Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Anything For Me?

Wednesday dog training restarts and goes well. I even get a session in with both dogs. Then I take the boys round to see my Mum, whose birthday it is. I’m sure she’s pleased to see me too but sometimes it’s hard to tell, as she greets the dogs and swiftly apologises them for not having any ginger biscuits. They have to make do with digestives. Oh the hardship. They’re not even that distraught about having the broken bits at the bottom of the tin. Soon the tin is empty. Anything for me? Thought not.

L runs 11 miles tonight, combining last night’s swim training with run training in preparation for next week’s Nottingham Half. She always seems to manage to schedule two completely contrasting events on consecutive weekends. Still variety being the spice of life and all that.

(Wednesday 1st September)

Monday, August 30, 2010

I Did The Right Thing

I do my usual four mile run, ending up at work. I thought it was going quite well until protégé drew up alongside me on his mountain bike and told me I was only doing eight minute miles. Hmmm. Perhaps I shouldn’t have deleted the email offering me Ellie Goulding’s selection of tracks to run to. Then again, no, I did the right thing.

I read on the internet the other day a review of the inaugural Two Inns race from Creggan Inn to Clachaig Inn, Glencoe. Only thirty seven runners took part. The race covers 24km and 1770m of ascent taking in the Corbett Fraochaidh before heading for Sgorr a' Choise. I assume they are a couple of evil looking mountains.

And you know what, there wasn’t a free pint at the end. Was there a T-shirt? Don’t think so. Not even a mug. We've noticed that the tougher the race, the lesser the pressie. The people who do these races are probably so tough that they would spit at a t-shirt. I think that the form it that you just compare injuries in the pub afterwards or sit and tell mountain rescue about it all when they have to come and find you.

L is swim training for this weekend’s Windermere swim and takes Son with her again. So it wasn’t just a one off. If he’s not careful he’ll end up getting fit.

Squash, is a bit of a cliff-hanger and I don’t often say that. Leading 2-1 I eventually lose 3-2. I feel a bit like Derby County... throwing away a lead like that. Overall though a pleasing performance. Hmmm, I sound like Derby’s manager now.

My opponent blames it on being a bit tired from golf yesterday... I’m sure his weekend wasn’t as busy as mine.

(Tuesday 31st August)

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Retirement On Hold

Daughter returned last night from the Leeds Festival. It sounds like it went well apart from the cracking blisters she’s got from spending the weekend in wellies. That paper round could be quite an interesting hobble this morning. We expect Son to turn up sometime today, maybe. Guns n Roses, of course, rounded the whole thing off in their own diminutive style. Late. Though only by thirty minutes of so, which is modest by their standards. Of course they ran well over again but clearly they’re going soft. Both Son and Daughter seem to cite their festival highlight as Pendulum... hmmmm.

I’m back at Scunny for another day at the agility show up there. The first two runs bring two eliminations for Doggo. Mostly my fault really. On the first one, I sent him over start jump rather than finish jump. Oops. Which was a bit silly of me but not as unlikely as it sounds. The second run though, we stormed round. We was quick! Mainly because a German Shepherd went round the course before him... and that wound him up. He has a thing about German Shepherds. Perhaps we were too fast, because we got one jump wrong and that was us out. I’m a bit annoyed with myself but for now the retirement’s on hold. He does get a good solid clear later on but unfortunately there isn’t a German Shepherd in front of us this time and it isn’t so fast.

Meanwhile I'm thrilled with MD, who bags a couple of clears with accompanying rosettes for 15th and 16th. Excellent and I know we can go a lot quicker.

L tells me she’s cooking lamb chops in red wine tonight because that’s what Mikael Blomkvist (of 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo') always cooks for his current shag... I wonder if she’s expecting company or just me.

(Monday 30th August)

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Amateur Talent Night

L says that some fool has entered us into a 10 mile race, as I recall it wasn't me. This morning we're at the Chesterfield Spire 10 mile race.

It's a very well supported event despite the exceedingly changeable weather. The course was all on road and basically a four mile climb up some fairly steep hills followed by a six mile plummet back to the finish. The first stretch was a bit of a slog to be honest, not helped by the sudden downpour that seemed to last for most of the uphill section. I was in a good position after that stretch but then quickly started to go backwards through the field. I have nil descending skills. People were skipping past me with ease on the downhill sections and I was doing sub-seven minute miles which I thought was impressive but obviously not.

