MD. I had booked him into a dog show today but instead he, along with Doggo, is being dumped in a multi-story car park in Salford. They are at least incarcerated in what they call MediaCityUK where both the BBC and ITV have studios as his errant owners prepare to run the Salford 10k.

It’s not all bad for them though. Both dogs get to wee in the Blue Peter garden while I meet Pudsey Bear and L gets to stand outside the Rover Return. Daughter comes along to support and even seems to enjoy herself.

It's fairly well organised but there was a distinct lack of useful stalls in the race village e.g. nothing athletically minded so there was nowhere to get an energy bar from. I had to have chocolate instead! It was also a right scrum getting into the start pens but I managed to cram myself in somewhere near the front eventually.

The route takes us past the Lowry, the Imperial War Museum, Old Trafford football ground and Salford Quays from where we have done the Great Swim. I only notice some of these places because obviously I am too focused on my race.

It’s a fairly flat traffic free course but it’s also quite twisty and rather dull. I particularly objected to spending a whole km running around Manchester United’s car park. Mile marking could also have been better but overall it's a decent training run with an ok t-shirt and the usual cheap medal. I’m a bit disappointed with my time being a minute down on the Castle Rock 10k and into the 46s but the main thing is that I’m still not injured.

We head back to Daughter’s for brunch, a bit of a Three Quarters English then we leave her in peace and head home via Salford Tip where we dump a huge TV that someone gave her even though she didn’t want one. It’s so big it has to go in the boot which means we have to displace Doggo into the car where he sits regally on the backseat. He simply can’t believe his good fortune. In fact, he is so uncharacteristically well behaved and statuesque that we leave him there. Of course he daren’t move a muscle in case we stop and put him back in the boot.

In the evening we go for drinks in Stapleford then home for a Park curry.

(Sunday 4^th September)

A Nice Pair

I often offer to walk the boys to give L a break but she always knocks back my offer. Today she tells me that I should definitely have walked them because she got delayed by a BBC Radio Nottingham reporter in a short summer dress, heels and no dog. Which is not something you normally see in the morning.

Now here's me thinking she meant the reporter was right up my street when actually she was thinking that the subject matter was. Wheelie bins. L says she crossed the road to avoid the reporter but that didn't work. Then she told her to leg it to catch me but that didn't work either as her heels wouldn't permit. 

It was all about councils fining people who leave their bins out on the street. As I always put our bin at the end of our path and not actually on the pavement I’ve always felt the council should be fining themselves if it’s left out on the pavement as they put it there not me. They should return it to where they got it from. Equally though there's no excuse for the owners leaving them out for another day.

At least L seemed happy that the reporter said she had a nice pair. They are a very nice pair even if they do bark a lot.

If that wasn’t enough excitement, L’s office were having Olympics Day celebrations today and someone pulled their hamstring in the 'picking a box of cornflakes off the floor with your teeth’ event.  Then there was the paper plane making (possibly javelin making) contest and the running track they had marked out in the corridor with parcel tape. It all sounds so awesome. Why didn’t we think of doing that?

It’s not looking much like tennis weather at the moment as there are people rowing boats up and down our street. L offers to provide a mop, if it isn’t being used in her Olympics that is.

It fines up though and tennis goes ahead although I have to go down in person to book as the website wouldn’t let me book online. I lose in three sets and then we head off to the Victoria for refreshments.  

(Thursday 4^th August)

Three Day Week

I’m on the bike this morning and L’s in the pool. The pool is apparently packed (four of them) but not as packed as the road (hundreds of us).

The BBC reports on some research that suggests a three day working week is optimal for the over 40s. Well, I’m sure everyone would work better if they only had to do three days a week but then there’s plenty of youngsters who would pale at the thought of doing that much.

L cadges a lift over to Mickleover with us as we head off dog training. In the Masons afterwards the beer menu is Bass, Harvest Pale, Pedigree and Speckled Hen. OMG. They really are starting to take the ****. I know some people are reassured by such dullness but I’m not one of them. 

(Tuesday 19^th April)