No Trains, No Buses, No Road

I go to work on Monday on the bus, this was a mistake. It appears that Derby is officially closed, at least if you are coming from Nottingham. No trains, no buses, no road.

There are no trains running due to track work at Derby Railway Station. The replacement buses along with the normal buses like the one I’m on are all stuck in the traffic because the A52 has now been reduced to one lane until 26th August. The school holidays are apparently the time to do this because it’s quieter. Not now it isn’t. I arrive an hour late for work.

At home the Lad continues to have fun\wreak havoc (delete as applicable). His party trick is pulling all the washing off the line so that he can eat the clothes pegs. L warns him he's still on probation and suggests putting up a video camera to keep track of the chaos during the day. We could but he’d probably eat that too.

On Tuesday, I attempt to get to work by car. I make it and I’m only ten minutes late after trying several different routes of entry. Result.

After our rather wet dog show at the weekend I am recruited do some tent building on Wednesday evening as we need to erect them again to dry them out. However a task force gets up there in the afternoon and therefore there is nothing left for me to do. Result.

(Wednesday 1^st August)

First In The Queue

L and Daughter go for a run (again) tonight. Those are words that have rarely been spoken in the past but are now fast becoming second nature to us. They are being used almost as much as phrases like ‘ball chucking’, well perhaps not quite.

I go off for a plod of my own after work and run 16.7km, according to my watch, before getting the bus the rest of the way home. I was almost tempted to run all the way but didn’t want to overdo it and twang something or get attacked by bird of prey like some bloke was.

L and I apologise to each other for being late home and I offer to kiss and make up but MD says he’s first in the queue for recompense.

(Wednesday 2^nd August)

One Man And His Two Dogs

After doing in the inaugural Nottingham Run 5:30 last year (also the inaugural UK one), this year L proposes the inaugural Derby Run 5:30. So the alarm goes off at 4:00am which is even a bit early for Doggo.

The event starts outside the Guildhall, a rare public building in Derby that hasn’t yet been closed by the council. Parking is easy as street parking isn’t chargeable until 8:00am. Perhaps there are some advantages of the early start time after all.

It’s a small but select group including L and her friend who are briefed, warmed up and then set off on their way. If the runners are a small but select group then the supporters are practically one man and his two dogs but we’re a raucous bunch, difficult to ignore.

Later when I get to work it does in fact feel like I’ve been up hours but imagine how the dogs feel. They'll be in their beds or in ours, depending on whether they’ve jimmied the gate open or not.

The phenomenon of Pokémon Go hits Pride Park, in that we have zombies walking down our road staring into their mobile phones and disrupting the traffic. Apparently one of Pikachu’s mates is holed out behind the recycling bins at number 36. Who’d have thought?

L instructs that if she arrives home this evening without having been to the gym I am to either lock her out or deprive her of her Friday night. How I do that without depriving myself of my own Friday night is not clear and they think Brexit is difficult to achieve.

 (Friday 15^th July)

There’s Nothing Like A Bit Of Pain

We head back from Scarborough this morning and we get back into Derby for 1pm where I drop L off at the hospital. I had booked into a dog show today at Catton Park but it’ll already be half over by now and it’s raining... So I head home to listen to Derby’s 2:30pm kick off against Brighton instead. Its ends 1-1, with Brighton grabbing a last gasp equaliser.

The fun isn’t over there though because, in a desperate attempt to be fit for the Leeds Half Marathon this Sunday, L has booked me a session with her pub singing Pilates teacher who also moonlights as sport masseur. He comes to us and brings all his own equipment including his own table. There’s nothing like a bit of pain to round off a Bank Holiday weekend.

I need a few bottle of dark to recover after that.

(Monday 2^nd May)