73 minutes it took me in the end, which is a bit tardy when you consider that the winner, Andy Greenleaf of Winchester & District Athletics Club finished in 53:11. Show off.

The post race was good though, they had a bar at the finish line, then we had coffee in the car, then a hot bath and quality time with L at home as the kids were still festivaling, followed by a trip out for Sunday lunch. This included the second excellent beer of the weekend, Brunswick Brewery’s Father Mikes 5.8%er. Very nice. I drink in its ‘home’, The Brunswick and have always avoided this due to its strength. Not sure I can continue to be a stranger.

Then what’s the thing to do on a night at the fag end of August when the weather is already turning Autumnal and if you take this morning into consideration, downright ugly. Go to the open air theatre of course. Well it seemed a good idea at the time we booked tickets.

It’s Shakespeare of a sort; a play called ‘Love In Shakespeare’. I say ‘of sort’ because the setting for the play was an amateur talent night at The Shakespeare Arms pub. A chap called Chris tells us his own love story with the help of a touch of magic and a selection of Shakespeare’s most romantic bits which are woven into the acts on talent night. Its decent Sunday night entertainment and the Shakespearean bits are very good but often come as blessed relief from some dodgy pub jokes, marital bickering and a chap failing to contain a dodgy Chinese meal.

The cast are excellent, particularly when in Shakespeare mode for which you really needed the programme to keep on top of. An old couple’s act morphs into the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. A stand up act converts to Helena’s pursuit of Demetrius from the Midsummer Night’s Dream. Whilst a performance of Marvin Gaye’s ‘You heard it through the grapevine’ in mime, yes you heard right, in mime, was turned into a scene from Othello. Then there's the Salvation Army doing a segment from The Winter’s Tale and Henry V’s courting of Princess Katherine of France but I can't remember how we got to that.

There are even songs from Dr Hook and the Beatles, ‘All You Need Is Love’ naturally. Then just when you’re expecting Chris to run off with the apparently more than willing landlady Kerry, something completely different happens. Well I suppose Shakespeare would have approved of that.

It’s a fun and enjoyable evening but all a bit bizarre. Unfortunately the standard of writing of the new material doesn't quite live up to the old stuff, obviously, but I commend the writer on a brave idea, that perhaps didn't quite come off. Instead it perhaps just shows up how crap and unromantic we all are these days and perhaps that was the point.

(All images by Nicholas Ripley)

(Sunday 29th August)

Friday, August 27, 2010

You Can See Why They'd Rather Be Outside

There may not be anything impressive happening on the pitch at the moment at Derby County but at least they seem capable of constructing something impressive off it. A statue of the Derby’s championship winning partnership from the early 70’s, Brian Clough and Peter Taylor, was erected yesterday. Today was my first chance to see it.

You can see why those two preferred to be placed outside the stadium rather than in. Derby were 2-0 and cruising against the early league leaders, a rather unimpressive (today at least) Queen Park Rangers, with 90 minutes on the clock. Goals for the visitors in the 92nd and 95th minutes ensured a 2-2 draw. Thoroughly depressing.

I could really do with revisiting that excellent beer from last night, Tucks Tipple. Damn, we’re in Broadway and damn, it’s still on but I'm trying to be AF tonight, race tomorrow. A coffee and a juice then please.

We’re in Broadway to see 'The Girl Who Played with Fire', which is the second instalment in the Millennium trilogy and the sequel to 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo', which we saw earlier this year.

One year on from the conclusion of the first story, Mikael Blomkvist is back at work at Millennium magazine when a young journalist and his researcher girlfriend approach the magazine with a meticulously researched exposé of Eastern European sex traffickers which implicates several people in high office.

Meanwhile Lisbeth Salander is drifting around the globe, eventually returning to Sweden with a bang. When the journalist and his girlfriend working on the trafficking story are killed, Salander’s prints are on the gun. Then Lisbeth's hated guardian Nils Bjurman is shot dead as well. It’s not looking good for the dragon girl.

She is accused of murder and Blomkvist embarks on a quest to exonerate her but she’s not totally helpful at clearing her own name. No one can even find Salander, who hides out in her plush new apartment that no one, especially not the authorities know about.

