Laryngitis

Here's a thing. Just to prove that my young dog is now growing up and getting more mature, I can report that MD passed three dogs on his walk this morning and didn't bark at any of them. L thinks he has laryngitis.

Here's another thing. When L got home and unlocked the back door to let the dogs out, she found a teenager stood the other side of it carrying a bag of sausages and bacon. It's actually not as strange as it sounds. We're used to such occurrences. Son had a bit of a mini 'bash', confined to his room, last night but it appears one of his guests had headed out early to find breakfast and we had inadvertently locked him out. Needless to say, all this helped MD made an immediate recovery from his laryngitis.

I ride in to work, dodging the downpours. I even enjoyed being on my old faithful. The weather was far too unpredictable to get my posh bike out. It's still licking it's wounds after getting very damp up in Windermere. It might not be getting another trip out to work any time soon as according to tradition, if it rains on St Swithin's Day (that’s today) then it will rain for forty days, which is basically until the end of August. Isn’t that the period that we call summer.

That said, I reckon it’s gone quite warm again, not that L would agree with me. It even looks like it might stay dry for my ride home.... Ah. 4pm and it’s torrential. Good old St Swithin's Day.. but then it stops and I actually get home in the dry.

And so to squash. I win a game and then celebrate in the pub. Then it rains AGAIN before I can do any training with MD in the garden.

(Wednesday 14th July)

Horrible Premonitions

There’s another outing to work for the posh bike today, ahead of Sunday’s Flat Out in The Fens Sportive. It’s going to be a hot 70 odd miles on Sunday apparently. It’s pretty hot this morning as well.

As I’m still on for a £50 bribe from the council for using their gym every month for a year, I thought I best show willing and drop in to do my June session. As it’s now the 25th of the month, I’m running out of time.

So I pedal to John Carroll and book in for a short session. Not that I particularly want to. I do a massive 1km run on the treadmill, two small weight sessions and then sit on the bike for a while. The exercise bikes are so awful that again a km is all I can bare. I think cycling further on those uncomfortable contraptions would actually do you more harm that good.

So having passed a bit of time on the bike, I get off and go for a coffee. So, not exactly a tough session but I've had a hard week.

Today is Daughter's 17th birthday and we have bowed to concerted pressure... yep, we've let her have a small party. This is despite the horrible premonitions I’ve been having for weeks, well at least since 'that' incident... but she assures us it’s not going to be like one of Son’s bashes, which have got progressively more out of control with each one. That’s a relief. Of course if it was jelly and ice cream, pass the parcel and a Disney film like the old days it would be fine but it’s not going to be is it. Perhaps I should have faith in her or at least get drunk. Mind you that didn't work with Son's parties. With the blue touchpaper lit and the sick bucket in place, we retire to a safe distance and take the dogs down the local.

When we get home later all seems orderly, unbroken and well civilised. Perhaps Daughter has been ruling them with a rod of iron like she does us.