Perfect Sense

It's very foggy and damp this morning, though I don’t think it was actually raining but my jacket was soaked with Notts/Derby mist when I finally reached work through the gloom on the bike. After which I eat breakfast at my desk.

L confesses that she had breakfast at home today. She can’t do that. That’s just plain weird.

There was this bit of a nonsense story on the BBC website the other day.

The woman objects to folk like me having breakfast at work, as she sits reading the papers... and it appears he'd even got in early to eat it before official work start time.

It makes no sense to eat cereal at work... unless you’re one of the growing band of people who run, walk or cycle to work or go to the gym or swim before work, then it makes perfect sense.

L has a cunning plan of a romantic meal of chicken chow mein tonight, followed by perhaps liquid dessert in the Plough. Sounds good to me. It also appears to be a strategy to keep her off the Leffe in readiness for tomorrow's plan, which is a blow out in Burton... Hmmm. Last time we went to Burton we end up being practically AF because the beer was too strong.

Apparently I am allowed a whippet for Christmas. I’d be allowed to train with it and it would even be allowed to sleep on our bed. L says she would get a little jacket to keep it warm and a sparkly lead.

Wasn’t quite what I had in mind but I’ll let her know.

(Friday 19th November)