I cycle in. A fellow cyclist pulls up alongside me at the Balloon Wood crossroads in his shorts, brrrrrrrr, and L thinks I don’t feel the cold. I have plenty of layers on this morning. We have a brief chat but then once the lights go green, he clears off and leaves me for dust.
‘Didn't he drag you along?’ L asks, ‘isn’t that how it works with cyclists?’
Hmmm, well yes it does, if you can get close enough in the first place to get dragged along... I couldn’t get near him.
L’s almost complimentary about Mr Yap (MD) this morning. She says he was ‘quite well behaved’ and even forgot to bark at the dog with no knees. A dog with no knees? I know how he feels; I had no knees until about Wednesday after that run last weekend.
Daughter has gone blonde. L asks me to be polite. I’m always polite, just not sure Daughter likes it when I’m polite. I think it makes her suspicious.
L goes to the gym after work and we rendezvous at the Plough, where it’s the start of Nottingham’s Stout and Porter trail which means that for the next month or so, many pubs will be stocking the dark stuff. Heaven or it would be, if I’d not got tons of races coming up this month which will force far too many AF nights.