Shadowy characters linked to Salander’s past go to her registered address but Salander has sublet the place to her friend and occasional lover the kickboxing Miriam Wu. They kidnap Wu and leave her in the hands of Ronald Niedermann, a thug with a bizarre medical condition called ‘congenital analgesia’ that means he feels no pain, oh and he’s built like a brick shithouse as well. He beats her up in the quest for information she does not have. It falls to a friend of Salander’s, a real life boxer called Paolo Roberto, played by the man himself, to rescue her in a bare knuckle fist fight with Niedermann.

Now, stop right there and just hang on a minute or two. All this excitement happens pretty quickly in the film, whereas it took weeks of perseverance with the book for me to get this far. I feel cheated already. Lots of background and character development have already been skipped. It’s also like Salander has immediately been presumed innocent, that’s not how it was. Out go the dynamics within the police force, and most of the murder investigation. Even the sex trafficking angle is only touched upon very lightly.

Ok, so it’s always difficult when converting a book to film to decide how much to leave out and what to focus on but I think they got this one wrong. The first film was a genuine whodunit, whereas this time they’ve removed the ‘who’ because it’s clear who ‘dunit’ almost from the start. This causes the film to lack substance and become far less interesting, even the mysterious ‘Zala’ suddenly does not seem that mysterious.

There’s no sustained tension. There can’t be when the film sped along at such a frightening brisk pace. So much so that Salander‘s escape from being buried alive was treated so flippantly it was almost comedic. It’s probably my own fault that I’m un-enthralled by the story because I’ve broken my golden rule of seeing the film of a book I’ve read.

That said, it is faithful to the book, but only as far as it goes and that's a synopsis of the main events from the book. There are so many elements that are hinted at but not explored. Everything else has been jettisoned to cram what’s left into two hours. In fact the film looks like it’s been cut. Why not take another half an hour and flesh it out.

Oddly the first film choose to discard Blomkvist’s relationship with Erika Berger, whereas this second film includes it but with little explanation. A change of director clearly brought a change of approach.

On the plus side, the action is riveting and it still a good film, highly entertaining with Noomi Rapace brilliant again as Salander.

Perhaps I should just read less.

(Saturday 28th August)

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Off The Leash

A day off and a dog show, what else?

MD obviously likes running early, we run number 5 and he has a great run. One slight mistake and we almost missed a jump but it wasn't a refusal as he didn't go beyond the wing of the jump. That's the rule... but the judge faulted us. I'm livid. He's so on my black list now. A spectator who I didn't know even came up to me and said it was clear. Well at least no poles went down. Rant over.

We do get genuine refusals in his other runs, which is a shame cause he's jumping well today, no poles down at all, weaving very well and he's quick. When (if) it all comes together we'll be awesome.

Bodger (aka Doggo) has two nice runs, both clear. Both top 15 placings but not quite good enough for a rosette. I promise to tell L about my embarrassing moment at the hands of Bodger during his third run when I meet her later...

I think perhaps he’s trying to tell me he's ready for retirement. He left the ring for a sniff three jumps from end of course when clear. So embarrassing.

I meet L in Broadway and we eat out. With both kids away we're off the leash this weekend. Not that it usually stops us anyway. Heaven help us when we're off the leash for an extended period when they’re both at uni. L reckons it'll be nothing but sex and nights out... Sounds great! Financially, it would be cheaper to concentrate on one of those options.

The ale is good tonight as well, excellent Milestone Tucks Tipple. Only 4.2% but tasting much stronger.

Guns N Roses Leeds performance on Sunday could be worth seeing, if anyone can stay up that late... after they started their Reading Festival set tonight at 10.30pm, an hour late. Despite them being scheduled to finish at 11pm and an absolute curfew of 11.30, the band still managed to play until nearly midnight. Then as the band tried to return for an encore, the power was cut. As they played 'Paradise City' only the drums could be heard as all other instruments had been switched off. Axl Rose decided to sing the track through a megaphone.

No great surprise, stories of Axl Rose turning up late are the thing of legend. When they last played Reading/Leeds in 2002, they took to the stage at Leeds after they were supposed to have left it. Suppose any publicity is good publicity to them.

(Friday 27th August)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Happy Days

At 4am this morning the kids depart for the Leeds Festival and L displays getting up skills that I didn’t know she had, twice.

We'd both love to be a fly on the wall this weekend, just to see how they get on, rather than for the bands. There are not many that bands we would want to see, well not ones that we haven’t already seen indoors, apart from the Libertines reunion. Would like to have seen that.

