A Hanging Offence

I cycle in this morning through the fog.

At lunchtime I send L to Waterstones to see if she can find any maps of the Pyrenees. Then I realise my mistake. I hasten to add that she is only allowed in the maps section and she is to be escorted straight there. She doesn’t find any.

I cycle to the pool after work and find the only lane with any space in is in the fast lane where a girl is doing backstroke, slowly, but on her own. This is pretty much a hanging offence but still I beg her not to go when she bales out because I know once she does... and it happens straight away... a fast bloke is going to get in. Damn. That's the end of my gentle swim.

L has washed her puffer jacket and it’s come out flat. Oh dear. Yet I read on various websites that the technical way of fixing this is to tumble dry it with a few tennis balls. Isn’t technology great?  

However as it dries it puffs up again all on its own, so the tennis balls are unnecessary, as is the tumble dryer, which we don’t have anyway. Which leaves the tennis balls free for other uses such as, funnily enough, the one L’s physio has already suggested. L has been told to pack a tennis ball to give her bad ankle a massage on holiday. Isn't it amazing what you can with a tennis ball?

(Wednesday 6^th March)

Don't Ask How We Are

‘Don't ask how we are’. Ah. I won’t then but L tells me anyway. This morning they were ‘escorted’ off the park by a pack of six deer, or the ‘bloody things’ as she calls them. Ah. An eventful morning for them then.

As is mine. I get a puncture; well I suppose it was about due. Of course I should have hushed this up and I certainly shouldn’t have told L. Not just as I’ve had her bike serviced and she’s preparing to relaunch her cycling career. The very thought of a puncture sends shivers down her spine. She'd rather be attacked by a heard of female deer.

I have my swimming stuff with me but the thing is I’m expecting another puncture on the way home because I rushed the tube change and when I do that I usually end up trapping the inner tube and yep... damn. I fix it again, take my time this time, do a better job, make it home but skip the swim.

There’s not really time now, not with dog class, where MD is brilliant. If only he could do that at shows.

(Wednesday 11th April)