Up A Bracket

The Lad looked absolutely gutted when we both left for work on Wednesday morning. What no beach today? I’m just as gutted as he is. It’s a look he maintains all day long on Dog TV.

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 5^th September)

British Bulldog In The Pool

The Sheffield Half has a new route and it’s a hilly one. How refreshing! Perhaps everyone else is as bored with ‘fast and flat’ as I am. I’m tempted to enter.

It’s just a shame it’s now called the Yorkshire Half. Personally I can’t see how calling it that helps promote Sheffield.

Dogging is off again, no great surprise there. So I shall swim, cook and then I may even hang some curtains... as I now have something to put on the new rails I put up on Sunday.

The pool is absolutely heaving with almost everyone trying to do lengths but with only two of the lanes in, it’s more like a game of British Bulldog, trying not to get tangled up with someone coming the other way.

It’s probably almost as violent as L’s evening, which she spends boxing and sharing a punch bag with a bloke. Sounds like just the sort of workout she needed.

(Monday 16^th February)