How Not To be A Bitch

I join L and the boys on the park this morning and then take the car to work. I still have a hobble after Sunday’s hill climbing and I’m still walking a bit like Doggo, who’s nearly sixteen, but then when has a good sniff and a zigzag hurt anyone. 

Plus I really must get a haircut, needs must, the few remaining strands of my are getting in my eyes. L also gets her hair done today and apparently goes for the Cadbury's Dairy Milk look. I don’t.

Once in work, rather than working, L is looking up the likes of ’10 easy ways to not be a bitch’, for some reason.

In a nutshell this comes down to the five ‘gets’ - get some self control, get some food, get some exercise, get laid and get a puppy. Sounds about right.

(Tuesday 11^th April)

Number 71

L’s unread book pile is now ‘down’ to 127 and I get the honour of picking the next one to be read. They have all been catalogued and numbered (very OCD). I go number 71. Which is apparently chic lit but then a lot of them probably are. 

Then I hear there is secret undocumented number 128, ‘British Politics’, which has been removed from the list in case it got selected. Russian hackers are rumoured to be behind it.

I go to the gym and put in 15k on the Watt Bike. Then its home to not chuck balls, that is unless they are very gentle ball rolls, as MD is injured. MD of course disagrees with this and to be fair his hobble does seem to be rapidly decreasing, so hopefully he will be fit for Saturday.

(Thursday 5^th January)

A Mere Spectator

Today is Derby 10k day and again I am a mere spectator as L attempts to hobble round it. It’s not one of my favourite events but I would have entered if I’d known for sure that I’d be uninjured but that’s always hard to gauge in advance. L clearly hoped she’s be uninjured but it hasn’t really worked out that way.

So I spectate with the boys and L does ok (for an injured person) but she won’t be happy (even though she’s injured person). It’s a nice touch that they are offering sick bags at the finish this year. I assume they didn't want anyone up-chucking on the pitch or perhaps they were just for the Forest Fans.

Afterwards we pop into see my parents before we head off to Leamington Spa to hand deliver 15,000 Yens to Son for his trip to Japan, if he remembers to get on the plane this time. We have lunch in the White Horse.

Then back in Nottingham we have a night out at the Horse & Jockey in Stapleford.

(Sunday 17^th April)

Race Face

On the bus again, bailing out on a foggy cycle ride with a dodgy calf. It would probably have gone ok but it's sensible to miss it.

L worries when I’m not sensible and then worries even more when I am. Am I going to be fit for Cardiff? Doubtful. I may just have to hobble round slowly again. Although, as L repeatedly points out, I was still faster than her at Paris. So if she’s wants to be quick at Cardiff, just hobble with me.

Her concern of my injuries isn’t helped by the official photos from Paris where I look in total agony but then again, I always do. This is what my race face looks like, although this time I probably was genuinely in agony.

As I haven’t cycled I head off to the gym to do my training, spending half an hour with the underwear models is better than nothing. 

(Friday 11^th March)

Not Quite As Warm As It Looks

I was only twenty minutes late for work this morning, which wasn’t too bad for the bus. The M1 queue was tailing all the way back to QMC and probably beyond.

I attempt a run. Well, more of a 3k hobble. It wasn’t great and I conclude that the knee is not ready for anything like a 10k yet. I was also wheezing like a cart horse. Which I will put down to the not quite as warm as it looks weather rather than chronic unfitness.

Afterwards the knee doesn’t feel too bad... perhaps it has helped. All will become clear when I hobble into town later as I’m meeting a mate for a few beers. We stay in the Brunswick before moving to the Antibos nearby.

I eat way too much and lie dying on the bed later where L thinks, well, that I’m dying.

(Tuesday 25^th November)

Ridiculously Cheap

Eleven days to go.

I hobble to the bus, which perhaps isn’t the best omen. I catch one of those rare Citylink things and pay only £3.60 return using the previously pointless Genie card. This is ridiculously cheap. If they actually told somebody about it then they might actually get some customers.

I’m on the bus because I’m meeting an old school chum after work for a few pints and a meal at Wetherspoons. We really must stop eating at Wetherspoons.

(Wednesday 21^st May)

Too Much Ball

A bit of a long trek to Worcester today for a dog show. Doggo starts the day off and goes clear. Now to ruin the day and get MD out of the car.

Somehow I get a clear round out of him. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t pretty and we’re unlikely to get a rosette for it but at least it was clear. He seems tired for some reason, too much ball yesterday I think.

MD isn’t the only one who isn’t quick, my own sprinting isn’t impressive but I can do a mean steady hobble. So all set for tomorrow’s half marathon then.

After a pole down in his second run, his third is another clear. Blimey, two in one day. Sadly we knock poles and mess up the weaves in his last run.

Back home L has cooked naff sausages in anticipation of a rosette. It’s a good job they’re naff ones because we’re only 5^th. A rosette is a rosette though and we get another one for 14^th in the earlier class where I didn’t think we’d be placed. Makes it look like we did alright after all.

(Saturday 3^rd May)

Expressing Appreciation

At lunch time I collect a now repaired number two bike. So that should be fit for another couple of years of hammering.

L informs me she's off to have it all chopped off today, her hair that is. I have my black armband on. She says she's going for the Helen Mirren look. Only with darker hair, much younger and much more attractive. Other than that the likeness is uncanny. It’s just a shame it's not a bit longer.

L looks good and I try to express my appreciation but she tells me I'll be late for squash. Although I needn’t have rushed as my opponent is ten minutes late himself.

I feel fighting fit for tonight’s game. Well, more fighting than I was yesterday. It’s all relative. My opponent isn’t any better. He hobbles onto the court and I hobble off afterwards having lost 4-1. 

(Thursday 24^th October)