The Long Road North

It’s 5am Saturday morning. We are up and on the long road north e.g. the M6.

First stop Preston and a near underwater Parkrun. I drop L off and hope it’s on.

Second stop Bilsborrow and an equally underwater dog show, which is thankfully indoors but the access roads and the surrounding fields are well flooded. I make it there with two minutes to spare to walk our first course.

The rain is now incessant, I pity anyone parkrunning because the run does go ahead.

At the dog show, run one was very good but MD missed a contact. I thought he got it but the judge disagreed. We come 5^th even with those 5 faults, we would have won had he got that contact.

After I’ve walked my next course I head out into the monsoon to collect L from the bus. However I’m a bit late and she has already started swimming for it. I manage to rescue her before she gets too far out of her depth.

In the afternoon we record a decent 9^th place and then he leads the jumping for ages but our time is finally beaten. We finish 2^nd. Not a bad day all in all.

In the evening we head out for a few beers in the Blue Monkey and the Borlase.

(Saturday 5^th December)

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)

A Royal Baby?

Apparently Kate Middleton is pregnant. I don't know how they’ve kept that quiet but the secrets out now and this weekend The Sunday Times are going to publish ‘A Prince is Born: Royal Baby Souvenir Issue’, a 16-page collectors' edition. I suppose if Wayne Rooney’s life can warrant multiple biographies then I’m sure an unborn baby is entitled to 16 pages.

I take delivery at work of the trophies for this weekend's dog show. All eleven rather heavy boxes of them. I manage to get them all in the car but the boot might be scraping along the floor as I drive home.

After making it home and unloading the car, I head off to training with the boys. Which takes place in rather hot and sticky conditions with towards the end constant rumblings of thunder overhead.

As we drive home, the thunder starts to be accompanied with a rather impressive light show. Doggo is already getting worried and even more so when, just before we get home, the monsoon arrives, leaving us marooned in the car on the drive for a while before I decide to leg it inside.

Unfortunately Doggo decides there’s no way he’s legging it anywhere in such weather and refuses point blank to move, leaving me remonstrating with him and getting wetter and wetter at the same time. Eventually, after a good shove, he’s out and legging it to the front door as well.

(Monday 22^nd July)

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)