Battery Acid

Today is my first day on the bike this week and of course it rains. The heavens opened when I was about half way.

Squash is off, so today must be Friday as tomorrow can’t be Friday as we have the East Leake Night Trail and also Daughter is coming to stay.

Talking of the Night Trail, I get the head torches out but only one of them works. The second one has become corroded and nothing I do can seem to get it cleaned up. I look on the internet and they recommend dripping vinegar on the corroded bits to neutralize battery acid. It fizzes away beautifully and then when I’ve dried it out, it works! 

The light is still very faint so I try some more vinegar on the other side of the battery case. More fizzing and... now it doesn’t work at all plus everything smells like we’re in a chip shop.

(Thursday 10^th November)

Losing An Old Friend

A second day on the bike and I have to negotiate my way around a serious set of road works that have suddenly appeared in Spondon. They are in the process of laying down a new road surface and I notice that a pothole that I have been swerving around for the last eight years has finally gone. That pothole and I go back a long long way. 2006 in fact. It’s like losing an old friend.

Tennis tonight, which at first appears to be in some doubt as the heavens open just as I’m about to leave work. The rain eases and by the time I reach Nottingham, the roads are totally dry. Nottingham has missed the storm completely. So tennis goes ahead and I lose 6-3 6-1. We retire to the Victoria, along with the dogs who have joined me tonight with L and Daughter having gone off to punch the lights out of something or other at boxercise.

(Thursday 21^st August)

Maths Lesson

Second day.

Four more stalls arrive this morning and I have trouble fitting them all in because all the existing ones have spread themselves out to an excessive amount. A least the ice cream man seems happy today, as he sits counting his money. I tell him that there have been complaints that he hasn’t been giving our club members the agreed 50% discount.

I look around his van and can see now evidence of any prices on display at all. He explains that this is because he charges more at shows that his street price but he assures me that he’s been honouring the half price offer, charging £1 for a £1.50 cone. Err ok... I guess maths isn’t his strong point. I give him a quick lesson.

Today first aid duty brings a trapped finger and no ice packs to treat it.

The show itself is going well though. Everyone seems to like the new trophies and rosettes. Today even I get a rosette as MD comes 10^th. That was after two rather frustrating runs but at least we got the third one sort of right. Doggo is clear too, of course.

Then at around 7.30 in the evening the heavens open and rain arrives. Well it’s more of a monsoon actually and it last for a full eight hours.

We head off site in the car and drive to Burton. Where after a few failed attempts to find a pub serving food we opt for the liquid option whilst we formulate another plan. The curry house we can see from the pub looks the best bet.

It is and the food is very nice too. Good call.

We head back via a look at the 24 hour Thunder Run, which is taking place across the road from our show. I’ve always wanted to do this but I’m not jealous tonight as the runners valiantly soldier on in the torrential rain.

It’s nice, dry and cosy in our tent though. In fact it’s all very seductive with the elements doing their worst outside.

(Saturday 27^th July)

Famous Last Words

On the bike again today and it’s perfect conditions for it. Famous last words. No sooner am I five minutes into the ride home in the evening than the heavens open. Then comes the question whether to stop and kit up for the conditions or to press on. Delaying on this dilemma quickly makes the dilemma irrelevant as what is the point of putting dry waterproof clothes on top of wet clothes. I press on, getting wetter and wetter but warmed by the fact that I’m passing loads of static traffic that I would have been stuck in had I driven.

L’s Twelve Days of Fitmas has added Russian Twists (which I thought was a vodka based cocktail - perhaps it is) and a 3k dreadmill run. Even I think it sounds tough and it’s only day five.

Tonight is the dog club’s Christmas fun night, that I’ve been roped in to co-organising. Unfortunately all the games we organise seem to involve a lot of running and not just for the dogs. I also end up running two dogs myself, MD and another I’ve borrowed. A bloody fast one as well, that I have to try and keep up with.

What with cycling today as well, I’m well knackered, as is MD. Doggo isn’t though, he spends most of the night as a distant observer and will be a pain when we get home.

(Wednesday 19th December)

Squirrels, Cats, Dogs

I get up early this morning to walk the dogs as L heads off to get the train down to London where she’s working today.

It’s a very ‘busy’ walk. There were the usual distractions but they all seemed to be out in great numbers than usual today. Squirrels, cats, dogs, women in figure hugging Lycra, they all interrupted our progress.

Then I cycled to work and it was once again a bit chilly on the bike. I might have to accept the fact that it may not be shorts weather for much longer. Unless you’re the guy who lives at the far end of Wollaton, he cycles in shorts and a sleeveless top even when there’s ice on the ground. Although, he has told me that he does put a pair of gloves on when it gets really cold.

On the way home, I opt to head to the pool for my monthly splash around. Which wasn’t bad, once the slow person got out.

Then home, to take MD to dog class but just before we leave, I get a text telling me the trainer hasn’t turned up. So not much point going then, so I don’t. I go collect L, who’s now back in Nottingham, instead.

L then, rather bizarrely, in that she’s not done this for ages, with either dog and I’m not sure she ever has with MD, goes for a run with him. Well, at least, despite no dog class he gets his exercise.

(Wednesday 12th September)

In Defence Of The Male Honour

I’m back on the bike today. Tuesdays no need longer to be set aside for long runs because I don’t need to do any. I don’t have a half marathon in the pipeline until next year. Which sounds further away than it probably is.

Later, the moment I get on my bike at work and start to ride towards home, the heavens open. This means pulling over and piling on all the wet weather kit I can muster. I had planned on riding straight to the pool and going for a swim but there’s seems little point now. I’ve had my swim on the roads. The prospect of getting out of wet kit and then back into it again after swimming does not appeal. So I skip it.

One thing livens up the damp ride home. I catch and then tuck in behind a nice little bedraggled number on the road down into Sandiacre. Full lycra kit topped off with a waterproof jacket astride a sleek road bike. I know I should go past her in a whirr of testosterone, in defence of the male honour, but there’s always the risk that she might rise to the challenge, fight back and win.

We pull up together at the lights in Sandiacre and exchange the customary pleasantries. An American as it turns out. I wait for her tell me to ‘have a nice day’, which clearly it isn’t, but she doesn’t. Then I realise she’s waiting for the lad on the baby mountain bike that I passed back up the road. He pants up to us in his hoodie and a pair of those heavy cotton tracksuit trousers that have taken on far too much water and are hanging way below the decency line. Only four miles or so to my house he tells her. They do say opposites attract, don’t they.

So no problem defending said honour, as she seems compelled to dawdle along, not exactly with him but just ahead of him, as I push on for home through the rain.

When I arrive in Nottingham it’s barely raining and I don’t think L believes me that we’ve had a monsoon in Derby despite my sodden appearance.

(Tuesday 25th October)