Short Skirt Weather

We are off for a short break in the Lakes this evening. L has the whole day off and uses the time to get a haircut, which is always a sad occasion, before finishing packing the car which I had started earlier.

Then after checking whether I have any last requests on the packing front, I do but apparently it’s not short skirt weather, she heads off to pick me up from work. She may not have packed for the eventuality of  short skirt weather but I think she’s covered every other possible eventuality as the car is practically listing to one side. I joke, of course. It's just the book pile.

We are staying in a cottage in Chapel Stile for the first time in quite a while. Yes, we not camping.Quite a few people are struggling to get their heads round this such is our reputation.

We get there in enough time to have a few beers in the Wainwrights Inn and I finally get to add Jennings' Sneck Lifter to my list.

(Friday 13^th January)

Injury Risk: Code Amber

I’m in the car again today as there’s a football match tonight. I had considered running in to work from my parents' place, as I often do when there’s a game, but I decide the injury risk is too high. I take the car to work instead which means we have time to continue our family walks.

I’m still a bit late leaving for work but I manage to get one of the hotly contested parking spaces because a lot of the company are at an exhibition at the NEC. We have a stand at a trade show but I don’t qualify to go, not that I’d really want to, because I don’t fit the necessary criteria to help out. You either need to work in our Sales department or look good in a short skirt.

Derby dominate another game and lose again as Ipswich convert possibly their own chance on goal while Derby miss all theirs. The natives are now getting restless but then again the natives were restless when we were top of the league last season and they’ll just have to patient as apparently FIFA have totally scrapped the loan system so we can’t sign a striker until January. We drown our sorrows in the Harrington.

(Tuesday 13^th September)

And I Think I've Got Problems

And I think I've got injury problems... Apparently, reigning National Cyclo-Cross champion Paul Oldham crashed last weekend at an event in Macclesfield. He landed heavily on his elbow, forcing his shoulder to dislocate but no matter, he ‘managed to roll around and get it back in’. Then he continued for a while before deciding to pull out and save himself for another important event the following weekend. That’s hardcore.

Apparently he’s used to it, ‘usually comes out in my sleep’ he says. Nice.

Which all makes my cycle in to work seem a bit tame by comparison, Sandiacre on tarmac isn't quite Macclesfield in the mud. Which is just fine, that's the way I like it. Although the rain does liven things up a touch on the way home.

L heads off to her book club in a short skirt, which apparently causes a bit of a stir. L has had two pairs of jeans meet a grisly death recently. One at the hands/paws of Doggo, the other courtesy of some wet weather induced disintegration. All of which means she having to do a lot of wearing of dresses and skirts recently. Which is a travesty obviously...

(Tuesday 8th January)

A Ploy? Me? Never.

The BBC are in trouble after Jeremy Clarkson said he would like to see striking public sector workers taken outside and shot in front of their families. Bless him. Of course the media reported his little joke totally out of context but that’s what the media’s for I believe. What was even funnier was that the humourless Unison union clearly only saw the media’s version before going off on one. Which, at a stroke, not only made them look a bit stupid for not getting the joke but also meant they missed a golden opportunity to fire back a similar comment demanding an even worse fate for Clarkson, which not only would have been incredibly popular with the public but would have done more for their credibility than their strikes have.

Due to the ‘pay in advance, no refunds’ policy the council is now employing to squash bookings I have ended up with two bookings tonight at two different centres. I ring up and manage to persuade them to roll one over to next week. So everything is sorted, that is, until opponent cancels on me.

They’re more bolshie when I ring to move the second one and at first they won’t let me because I haven’t given the required 24 hours notice. So instead I try to talk L into a game. She's immediately wary and isn’t sure whether to be flattered or suspicious. She thinks it’s all a ploy to get her into a short skirt. A ploy? Me? Never.

As she’s clearly not that keen, I again try to reschedule and getting a different person this time, I succeed. Damn, it would have been nice to have seen the short skirt get an airing. Plus I’ve now again got two courts booked for next week.

All is not lost, far from it. We have an excellent night in instead, just the two of us, the two damp muddy dogs with their damp muddy footballs and L’s slow cooking corned beef hash in the oven. She knows all the top seduction techniques.

(Thursday 1st December)