Anniversary Treat

It's our 21st today and we don’t look a day over 20. As a special treat, I get to walk the dogs while L goes for an early morning swim.

She keeps saying she wants to speed up her swim and is looking at those gadgets which set a pace for you by ‘beeping’ in your ear. I think she had one before but we can’t remember whether it got lost because it was so small or whether she sent it back judging it to be a waste of money.

In the end, she opts to buy a new sports bra instead which is a much better use of funds as we both benefit from such sexy attire and anyway, I can always swim alongside her and beep in her ear.

L’s boss keeps telling her how lovely Llandudno is, which is of course where I have my ‘free’ triathlon. He says it's a traditional old seaside town, which is a shame, as I was hoping to discover it was actually inland and therefore I wouldn’t have to face a sea swim.

(Friday 3^rd March)

Young Enough To Stare

Back on the second-best bike today which is perhaps a bit of a risk as it's Friday the 13th but there are no punctures today. I do tussle with a lass on an electric bike, who assures me her 'other bike' is a proper one as we chat going up Risley Hill, me out of breath, her being chauffeur driven.

Meanwhile my first-best girl is unashamedly eyeing up some 'sexy' Spaniard at the pool. He was apparently doing stretches on the side of the pool but L had to swim very slowly past doing breaststroke to notice that. She says she’s old enough to be his mother but young enough to stare, which is the sort of thing I’d come out with. Wait until I get her home.

Lunch comes courtesy of a very small, very expensive sandwich from Starbucks as my usual venue of choice (through lack of choice)  for crap sandwiches, Greggs, is shut for a refit. Quite what they can do differently there I don’t really know.

I attempt to do a few beat boxes on my way home from work but I’m not confident it won't end in disaster. I don’t puncture this time and I cycle an extra 10km, visiting 12 beat boxes of which 8 acknowledge my presence. The rest are all flat. I meet a fellow cyclist who is doing what I had hoped to do by visiting every one but he’s now resorted to marking them off with pen and paper such is the number of ones that no longer work.

When I get home I find that just 2 of the 12 have registered on the website scoring me a massive ten points rather than the expected 110. L has had a similarly frustrating quest. We both Facebook the box people to complain, well not really complain, just to let them know about the problems there are. It’s a great idea and hopefully if it comes back next year they’ll have ironed all these problems out.

L has her ball. The Poundshop had a choice of either Superman or Pink Princess. Naturally she went pink, not that that will make much difference to its chances of ending up in the garden.

(Friday 13^th May)

Next Stop Paris

Today we get the Eurostar over to Paris. It proves to be a quick and relaxed service, once you get on the train. Checking in was total chaos, just like catching a flight... Serves us right for picking a Saturday I suppose.

Once in Paris we head straight to registration for the half marathon at Château de Vincennes where we need to collect our race numbers but first we have to have our medical certificates approved. So we join our second big queue of the day. This one is even longer and slower than the Eurostar one but eventually we are in.

They also hand out the race t-shirts although L gets a sexy girlie vest while I get the bog standard issue t-shirt. Not that a sexy girlie vest would suite me.

Then it’s time to find the hotel. This time the Holiday Inn has upgraded me and I have been given a bachelor pad (or suite as they call it). Which is nice, I suppose. It’s probably bigger than Daughter’s new flat is. Not that we’re really going to use any of it, as we’re only really interested in the bedroom.

We head out for a wholesome pasta meal but spoil the healthy façade with a couple of Pelforth Blondes. That’s as in beer, not a couple of local women to invite back to the suite.

Rather than hit the wine in the hotel bar, this time we’re on the coffee. For once the hotel room TV gets some use as the French are at least covering the cycling so we can keep in touch with what is happening back at the track championships.

(Saturday 5^th March)

Annual Sportswear Exchange

It’s Christmas Day so L and I exchange sports gear as is the custom. Running shoes and cycling shorts for him, cycling trousers and swimming goggles for her. I suppose the incredibly sexy ankle boots that I also got her were a bit of a departure as that relates to a physical sport of a different nature.

The customary Christmas Lunchtime pint takes place, as last year, in the Horse and Jockey at Stapleford, which is packed. Sadly also overrun with Christmas jumpers.

Then it’s back home for tapas and roast lamb with Daughter and the boys. Some folk are having Zebra apparently, so by comparison we are almost traditional.

(Friday 25^th December)