I can’t decide how to train today because I have squash tonight. Should I rest, cycle or run? In the end I run, a not so brisk four miles but I still needed a pub lunch to get over it. At least I didn't pick up any new injuries and I didn’t pull anything. Well unless you count that girl who woke me at 4am this morning.

After all the dilemma about what to do this morning, squash is cancelled. Apparently my opponent has a bad wrist. At least it wasn’t the dreaded washing up that did for him this time, it was even less rock ‘n' roll than that. He cites 'over and incorrect use of the mouse'. The mind boggles. I ought to make him play left handed.

Well, I suppose I should take the opportunity to do the gym instead. I need one last monthly session to qualify for my £50 council bribe. As it’s the 26th August already, I best get in with it.

Apparently it's not raining in Bramham Park, yet and there are some nice photos on the BBC website of early arrivals at the festival. L says she quite likes the fishnets and wellies look. Isn’t that the sort of thing I’m supposed to say? Though, can’t say wellies do it for me. Quite like the fishnets though...

L says she daren't be the anxious parent, bombarding them both with texts. So I text Daughter myself, in an unconcerned sort of way.

All this takes me back to the only time I camped on site at a festival, at Reading in, errr ummm, 1987.

Check out that dodgy line-up. Reading in the 80’s never could quite decide just who their target audience was and bands being bottled off was a common occurrence but that was all part of the experience back then. Though Zodiac Mindwarp and his band started throwing them back, not sure they’d get away with that these days. Bad News you may recall were a spoof metal band consisting of three of the Young Ones cast and were joined at Reading by Brian May of Queen.

We went primarily for the Gothness of Friday, though Spear Of Destiny didn’t turn up. Kirk Brandon whinging about a broken leg or something. The rest of the weekend was more heavy rock orientated. In fact we only paid for Friday but got to camp and got into the arena on Saturday unchecked and all for a tenner. Life was so easy then. We came home before Sunday though.

It seems like only yesterday.... My mate and I pitched our tent between two tents belonging to two pairs of attractive young girls. Good strategy we reckoned. Then we were treated to the sounds of them repeatedly putting themselves about, as they worked their way around the campsite, ignoring us.

We had to reconstruct the tent several times each night as someone always fell over it as they drunkenly tried to find their own canvas abode or the ones of our popular neighbours. We fared better than another chap who had one of his poles nicked, just the one you understand, which presumably was funnier than nicking all of them.

You learn such life lessons at these places, such as never to accept a plastic bottle of drink off anyone you don't know, not with toilet queues the lengths they were. Happy days.

(Thursday 26th August)

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Closing The Stable Door...

Pedal power today. I nearly run into, not literally, L and the boys. This would have meant doing the old meet and greet routine, so I try and slink past the end of the street without them noticing.

L reports back from the walk that there's a sign in the post office saying that the Wollaton Park Estate is now a conservation area, and they are asking people to report any alterations to the bungalows that don't have planning permission. This is news to me.

A quick check on the internet reveals that a few days ago the Development Control Committee of the Nottingham City Council designated a new conservation area around the Sutton Passeys area (that’s us, Sutton Passeys is a local street but also the name of a long lost village believed to have existed many moons ago nearby) of the city. The designation takes immediate effect and there’s a huge 47 page document about it, telling you what now needs planning permission. Basically this now means you now need planning permission to change just about anything and they will need to be in keeping with the historical character of the area.

The reasoning. ‘As soon as a bungalow is vacated, a developer moves in and vandalises the original design with the aim of letting it out to as many students as he can get away with.

The area is unique because of the design of the bungalows (the "Crane Houses"), which have steel frames and concrete wall panels. A Meccano kit basically, designed for rapid construction to meet the demand for new housing in the 1920's.

In a way this is all great news but it is also a case of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. Many of the houses retain their original shape and form but a lot have been altered, some bear little relation to their original form and that’s a shame. We’ve altered ours, new windows, new doors, new roof, loft conversion, all without planning permission because we didn’t need it. Not then. That said if we’d had to work within the restrictions of the new guidelines, I’m sure we could have done it. So it’s a shame these rules were not in place many years ago.

It’s a cold and wet cycle home. So much so that I don’t fancy venturing out into again with the dogs, so they’ll just have to make do with exercise in the garden. I’m in a rush anyway. Gig tonight.

