After the run last night and cycling to and from work today, I’m probably not in the best shape for squash. Not that I’m sure what the best shape would be. My opponent's stated aim is to win 100 games in a calendar year, my aim is to stop him. He also has the added dilemma that he fancies a game or two of tennis whilst the weather is good; although this will slow his inexorable drive for 100 blood stained notches on his squash racquet.
After another defeat tonight, even I’m beginning to agree that it may be beginning to look like tennis weather... So we agree a game for our next match up, in two weeks time. Stay indoors that night, it’s going to rain.
The wasps' home now appears to be vacant and derelict. So I get chance to inspect it from up close. It is quite a work of perfection. L says she is full of admiration for the horrible little cretins.
She’s been taking precautions in case they come back and overdosing on toast and Marmite. Apparently you don't get bitten or stung by insects if you eat the stuff. Not that she needs an excuse to hit the Marmite.
Somebody seems to have ‘borrowed’ a tub of Chamois Cream, as I found it open in the bathroom. Must have been Daughter. I hope she hasn’t mistaken something that is meant for your crotch for face cream.
(Thursday 29th July)