Apparently it's now sexist to give a woman a fitness type
present because you'd be intimating that they’re overweight. So if I wanted, say, to
buy L a £3,000 Peloton exercise bike she’d be offended, throw the bike in the
bin and leave me. Rather than, say, do the sensible thing e.g. say thank you
and flog it on ebay.
It seems ok, however, to buy one for a man. Well, at least, I
think that’s the case but then I also thought treating men and women
differently was the definition of being sexist even though they are different,
obviously. Just shows what I know.
Then again, what does buying a girl black tights, a padlock
and a stick of Body Glide say about her? Just don’t ask the BBC. And does it
make me sexist for buying them for her, even though that’s what she’s asked
for?
On my list is this year’s bike part - two sets of brake shoes, along with
running shoes and a sports bag. All of which obviously imply that I think that
L thinks I’m fat. She really will be running off with someone more exciting.
Meanwhile L’s Mum however is buying her perfume. Now there’s
a can of worms just waiting to be opened. I’m sure her Mum doesn’t think she
smells. Oh to be one of the perpetually offended.
Tonight L starts a new Pilates class for three weeks at the St
Leonard's Centre opposite our local library. I couldn’t possibly comment.
Today L works from home, shutting herself away from the phones, with the intention of cracking on with her work and of course kicking footballs...
Actually she has a plan to avoid this by taking the boys on a really long walk first. I hope she knows what she’s doing because you change their morning routine at your peril. Any variation in route is invariably met with a quiet rebellion from Doggo. A sit down protest and 'that look' he does when you veer from the usual. While MD always has his eye on the clock, counting down the seconds to breakfast time, which he thinks is always overdue. He’s a bit of a diva when he’s hungry. That new Snickers advert is so him.
L contemplates feeding them first but then MD would just want his breakfast, again, when they got back. Can of worms.
At the moment tonight’s run isn’t looking too much fun. We’ve had some pretty torrential rain today between the sun showers. It’s sun one moment, heavy rain the next, then back to sun. It’s meteorological Russian roulette.
At 5pm, we appear to be between thunderstorms, so there’s no excuse really for not going for it. The dry spell lasts for about 45 minutes and then the rain gets progressively harder. Still I manage my target of eight miles and then shelter in the bus stop when the worst of the thunder and lightning arrives.
It’s debatable whether any bus will have me but there isn’t any arriving anyway. I wait 30 minutes for the ‘every 10 minutes’ bus by which time my calves are getting well cramped with all the hanging around in the wet.
When a bus does arrive, it takes an age to get home. Derby Road has been blocked by a fallen tree and a diversion is in place. This and the resulting gridlock, explains the lack of buses.
I get home to find that luckily the start to the England v Sweden match has also been delayed, seems they’ve had rain too, so I actually still get to see the whole thing.
It’s not a bad match, but it’s so like watching a typical game in the Championship, say Burnley against Watford. I like it, probably because it seems so reassuringly familiar. Then I’m off the sofa as Watford take the lead.
Burnley valiantly fight back and score twice to go in front but Watford aren't finished. They come from behind to secure a famous victory and a fighting chance of a quarter final against one of the Premier League sides, Manchester City or Chelsea or maybe Spain.
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