Living Dangerously

L’s the Birthday Girl today although she says I shouldn't be buying her a birthday present because I’ve already bought her the WAG boots.  She probably doesn’t mean that, so I treat her to a night out at the Championship Play Offs, watching them on the big screen at Pride Park Stadium. That’ll teach her. I do buy her a cycling top too.

L has always seen herself as a jinx... but I like living dangerously. She settles down with a book, a bucket of wine, a hot pork cob and vows not to peek at the screen. Hence the jinx is kept at bay and despite not playing terribly well, Derby win 2-1. 

(Thursday 8^th May)

Graduation

I take the boys for a quick session on the park before we drive over to Warwick for Son’s Graduation. When we arrive, L is rather appalled to find that our Graduand (a new word we learnt today) has not managed to get to the barbers or to run a razor across his face. The biggest shock though is his new suit trousers, which he seems to have washed. We know not why. L manages to rectify the situation somewhat by borrowing an iron off one of his flatmates and at least restoring some sort of shape to them.

L has bought him a watch as a graduation present, which I was deeply sceptical that he would ever use, but he genuinely seems thrilled with it.

We head up to Stoneleigh Park where there is a park and ride in operation and soon we deliver a somewhat stressed looking Son to the university where they kit him out in his robe, hood and mortar board. Then we have to re-kit him out when we decide that it’s best if he removes his suit jacket, as he looks like he’s about to melt.

With only two guests allowed in the hall, Daughter has to watch in the cinema or via a big screen outside. Considering the heat, she opts for the cinema.

L and I take our places in the hall, which really isn’t big enough, well in advance and are entertained (broadly speaking) by the University band/choir. It’s all a bit old hat really and the ceremony probably hasn’t changed much since the University was formed almost 50 years ago.

Then there’s the speech from the Vice Chancellor, that probably also hasn’t changed much in 50 years either. It was also very similar, and as long, as his welcome speech three years ago when he promised that before too long we wouldn’t recognise our child. We were sceptical of course but he was proved right eventually. Although I’m not even sure Son would recognise himself at this moment.

Then the long process of calling up the students one by one starts. There is a pause for the awarding of an Honorary Degree, a process that has always confused me. No matter how deserving the person is, and this person was very deserving, surely there still needs to be a link to the University or the area? I couldn’t spot one in this case.

Son was close to the end of those being called up and he managed to not trip or anything, as he picked up his degree. Which was not rolled up in a scroll, as I thought was tradition. Refund please!

Once over, the band/choir, who must have been knocking the alcohol to get them through the ceremony burst into life and start dancing in aisles. Now if only they'd done that from the start.

 

Then it’s out into the sun again, where the official photographer has to organise all the new graduates into some sort of order for a group photo. This takes some time obviously. It all ends with the traditional throwing of the hats in the air. No one goes against the safety briefing and attempts to skim their mortar board across the heads of the assembled crowd, sadly.

Then more photos, both from us and from the official photographers back inside. Then it’s back to Leamington for a celebratory meal at our regular, the White Horse, actually it’s getting a bit predictable and we might need to think of somewhere else soon. Perhaps Son’s new place of employment... the pub where he starts work on Thursday.

(Tuesday 16^th July)

Crossing The Humber

Today we head up to the Hull area for an intriguing half marathon, well at least I thought so, but not one for the bridge-phobics because the Humber Bridge Half Marathon crosses the bridge twice.

L is not usually one for bridges, so she might have to shut her eyes, but then that could have nasty side effects. Although I think they have barriers... I hope they have barriers and hopefully no crosswinds.

Last year they had a few problems with the weather, it was extremely hot and a poor chap died as a result. This has meant an earlier 9am start this year to avoid the heat of the day but heat shouldn’t be a problem this time, as we have rain on tap.

Car parking is good, if a little muddy and right across from the start. Although toilet facilities seem limited, there are plenty of bushes.

The start is rather dramatic. First we have a period of silence for the unfortunate chap from last year, this quickly turns into applause and then while this is going on the gun and klaxon signal the race start.

First a two mile loop around the local area of Hessle, which strings the field out a little before the first crossing of the bridge, for which they have closed a lane to traffic. Although it’s still a bit narrow and it’s a choice between tripping over feet or the cones at the edge of the course.

It’s a long bridge, almost 1.4 miles in length, so you get plenty of time to ‘enjoy’ the experience. Waiting at the other end is an inordinately long slip road, about a mile long, that seems to edge uphill forever. Once that is out of the way the course takes a largely flat route around the area of Barton Upon Humber.

The early rain had eased to drizzle by start time and then soon after stopped completely, creating near perfect race conditions. I was having a good run and by nine miles I was two minutes up on my Benbecula time meaning going under 1:40 was a real possibility.

That was when they threw a nasty little hill at us and then when that was out of the way we ran into a headwind on the return bridge crossing, using the footpath rather than the main carriageway this time. All of which mean I came in at just over 1:41.

Water was mostly in cups, which meant I ended up wearing more than I drank, although there was one bottle stop and they had a sponge stop too. I love a good sponge. I carried it all the way to the finish and then brought is home as a souvenir.

In the evening it’s the England v Italy match, which we watch on the big screen in the Ropewalk. Even L, although admittedly I didn’t give her much choice. She probably wished she’d brought her knitting.

This was after we'd had a Sunday Roast in the Borlase, which empties soon afterwards and is closed by 10pm, as everyone else finds somewhere showing the match.

Well I was impressed. Finally we have a manager who can see we’re not as good as these foreigners at this tippy-tappy stuff, otherwise known as passing to players in the same colour shirt, and we never will be. What we can do well though is bloody minded defending and you won’t see a better example of it all tournament. Oddly the TV only concerns itself with stats such as possession and shots on target, totally ignoring the art of defending.

Now if only we’d have had a goal poacher in the mould of a Shearer or a Lineker, we’d have nicked that game.

(Sunday 24th June)