Fixed Penalty Notice

On the bus again, still tapering, not that cycling would have been much fun anyway as it still hasn’t stopped raining since it sabotaged our tennis last night. The forecast says it might carry on until next Thursday's game.

I get an official looking later through the post which turns out to be a fixed penalty notice for red light jumping. I don’t remember doing that, in fact I don’t even remember being in the car that night. L confesses. Oops.

(Friday 19^th May)

The Pickle Incident

Somebody has sabotaged my coffee this morning, swapping it for decaff. That’s nasty work and not what you want when you’re suffering from a case of over enthusiasm on a hilly half marathon. At least I made it up the stairs at work unaided. Which is always a good start. Apparently we're out of the hard stuff, which isn't good news.

L gets out her bike, describes it as fraught and then complains of indigestion brought on by the stress of it all or I could have been last night’s Nasi Goreng. On top of that she’s planning on running with MD tonight. I’ll get the wine ready.

I’m clearly having a bad day. First the decaff, then when I get home and unpack the shopping, I drop a jar of pickle on the kitchen floor which explodes in impressive style. Then as soon as I’ve cleaned that up Doggo goes into the bedroom and vomits. He always has to go into the bedroom to do this and stupidly I’d left the bedroom door open so that he could. In fact he’s probably been waiting all day for someone to come home and open that door, just so that he can do this.

The pickle incident was completely the fault of the teenager on the checkout at Sainsbury’s. He insisted on scanning everything through as soon as I put it on the belt. So by the time I’d unloaded everything, he already had most of it piled up chaotically waiting for me at the other end. I couldn’t decide whether to ask if he was new or just stupid, so did neither.

I briefly considered paying him, as he sat there tapping his fingers repeating the total of my bill, just to see whether he would then pile the next customers shopping on top of mine but in the end just decided to ignore him totally and to pack things away as slowly as possible.

This was how my normal careful system of packing went awry, which was how the heavy jar of pickle came to be at the top of the bag, from where it could leap to freedom, rather than where it should have been at the bottom.

Having mopped everything up, I then train MD in the garden, taking the edges off him before his run with L. Which I’m sure he’s looking forward to, if only to see what discarded chips, kebabs, burgers etc he can find en route.

(Monday 19th September)

Sabotage?

I take the dogs out again this morning and L will be pleased to know one of them was a bit gobby. So he doesn’t just save it for her.

L was at the gym, where she is convinced that someone has been going around tightening the treadmills. Sabotage? I’m not sure that I understand what she means.

She says they’ve become harder to run on. Perhaps she’s just having a mini fitness crisis. Me too! I think we’re both still reeling from our Sleaford ‘training’ run. I did consider running myself this morning but I wasn't sure that the old legs would have been up for it. It must have been all that Lincolnshire mud.

It is Derby’s Winter Beer Festival tonight, which has been moved to the Roundhouse College from it's old home in the Darwin Suite of the Assembly Rooms.



I go straight from work and arrange to meet L inside. The Roundhouse is a good venue for a beer festival except for the fact that with it being round in shape there are no corners to slump in after you’ve had too many 8%ers.

According to the beer list there’s an 11%er from Burton Bridge. L likes to start with a good one, perhaps I’ll get her one in. Then again, perhaps we best leave that until last.

I’m 2-0 up by the time L arrives but she soon sets about reducing the deficit. Good job she eased herself back in with a glass of wine the other night after going temporarily teetotal after Scotland.

My father pops down to join us, except he can’t get in. It’s only just after 8.00 and the venue is full. Instead we talk through the iron railings. If you’ve ever been to the Roundhouse, it's a bit like a prison with its high fences and security controlled gates. Presumably its all to stop the students escaping. Good to see the college is taking education seriously. It’s a shame he can’t get in but good for his wallet. Its £5 to get in and no reduction for OAP’s, yet if you’re under 26 you get in free.

We leave just after 9.30 because the beer range is already starting to reduce alarmingly quickly. If you were planning to come down Saturday... sorry, we drank all the good stuff.

(Friday 25th February)