Perfect Sense

On the bike today while L rushes off to Manchester. I’m owed sex apparently which is obviously the best kind of debt to be owed. I really must update the Standing Order or perhaps consider starting a Direct Debit.

My colleague and I try to get lunch in the Brunswick but it is rammed and they are not taking any food orders that haven’t been pre-booked. I do love the way they don’t look after their regulars. The backup option, and always a very poor one, is the Waterfall. Their only beer is very poor quality Doom Bar, which is a very poor ale anyway even before they get their hands on it. Lunch is a toasted sandwich.

L rubs it in my texting from Manchester where she is having lunch with Daughter and drinking Lees Christmas Plum Porter.

Birmingham City sack Gary Rowett, the best manager they’ve had in a very long time and who currently has them one point outside the play off zone. Makes perfect sense. At least that’s one less rival for promotion that we have to worry.

Then it’s dogging but, as L is in Manchester, it’s dogging without a beer at the end of it.

(Wednesday 14^th December)

Stexting

Back on the bike today, no punctures and no calf pulls. I’m not sure what the crazy woman has done to the outside of my leg though.

My dog club’s Winter Show gets a four page feature in this month’s dog agility magazine. Oooooh. Fame.

The Brunswick is inexplicably busy this lunchtime, so we have to do our pub lunch in the Waterfall for the first time in about a year. It hasn’t changed. The food is still simple but dull, the beer just plain dull (e.g. Doom Bar) but surprisingly not rancid for once. The place is as usual almost totally empty.

L is at pump class and sending her demands for the evening ahead of her by text. Is that stexting? Not sure. I shall comply anyway.

(Wednesday 16^th March)

A Traumatic Lunch

As I cycle to work, up the hill in Sandiacre, I realise I am being slipstreamed by a moped. It's like a reverse kierin. The cheek of the guy. He overtakes me once we’re back on the flat. Then later on I get overtaken by a bloke on a powered mountain bike. It must have some sort of electric motor on it because he wasn’t pedalling at all but was going at about 25 mph.

We attempt a pub lunch but are turned away from the Brunswick because they have no food. Then we turn ourselves away from the Waterfall as they have no beer. Then at the Victoria, we order to find the beer is rancid but stay anyway because by now we’re knackered even if we do now have to resort to Worthington. The fish and chips were good though, then we went running back to the Brunswick for something decent to wash it down with.

Tennis is off. My opponent’s back has gone again, so his spreadsheet is going to be a calamity this year. L goes boxing, she’s so diverse. 

(Thursday 14^th August)

Pub Singer

Another bike to work, so I may be crawling at squash tonight but my legs actually feel alright. I feel done in but in a fitter than normal sort of way.

We attempt the pub at lunchtime but the Brunswick’s kitchen is shut for a refurb. Any old excuse to deny us food. The Waterfall, sadly, has no Abbot only the dreaded Doom Bar.

Then in the pub after squash, where they have excellent beer, we end up sitting outside in the cold avoiding their pub singer. We may have to try elsewhere. 

(Thursday 17^th April)

Mischief

Squash is off again, so at least I can bike again. My opponent’s continued absence from squash is excellent news for my training. I could do with squash being off for the rest of the year.

We do a pub lunch but the Brunswick’s chef has gone AWOL again or ‘done herself a mischief’ according to the message on the door. She’s at a job interview I expect. So we end up at the Waterfall instead, consuming two pints of Abbot.

I cycle home and push L out of the door for her run.

(Thursday 3^rd April)

Faster Cyclists

Today I do manage to get astride the bike. The BBC tells us that faster cyclists are more attractive according to a study. Sadly I’m slowing down these days.

We attempt the Brunswick for lunch today but it is so busy we’d have no chance of getting food within the hour. They struggle when it’s empty. We go to the Waterfall instead, which is always empty and always fast with the food. Shame about the Doom Bar.

The weather is looking ‘a bit damp’ as I come to cycle home. That is a total understatement and I get soaked but it’s still far preferable to sitting in the massive traffic jam sprawling across Pride Park.

I dry off in time for squash and even win a game. 

(Thursday 6^th February) 

The Laws Of Profitable Economics

An end of the year pub lunch today but not at the Brunswick, which is not serving food despite a packed pub as they again, defy the laws of profitable economics. Instead we’re at the Waterfall, drinking their dodgy beer, in their empty pub but at least they’re serving food.

Later, I win a game in our final squash match of the year. So my knee is clearly improving a little.

L meets us at the Leisure Centre. She was originally going to walk the boys up but it's too wet for the pampered pooches. So I take them in the car. Instead she runs there but is late arriving. She has some fantastically inventive story about helping a blind man buy a train ticket from Leeds or something.

We then head for an end of season curry at the Three Spices in Ruddington. The Three Spices is in the back of the Three Crowns pub, which used to be a really good real ale pub but it’s lost its way recently. Six ales but nothing you’d go out of your way for. They even sell born again Shipstones. A beer I spent a large proportion of my youth trying to avoid. So we give it a go. It’s different to what I remember but it’s still not an experience you’d want to repeat terribly often.

The curry however is excellent and no one is put off their food as we recount the tale of Doggo and the scarf he ate, the 12 year old puppy that he is. The scarf that we then had to assist in the re-emergence of, intact, at the other end of his digestive system. In fact everyone seems to be finding it quite hilarious and not at all revolting. He's going to be the talk of the Christmas dinner tables.

Then I queue for 45 minutes on Derby County’s website to buy Chelsea tickets for my brother which go on sale at midnight. It’s proving to be a popular game. 

(Thursday 19^th December)