Not Really My Forte

This is L.

I may need to book myself into a different resort for the weekend?

Daughter gets her first pay cheque from her new job and asks me to do her a budget. So I adapt my own ‘financials’ spreadsheet. All I need to do then is to follow orders and make it funky. There is colour in it but clearly not enough, she says it needs the odd picture of a cat or something. Not really my forte.

We thought we’d lost Doggo’s brother this morning who has seemingly been struggling with his back legs more than Doggo has but he seemed to rally as soon as he got within sniffing distance of the vets. Good for him.

We have our second dogging session of the week today, this is because it’s our favourite trainer again. L doesn’t come this time but she has promised Doggo a nice chicken breast when he gets home. No wonder that dog is giving up dog food.

(Wednesday 22^nd March)

Something Wild And Exciting

My legs are feeling their age this morning, I’m sure they’re older than the rest of me, so I get the bus and save them for tonight’s squash.

L’s Christmas List arrives, well the first draft does also known as the expensive draft. I notice despite precise instructions she still tries to hide a book in the middle of it.

I send her my list and also ask her to promise not to spend too much money but she just refers me to the ‘money profile’ on her spreadsheet. Which she says is a bit like the gradient profile on Sportive and cycle race routes. It's mainly flat but every so often there's a hill that you look at and think ‘oh bloody hell’. Hmmm. 

‘Let's do something wild and exciting tonight’ she says.   

That sounds thrilling. Like Squash? Our usual Thursday night, perhaps exciting may have to wait. 

I needn’t have bothered saving my legs for tonight game. If my opponent is going to start playing that well every week there’s no point me turning up.

(Thursday 3^rd December)

Spreadsheet Wars

Three days in a row on the bike. Which means I’ve outlasted protégé, he’s cycled twice this week but wimped out today. These youngsters have no stamina. Us old gits rule.

“I'm going to destroy my spreadsheet. It's ruining my life.” So says L. Oh dear.

She says she’s so busy with work and trying to read books that she’s not getting to the gym. Work isn’t on her spreadsheet though, so in theory she shouldn’t be doing it...

I have my swimming stuff with me and consider a brief swim. If only I knew what a ‘Fitness Swim’ was, as that’s the session the leisure centre are advertising. L’s depressive, spreadsheet hating comment “What's a swim?” isn’t helpful.

It also says ‘half the pool only’. Perhaps they’ve sublet the other half?

Turns out they have, to a swim class of six people, which means everyone else is packed into three lanes. Not pleasant. Alienating far more than the six people the class has attracted.

I manage twenty two lengths until a chap gets in front of me and won’t let me pass. After six more painfully slow lengths I get out in frustration. Twenty eight lengths in total. L would have burnt her spreadsheet at such an unrounded number. That is if she still had a spreadsheet to burn.

(Thursday 22nd March)

The Wrong Socks

L bemoans her 2.3 mile run this morning. Well it’s better than not doing a 2.3 mile run and it’s another tick on the spreadsheet. All hail the spreadsheet. I intend to do mine after work, although I think it might be a short run due to the foul weather.

In the end I run another ten miles, the second time this week, because amazingly it stays dry. Although I did the whole thing with the wrong socks on, having packed my ‘short distance’ socks rather than my ‘long distance’ ones. The blisters will be hell. Still, it’s another ten miles for the spreadsheet. Tick.

Then it’s ‘Dragon Tattoo’ night as we watch episode two of the TV series and hence complete book one. So far it's much better than both films. The rest will be interesting. Books two and three had so much cut out of them, they made little sense at all.

(Friday 20th January)

A Very Small Tea Cup

I leave the house this morning noticing that the spare key is still in the front door and L’s keys are on the worktop. L meanwhile is out with dogs. I leave the front door unlocked correctly calculating that someone has forgotten their keys.

The traffic is horrendous again as I drive to work.

The dog club call an emergency meeting about what to me is a very small storm in a very small tea cup but some people like to decant these things into a bigger cup and stir furiously in the hope of getting a good crisis going. I refuse to attend. I have an appointment with a couple of spreadsheets and a curry tonight.

The spreadsheet appointment is with my mate to get a few ticks in his ‘squash games’ column. I suggest we ought to do what those guys in Thame did... 200 games. I bet their spreadsheet is looking healthy.

We manage four and I don’t win any of them.

After one in the Globe with him, I meet L, who has walked up with the dogs, at the now refurbished White Hart. The Thursday curry has gone down from £5.00 to £4.49 and they’ve added a free pint and poppadoms but taken away the naan bread. The free pint is Greene King IPA but they agree to pour me something more decent for an extra 50p, taking it back up to a fiver plus a £1 extra for the naan.

It wasn’t as good as it was before but it was ok and much better than the Wetherspoons one we had at Christmas.

Tonight’s ‘emergency’ meeting was cancelled. Must have ran out of cups.

(Thursday 19th January)

New Year Spreadsheets

L sends me her New Year spreadsheet, everyone’s got a spreadsheet for the New Year or so it seems. Squash opponent sent me his the other day.

His involves targets for badminton games, squash games, km on the treadmill, km walking, holes of golf, AF nights and meat free meals. An interesting combo.

L’s on the other hand consists of miles ran, hours in the gym, lengths swam, miles cycled, alcohol units, films watched, books read, rows knitted, hoovering... and there’s talk of a decorating column being added... fascinating.

What shall I put in mine? Or shall I just combine the three I’ve already got. Yes, I'm afraid I already have a bit of a spreadsheet thing going on.

L spots the No Pants Subway Ride. Which is an annual event on subways worldwide including London.

Check out Going Underground, the London Underground blog.

I wonder if the commuters on the Nottingham Tram took part?

While L heads to the gym and book club, to de-stress after a day when she threatened to put her boss in a straightjacket, I run home, vowing to have something simmering for her by the time she gets home.

14.7km. I got carried away again but a good run nonetheless. I jump on the bus and then hobble the rest of the way home. Somehow I need to be able to kick the dogs around the garden when I get home.

(Tuesday 10th January)