Frank Turner is everywhere, he seems to be always performing somewhere, always touring. So much so that the options to see him were quite diverse for his upcoming December tour, from the large new Leicester Academy to the, by comparison, tiny Sheffield Plug. Then he announced a couple of warm-up gigs for his Reading and Leeds Festival appearances. Derby's excellent The Venue being one of them. Sold.

First though a Turner wannabe and perhaps apprentice, Ben Marwood. Who appears to have taken a couple of days off work and travelled for five hours up from Reading to be here tonight. After tomorrow’s appearance with Frank in Kendal he intends to be back at his boring desk job on Friday morning. That’s some schedule.

We are glad though that he took the trouble. He describes himself as ‘either a rubbish version of James Blunt or some kind of deity, depending on who you listen to’. Tonight Derby thinks it’s the latter and he seems quite taken aback by the reception he gets and deserves. It is the quality of the real life tales in his lyrics that make his songs so strong, the music accompaniment coming only from his acoustic guitar.

There are so many great lines of his that I could quote but ‘I will still be this cynical when I get paid and I’ll be this way until I get laid’, somehow stands out, from a track called ‘Oh My Days’. He does though, seem to have an obsession with ‘Get Cape, Wear Cape’ and whether they actually stole his sound or not... There may be a story to tell here but it’s not one he divulges tonight. It’s mentioned on his MySpace and in his second song tonight ‘Question Marks’.

His ‘moment’ though is probably his penultimate song ‘Singalong’ which is sheer genius. He endeavours to get the crowd to sing with him and of course succeeds with the great singalong chorus ‘Tried to write a singalong but we all forgot the words’. Marwood seems to be a bit of a star in the making, one to watch out for I think.

Talking of a deity, here’s Frank, with his punk folk songs straight from the heart. Opening with ‘Eulogy’, a great little new song and I mean little; it’s very short before ‘Poetry Of The Deed’ kicks off what proves to be an exceedingly hot and sweaty gig. It’s serious hot being amongst the crowd but it must be worse on stage and the band are soon dripping with sweat as they pack a lot of songs in early before Franks reverts to storytelling later, as he slows the pace.

His following seems to be ever increasing but one thing you don’t seem to get many of is the casual fan. The sold out crowd tonight are buzzing and just as fervent as every other Frank crowd I’ve seen. They know every word and can keep up, even in the fast bits such as on ‘Reasons Not To Be An Idiot’ which comes early. I can’t.

He explains the story behind ‘To Take You Home’ about a French girl who wasn’t that into him but he wrote the song about her anyway. He went all the way to Paris on the Eurostar to play it to her but before he could even tell her about it, she dumped him. So he says he swore never to play it... well we can’t keep all our promises can we.

For ‘Dan’s Song’ he needs a harmonica player and a girl in the audience has her hand up before he even asks, so she gets the gig. A plant? I don’t think so, just an avid fan who clearly knows the form and she clearly been practising, she’s very good.

Then a new song and a chance to ‘f**k off to the bar’ as Frank puts it. It’s not so new that it hasn’t been on YouTube though, a lot of the audience know it and are more than willing to join in when asked. A bit subdued at first but once Frank points out at how loud the Germans were last week, the volume is upped. As he says a touch of xenophobia works wonders.

Then the very sad ‘Long Live The Queen’. A song in memory of a good friend of his who died from breast cancer. It is such a powerful song, so well written and heart breakingly sad. Her death was a tragedy but yet the message is to celebrate her life, as she lived it to the full and that's what everyone should do.

As usual as the show draws to its close, Frank thanks everyone, his band of course but also all his crew as well. Then Ben Marwood joins him on stage for the closing ‘Photosynthesis’. A good job too, someone has to play acoustic guitar on it as Frank has shredded yet another guitar string.

Frank comes back solo for one more song but not before he’s requested that a shot of Jamesons be brought up from the bar. That’s not a shot; it looks like at least a double. Whiskey in one hand, lager in the other, he embarks on another of his long stories before he invites everyone to settle down with him around the ‘kitchen table’ without a mic for a communal rendition of ‘The Ballad Of Me And My Friends’.

