A Wasted Journey

Talking to someone at work who went to the London Marathon yesterday, it appears that supporting someone in the race is not what it was. You can now get an App that tells you where your favourite person is all the time making seeing them at various points much easier. So painstakingly photocopying the A-Z of London, marking the course on it and then computing all the best tube routes from point to point is perhaps a thing of the past.

The weather has been iffy all day and there is a dogging pitch inspection scheduled for 5:30. Much to my surprise it is given the go ahead but is then cancelled as I drive there amid a massive downpour. I turn around and head back home, in all a forty minute wasted journey that could have been spent in the swimming pool. Swimming is something I need to restart with Leeds Tri coming up in June.

Too late for that now, so I keep the already confused boys in the car and then confuse them even more by heading off to Hargate. This is where we normally go on a Tuesday or a Wednesday but some of our Tuesday sessions have been moved to Mondays to accommodate the owners dressage competitions.

I even get an 8pm session so I’m not home too late. 

(Monday 25^th April)

The Unspeakable

L is now asking me for the unspeakable for Christmas. A book. I shall play as hard to get as possible.

She says I didn't play that hard to get when she was asking for boots. I remind her that Santa has not yet delivered those boots. Very presumptuous of her.

Dogging survives a 6pm pitch inspection but clearly only just, as we slip and slide around the course until it becomes so dangerous everyone just stops fuddles instead. Is that the correct word? People have brought chocolates. Well everyone has brought chocolates except me. Yet everyone who has brought chocolates are on diets. So why do they do it or is it just to fatten me up. 

(Monday 16^th December)

Toughing It Out

L has no heating at work and hasn’t had for some time, they're into their third week now. I suggest she goes home and works from there. Where she’d have to have the back door open and a certain dog continually dropping his ball at her feet. Perhaps she’s better off toughing it out where she is.

We’ve had plenty of rain recently and Dogging fails a late pitch inspection. So that’s me signed up for ball throwing duty tonight then.

(Monday 11^th November)

A Touch Of Something

I think I must have a touch of something. A slight temperature and a bit of a headache. It’ll pass.

Apparently St Jude isn’t coming now. The storm has veered off towards Scandinavia instead. It’s a bit of a shame really; I do like a good storm.

I still can’t see dogging being on though, it’s very wet out and they’ve called a pitch inspection at 5pm. This is then delayed until 6pm. The tension mounts... not that the delay is because anything is likely to change in an hour. It’s just that no one’s been up there to have a look yet.

L is on tenter hooks, she wants to paint and doesn’t want the dogs stuck to it. So if I don’t take them dogging we’ll probably all have to sit in the garden whilst it dries. We won’t even get to watch it dry...

In the end dogging is on after a split vote, although we train ‘contacts’ rather than running around doing a full course where somebody, mostly likely me, would have ended up on their backside.

MD is his usual frustrating wayward self. I might swap him for an eagle. I think the chap at Warwick Castle yesterday had less problems. 

(Monday 28^th October)