More Brutality At The Velodrome

L runs with MD while the two less dynamic old men in the family (Doggo and I) take a gentle amble down the paper shop.

I’m actually keeping my powder dry for tonight’s SQT session at Derby Velodrome. It is only my second Sunday night session with the big boys (and girls). Quite noticeably I am the only one without my own bike. I might as well have ‘novice’ stamped in big letters on my forehead. My father again turns up to watch the carnage unfold.

The 'warm up' is once again impressively brutal, I am proud to say I hung in there while others fell by the wayside. The survivors come off the track to find several bodies collapsed in chairs and one girl flat out on the floor hyperventilating muttering ‘I’m warm, I’m warm’. So that's the warm up sorted, now to get slaughtered in the Keirin.

L, clearly not prepared to be outdone, gets her road bike out and bikes over to meet us. I’m impressed. She’s not so impressed when her lights die with quite a few miles still to go. I tell her to cycle on the pavement with no lights like everyone else does.

Afterwards, a few recovery pints are required and we head to the Horse and Jockey and then to the Park Tandoori for a Takeaway Curry.

(Sunday 24^th January)

Taking My Training Very Seriously

Nottingham City Council are apparently the only remaining council who remove bulky waste items for free, such as our deceased washer which we put out for them today. This is obviously a nice service to have available to us but, when they’re in the process of axing practically everything else to save money, is it a wise one?

They even come as arranged, which doesn’t always happen.

Pub lunch today, so I’m well fortified for my run attempt this evening, as well as half slaughtered. I even skip the chips and have mash instead. I take my training very seriously you know.

I jog-walk the mile to Chaddesden to see how it goes. Not bad but ‘good’ would be a gross exaggeration. I take the bus to Stapleford and attempt the four or so miles home from there. Again not bad but I ease up every time I suspect things are going to go pear-shaped, which is frequently. Whether this is due to real concerns or simply paranoia I’m not sure.

I run across the park and catch up with L who is walking home, which means I can sneakily walk the rest of the way.

As I’m out with work tomorrow, we decide Thursday is the new Friday and celebrate it a day early, complete with wine. Rather than TOTP on TV it’s a mix of Triathlons, Ironman and the Adidas Terrex Coast to Coast challenge all bizarrely featured on the 4Music channel. I rather fancy the Coast to Coast challenge, I wonder how good L’s kayaking is?

(Thursday 29th March)

We Have Faith

There was an amusing article on the radio this morning about youth unemployment and the radio station had booked a couple of unemployed lads to come on the radio to talk about their experiences. However... neither turned up and without a word as to why. This prompted a flood of emails, texts and phone calls to the radio show, pointing out exactly why these lads were unemployed...

Pub lunch today. Chicken, Ham and Mushroom pie and a pint, to fortify myself for squash of course but also, perhaps more importantly, for parents evening. Which is our last one at the college, unless of course Daughter loves it so much that she goes back to re-sit the year... but she won’t. We have faith, and we'd kill her.

We attempt to bring some of the appointments forward, so that I can make it back in plenty of time for squash but perhaps also in an attempt to outmanoeuvre Daughter and talk to a few of the teachers 'off the record'. It doesn’t work. As we go into the first appointment I’m sure I can hear her sprinting up the stairs. Yep. Here she is.

It all goes pretty much as expected, which is very well. Although still nobody can extract a university decision out of her. She says buy her a bottle of vodka and she’ll push a few buttons when she’s drunk. Hmmm, if I thought this wasn’t just a ruse to get free vodka I’d have gone for that.

It wasn’t worth rushing back for squash. I get slaughtered and I'm not referring to the pub afterwards.

(Thursday 14th April)

Good Old Post Office

Just as I’m getting ready to leave for work this morning, someone pushes MD back through the front door and closes it again. Ah. He didn’t last long on his walk. L did say she wasn’t going to put up with his misbehaving any more.

It starts snowing but it’s not that wonderful, unpleasant wet snow.

At lunch time it takes me ages in the hairdressers because the chap asked if it was me he saw at the View concert before Christmas. Having discovered a common love of live music we embark on a long discussion about all the gigs we’ve both been too. Don't you just hate people who takes ages to get their hair cut.

I see Starbucks has dropped the charade that it actually makes coffee and has removed the word from its new logo.



About time. We wondered what it was they were serving in those cups.

Mouse watch: L tells me how much she loves mice and hopes we're feeding them something decent... Of course, cheese, on traps.



Over to Bingham tonight for our bi-annually mini Uni reunion. One of the lads hasn’t had a drink since August, so he’s going to be slaughtered. It will probably cause him to give up again for another long stretch. Another of the guys was going to criticise me for not sending him a birthday card but it arrived rather tardily this morning, his birthday was 29th December. It was postmarked 22nd December. 16 days for a first class delivery. Impressive. Good old post office.

(Friday 7th January)