This is supposed to be a festival warm-up, ‘f**k the festival’, he proclaims, ‘the shows here’ where we ‘have all the best stories to tell...’. Too right.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Bodger And Badger

I volunteer to walk the boys this morning. The boys who are now affectionately known as Bodger & Badger, which I don’t quite understand as I never really watched it when it was on and anyway Simon Bodger was a human. L says Doggo thinks he is.

On his walk, MD is a saint but then again, we didn’t see any dogs, cats, squirrels or deer. So that might have had something to do with it.

Driving off Pride Park the radio mentions a traffic jam in Beijing that has slowed vehicles to a crawl for nine days in a queue for about 100km. I suppose it’s not quite that bad here.

Mind you I bet they don’t have to contend with men dressed as pizza boxes staggering across the road in the wind... I kid you not. I won’t mention the company other than to say that if they’d toppled each other over it would have been very appropriate.

Another day dodging the showers, this time whilst dog training and then back home for a demonstration of L's squat thrusts. She’s been re-assessed at her gym, they said her last programme was too basic. Now they’ve got her doing squat thrusts among other things, though it’s known as 'Mountain Climbing' and she needs to build up to 200. Blimey. Plus she’s pulled a quad muscle. Not good news. We have a half marathon coming up you know. 19 days.

(Tuesday 24th August)

Sunday, August 22, 2010

I Have No Idea What She’s On About

I fail in my role as supportive partner and forget to kick L out of bed at 6am or to even walk the dogs so that she can leave early. Oops.

Not that our little dog seemed in need of a walk anyway. He looked too tired to put one paw in front of the other this morning, let alone patrol his patch but apparently he managed. The deer, who were grazing peacefully on the golf course, got the brunt of his barking. Oh dear or should that be oh deer. No one needs an alarm clock around our way once MD is out and on patrol. L describes it as like walking with the Gestapo.

I’m late but I make the bus, no problem, as it was 15 minutes late which should be impossible as they’re now every 10 minutes.

I’m on the bus because I run most of the way home after work, running between bus shelters to dodge the frequent, heavy but mercifully brief showers. Daughter is at a BBQ this evening, hence the rain. The run goes well, much better than last week when oddly I hadn’t done a 10k the day before. I stop where I finished last week, at 10.75 miles, to buy a drink because I can’t think of anywhere else I would be able to get something appropriate and then carry on to complete my 12 miles.

I was feeling rather smug after that until L texts to tell me she’s done 80 lengths of the pool. That’s not the really amazing news though. Earlier she had emailed me at work and asked if I was sitting down because she had something to tell me. OMG. What could this be...

Son had asked her if could join her for a lane swim. Perhaps I would have been better standing up, as I practically fell off yet another chair. Wonder what’s brought that on but who cares. Good for him.

L wonders if this girl he’s friendly with is a better swimmer. She says she knows how the male pride works when a girl is in front of them. I have no idea what she’s on about.

(Monday 23rd August)

Saturday, August 21, 2010

It’s Not My Week

Serious stuff today, as we get a safety briefing before the start of the Welbourn Castle 10k Trail Run. It concerns muddy fields, slippery bridges and rabbit holes. As I said serious stuff, for my ankles.

This race got absolutely murdered on the Runners World forums last year for its unfriendliness to runners but the organisers appear to have listened. It’s a new ‘improved course’ using farmer’s roads, footpaths and bridleways. There even seems to be plenty of tarmac in it for people like me who prefer the terra firma to the terra very muddy. Walkers have been told, politely I assume, to start at the back and to not get in the way of the runners and the whole thing kicks off from the brand new Welbourn Village Hall with all facilities on site. So I can’t whinge really.

It is a bit warm though... and it’s certainly hard going on the legs, particularly on those narrow tracks that really flexed my ankles. Still, this is just a training run. I don’t want to do ‘fast’ as this is part of my Nottingham Half Marathon training where I won’t be running at my usual 10k pace. So I took it fairly steady and I even stopped at the first drinks station. I also have half an eye on my planned run home from work tomorrow, 12 miles hopefully. I need to save some energy for that.

Overall, the race was pleasant enough. I almost enjoyed it. Well apart from that ploughed field near the end, that wasn’t the best. My time of 46 minutes wasn’t too bad either in the circumstances and I also came in just ahead of the first lady, which is always nice. I so seem to be allergic to this race though, as my legs were nicely red afterwards. I seem to have picked up a nasty rash from somewhere, clearly something in the undergrowth disagreed with me.

