Pass The Zimmer

L is on penicillin for a chest infection, hoping this will allow her to be able to breathe again soon. She does manage the free Clumber 10k today as do I, as organised by the National Trust, but she didn’t win. So the drugs can’t be that good.

Having chewed his way through most things, the Lad turns his attention to the stair gate and eats his way through that enabling access to upstairs. We resort to placing his cage in front of it, while threatening to put him back inside in it like we did when he first arrived.

Monday is Daughter's birthday and she's in Ibiza, courtesy of a work trip. She seems nervous about the whole trip and I advise L to tell her to have a drink to calm her nerves but apparently she’s already had three. Two cocktails for breakfast and a drink in the airport. Well, it is her birthday.

I cycle on Monday as Tuesday is race 1 of the Nottingham Grand Prix at my most un-favourite place, Rushcliffe Country Park. It sees me coming. I hate running on the grit at Rushcliffe and continually ask myself ‘why am I doing this?’. I run on the grass verge to avoid the grit, clip a hole (I think), slip and twist my ankle. I hobble for a bit but then abort the race as my ankle is quickly growing a huge appendage on one side.

I ask the St John’s Ambulance people for an ice pack but instead they grab hold of me, haul me into the ambulance and bandage me up. I am then embarrassingly wheeled in a wheelchair to the car park and sent to A&E. Not that I go. It’s only a sprain after all, I think.

The next day my foot is a nice shade of purple but the drive to work is fine and I’m managing stairs ok too. The more I hobble on it the better it gets. I even go to dog training but don’t manage to do any running around.

By Thursday it’s a nice shade of black and I can walk to Greggs for my lunch. Ta da. I took the car yesterday. I could be running by the weekend... all the same I’ve decided not to do race 2 of the series tonight at Holme Pierrepoint. The dogs and I support L instead.

After England defeated Panama on Sunday they qualified for the last 16 of the World Cup, so tonight’s game doesn’t really matter too much and both sides field reserve sides. I record it as we're at the run and watch it later. England lose 1-0.

The Lad has a busy week. On Wednesday he legs it to the park on his own and then on Thursday he breaks into the back bedroom and severs the phone line bringing down our internet. I have to re-cable the internet in the front bedroom. Meanwhile more Haltis arrive, we now have a stock of them to replace them as the Lad chews through them.

Son announces he engagement, now that was a shock.

By Friday, three of my toes have also gone black but I’m back on the bike. Well, it’s easier than walking.

Also on Friday, it’s Public Image Limited. Yes, Mr Lydon. He’s still going, albeit probably on a zimmer frame. So that'll be two of us.

(Friday 29^th June) 

Good Zimmering

Doggo is getting wobblier and we’ve both started guiding him the stairs by his collar so that he doesn’t face plant the front door. Sadly he’s starting to look an old man, as bad as me really.

L hits the gym and declares herself ‘almost’ pain free. Which means I will have to restrain her tonight so that she doesn’t head off out to knock off 10k.

My Mum is still in hospital and I go over after work to visit. She is looking good and zimmering well on her new knee but they won’t let her out just yet. Afterwards I head home to pick up the boys and to take him with the dodgy paw to training. Although he’s been chasing after his ball just fine. I guess I’ll see how he goes at training.

L has already headed over to see her folks on the bus. So no pub again, they'll be going bust.

She is terrified about what lies ahead because her Dad has asked him to help download a GPS App. That’s probably outside all our comfort zones but if she pulls it off she could be coming home with several bottles of wine.

 

(Wednesday 8^th November)

Pyrotechnics

I’m on the bike again today, as it results in less coughing than running.

L regales me of a tale of a poor young girl she passed this morning who was being made to run up the evil steps near L’s work, do six star jumps, then run down the steps and lift weights at the bottom. Whilst her personal trainer stood nearby drinking a Costa Coffee. This reminds me, I really must get on with becoming a personal trainer. It sounds such fun, especially if young girls are prepared to pay handsomely to be tortured. It must pay handsomely, if he can afford Costa.

L isn’t initially keen on tonight’s gig, which she’s going to with her brother. Unfortunately I’m washing my hair, so I can’t take her place. Rammstein don't even sing in English but apparently they do go all out with their stage show.

L, as it happens, has a whale of a time despite the singed eyebrows. There are a lot of pyrotechnics including guitars, keyboards, microphones and possibly Zimmer frames on fire. The keyboard player used a Zimmer frame mounted keyboard at one point, that was when he wasn't on his treadmill or in a saucepan. This review is secondhand by the way, but I think it's generally accurate.

I may have quite liked the crowd surfing in a rubber dingy bit, that sounded quite cool but I’m not quite so sure about some of the other stunts. Such as the lead singer putting on a dress and walking his band mates around on lead nor the gay sex scene but I guess it would all have made a good blog.

I stay in, dog sit and have my own pyrotechnics as L insists I build a funeral pyre for some rather threadbare handkerchiefs that have been called up as reinforcements following my recent bout of whatever it was. It’s sad, some do have sentimental value, but I do concede that a few perhaps need retiring. I organise a short ceremony.

(Friday 2nd March)