Smothered In Dog Oil

It’s the morning of  the Nottingham ‘Piddly Little’ Tri and we’re at Parkrun. Obsessive? Well, L's not actually getting a crafty Parkrun in first, she scanning bar codes for them. Her event doesn't start until a leisurely 12.30.

Unlike the rather wet outlook for my race tomorrow, today is glorious sunshine for hers. We arrive and I head off for my briefing at 11am whilst she gets herself ready for her actual event. Their briefing will be on the start line.

L is probably still proclaiming that she can’t see further than next weekend’s Hellathon as awaits the start covered in her race tattoos. They’re very fetching, she can keep those on for later.

The event is also known as the Sprint Distance which is a 750m swim, 20k bike and a 5k run. It’s also a qualifier for ITU Sprint Distance World Championships and ETU Sprint Distance European Championships. Gulp.

The dogs and I put on our 'we are supporting...' stickers and settle in to watch.

My girl has a solid swim and a great run. It’s on the run that she’s rapidly reeling people in and even the commentator comments on that. We just need to work a tad on the bike leg... but that's not going to be an easy subject to broach to a cycle-phobic.

I grab a pre-event massage and a young girlie lathers me up with dog oil. 

Slightly appalled at what she smothering me in I double check that it is not (a) a product designed for using on dogs nor (b) a product made from dogs. She assures me it’s neither and it’s from Yorkshire, which explains everything. Then she digs her thumb in my calf to shut me up.

Actually she’s very gentle, which may or may not be what I need but it’s not what I’m used to with Dancing Boy, my usual torturer. When she’s finished with my calves she also asks if there’s anything else I’d like massaging as we have five minutes. All this customer service for a tenner but I decline her kind offer. I mean what’s five minutes.

I am sharing the massage tent with a chap with a very swollen ankle who is getting it professionally taped up. Apparently he injured himself at one of those dangerous parkrun things but he’s hopeful of completing the swim and the bike, then ‘seeing how it goes’ on the run. Badly I would guess.

L then leads me astray and takes me for two very welcome and calming pints in Stapleford before pasta back home.

(Saturday 30^th May)

Chart Nostalgia

It has been announced that all new albums and singles will soon be released globally on Fridays. This is to align the whole world so that internet sales make sense.

This means that the new chart can also now be compiled and revealed on a Friday rather than the current Sunday. This has sent everyone off on a wave of nostalgia about the demise of the Sunday Chart Show Countdown.

The real nostalgia though is for when the chart was released on a Tuesday lunchtime. That was the earliest they could do it because it took two days to compile, by pen and paper probably. It was repeated on the Tuesday early evening show and then again on the Wednesday Breakfast show. The chart was a big thing is those days. The Sunday show was just a rather late recap of sales figures that were by then a week old but this was when you taped your favourites.

Every Tuesday we used to gather around a radio at 12:45 during our lunch break, waiting for Newsbeat to finish. Then they played the top five in reverse order without giving the rest of the chart away. After playing number two you’d then get the countdown in full before they’d play the number one just before 1pm at which point we had to leg it back to class. It was a brilliant format, compulsive listening and quite a social thing. 

All of that went when technology moved on and they could collate the sales data faster meaning they could move the initial reveal to Sundays. Sadly they kept the Sunday format rather than the Tuesday format, meaning you had to go through the whole top forty, taking ages, before you found out what was number one. The tension went and everyone I knew stopped tuning in, at least until the last ten minutes or so. It was a major marketing cock up.

I would say bring back Top of the Pops, put it on a Friday and make that the chart reveal. Just don’t forget to do a CRB check on the presenters this time.

L wishes me good luck with dancing boy as I head off for another sports massage. The chap is a former dancer but a rather evil masseur. He doesn’t disappoint on that front.

(Friday 27^th February)