Not At Hootenanny

I am at work and L isn’t, so she takes the boys out where she loses three tennis balls and one dog. I'm sure she's losing the tennis balls on purpose to cut down on how many grotty ones we've got around house while she did get the dog back. The Lad disappeared through the park fence and was then in a complete panic when he couldn’t get back. He’s done that with me as well and clearly hasn’t learnt his lesson yet.

I finish work at 3:30 and head off to do an hour in the Velodrome gym. Then in the evening L and I can’t decide what to do. We should have probably stuck to our plan of going to the Lakes but last year's traumas with Doggo have put us off a bit.

In Nottingham more and more places are becoming ticket only or simply closing early. I think a lot of people are now heading down to the Old Market Square which has really taken off. We must do that one year but you still need somewhere to go first.

So we stay in, I cook Thai and we watch Hootenanny. You know the thing that we weren’t invited to.Not that we'd actually be there tonight as it was filmed a couple of weeks ago but it would have been nice looking out for one's self.

I suggest we open L’s bottle of Champagne that’s in the wine rack and I assumed was from her boss but she tells me it’s mine from my 50^th Birthday. Ah yes. Your memory goes at 50 you know. Anyway I don't really like Champagne and L’s cut back on her drinking so we make do with a small bottle of Prosecco between us instead. Not that I like Prosecco either!

(Monday 31^st December)

Softening The Blow

I have an early start as I’m down in London for the day for work. This means L has an early start too because once I’m up and gone, MD won’t let her dally in bed. So I soften the blow by taking her up a cup of tea, which just winds him up even more.

My trip goes well, so well in fact that at first I think I’ll be done by 10.30 but they manage to find a few issues to detain me but nothing major. They were also surprisingly nice to me considering the problems they've had but I’m still forced to dine out at Tesco Express for lunch.

I do finish in time to grab a pint in the Parcel Yard before I pop into the First Class lounge at St Pancras. Sadly there is no champagne on offer in there, only the same biscuits and coffee you get on the train.

(Friday 27^th October)

It's Inseine

 I’ve told L that no races are allowed in Paris and that I’m forcing her to see the sights, like I ought to do next time we go to London because we never do the touristy things. If the weather’s good I’ve offered her a jog along the Seine but the weather isn’t looking good.

We walk along the Seine instead and along the Champs-Elysées. What a bloody long road that is. For what seemed the hours the Arc de Triomphe never seemed to get any nearer. 

Then finally having got there we head off to the Eiffel Tower, where we go up one of the legs. Up in the lift then down the steps. L tells me I’m on my own going to the top.

It’s been howling a wet and windy gale all day and at the top it’s certainly interesting. I stand there swaying in time to the rocking of the famous monument wondering how it’s managed to stay standing for 125 odd years. The champagne bar at the top wasn't all it promised to be.

We continue our tour of Paris by taking in not one but two Frog Pubs, the Frog XVI and The Frog and Rosbif, with a trip to Notre Dame sandwiched in between. This was the original Frog pub with Frog of course being the ‘affectionate’ term we use to describe the French and a ‘Rosbif’ being their retort.

(Friday 20^th February)

What Goes Down...

A bit of a hangover this morning, after some far from ideal race preparation. I blame the free champagne. I’m also not sure the full cooked breakfast will help but it’s paid for, so has to be consumed.

All week I’ve been assuming the Liversedge Half Marathon near Huddersfield will be off but it isn’t. We awake to a view of hills, hills and more hills. As we drive to the race HQ at the Roberttown Community Centre in the Spen Valley, it doesn’t get any flatter. Where we collect our numbers along with around 500 or so others.

The course was worryingly downhill for the first mile. What goes down must come back up and it did. Enjoyable though. I like a bit of a challenge. After a bit of a long steady climb there’s another down at around five miles, which is a more violent plummet.

We cross a ford a mile or later at Brighouse, they do let us use a bridge, and then there’s the steepest climb of the day up Thornhills Beck Lane but thankfully it’s quite short. The route also has a few flat sections which gives you a bit of a break from the upping and downing, especially the downing which I find hard on my legs.

It’s all relatively scenic and offers good views of the M62. If you look into the distance you can even see Hartshead Moor Motorway Services. There are drinks at around four miles, eight miles and then a bit too quickly at 10 miles but as we were passing the first drinks station again, only in the other direction, it was perhaps understandable.

Then we’re on to Windy Bank Lane, which isn’t (windy) in either direction, this is our second visit to this stretch of road. Then we’re almost done.

Not a great time, it was hardly likely to be, but not bad either.

L kindly drives me home, where nicely knackered from the weekend we forgo our usual Sunday film and stay in. It would have been an act of cruelty to have scraped the dogs off the bed. Not that they’ve done a great deal to warrant so much sleep.

(Sunday 12th February)

A Little Bit Fit

Neither L nor I ache as much as we did after the Lakeland Dirty Double. So I guess we must be just a little bit fit.

MD enjoys this evening’s dog training so much that twice when I try to get him to go in the boot of the car after his training is complete; twice he turns heels to run back into the training arena for another crack at the equipment. I have to admire his dedication but it’s time for Doggo’s walk around the car park, then it’s time to barter with the cheese man for a slab of Stilton and then its home time.

Well after I’ve rescued L from the International Hotel where she’s talking champers and trying to negotiate the minefield that buying some is. She welcomes my advice but speaking as someone who has yet to find champagne that he likes that could be difficult. Do I recommend we go cheap on the assumption that I won’t like any of it or go expensive in the hope that you might get what you pay for? Looking at those prices... decision made. Hope her folks aren’t reading this, as it’s for their anniversary bash on Saturday.

(Monday 21st November)