Then the best bit. All the runners got a free pint afterwards at the local pub, The Joiners Arms, so that was good, and also a Toonie Express Mug. Toonie Express being the organisers and very well organised it was as well. Doubt they’ll be any complaints this year.

Then we go bed shopping. We’re finally replacing the one Son trashed at one of his parties. As he starts Uni in October and parties are banned anyway, this one hopefully will be with us a bit longer than the last one was. We buy a new mattress with it but then faced with a hefty delivery fee comes the problem of getting it home. Until the salesman introduces us to vacuum packed mattresses which means you can get it in the car but then when you open the packaging it explodes into life and becomes a normal mattress. Cool.

After that the day is just like old times, the perfect race day, out for Sunday lunch after a post race bath and warm down. Then having survived the morning’s race I fall off a chair at home and injure my wrist. Not completely my fault, it was a chair that I had repaired after it also, like the bed, fell victim to one of Son’s parties. This tells me two things. One, I’m not very good at repairing chairs and two, it’s not my week.

(Sunday 22nd August)

Friday, August 20, 2010

All Or Nothing

Seems I’m in the correct place today. Cheshire. Where it doesn’t rain at all. Nottingham apparently is very wet.

MD’s first run of the day. Clear. Yay. Clearly my many injuries haven't held him or me back. Toe seems ok. Back ok too. That is his highlight though. One clear from four. He’s running well but just keeps knocking poles. Someone suggests putting flashing lights on the poles so that he can see them. Hmmm, that would just give him one more thing to bark at.

Doggo also has only one clear, but from three in his case. In his (our) defence they were tough courses at his level today and we had to go for it, all or nothing as they say. That'll be nothing then. We share the blame, one mess up each. Still, he can stay in tonight to ponder on why he missed out the 'wishing well' whilst L and I nip down the Crown.

(Saturday 21st August)

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Mislaid Plans

L wants to be up at six and I need to be up not much later if I’m to cycle. The weather though looks a bit unpromising. No, scrub that comment, the weather looks ugly, plus I still have a damaged toe and a bad back. Think I best stay in bed where it’s safer, I can’t injure myself in here surely.

In the end neither of us gets up until at least an hour later. I miss my bike deadline and I’m also too late for the bus. So it’s the car again, well at least I can ‘read’ my book and it’s always nice to have a lie in with L.

I can put my feet up tomorrow, kind of, even though it’s a dog show. The dogs can do all the running around.

After work, L makes up for her mislaid plans from this morning by going for a long run whilst I limp around the park with the dogs. My back seems to be improving, despite an hour of ball throwing, but my foot is getting worse. Then we dump the dogs and head into town for some liquid anaesthetic for my toe.

(Friday 20th August)

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

A Day For The Paracetamol

My legs were throbbing that much last night that they kept me awake for a while. Perhaps I’ve overdone it a bit. I’m in the car today anyway and can finally get something to feed the troops with.

Today is A Level results day. L is stressed naturally, mentions Daughter and Paracetamol in the same sentence several times and says her head is about to burst. I wasn’t stressed until it gets to lunchtime and still no results have filtered through. Son isn’t even here; he’s in Cornwall and has had to write a letter agreeing for someone else to collect his results. He’s Mr unbothered and over confident anyway. He’s doesn’t do as well as he might have done, due to being Mr unbothered and over confident, but he still bags his intended university place. Daughter, Ms very bothered and not at all confident, passes everything, mostly with ease, and still isn’t happy. There’s no pleasing some people. When I point at that her results are far better than mine I get a lecture on the fact that A Levels are so much easier these days... she reads too many of those newspapers she delivers.

The weather puts paid to any planned flirtations with tennis, thankfully, so it’s squash again this week. For once I really enjoy it. Three titanic and close games, then level at 3-3 in the 4th. I lose 2-1 but it could have gone either way. Then I come home with a bad back to add to the injury list. I must have sat funny in the pub.

I get home and L is trying out the new hoover in Son’s bedroom. She’s been soooo looking forward to trying it out. Which is kind of sad... I’m surprised it didn’t take one look at Son’s bedroom and expire like the last one did.

(Thursday 19th August)

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Who's Counting?

With only 25 days to go to the Nottingham Half Marathon, but hey, whose counting, I have a mangled toe nail and an accompanying limp. L gives me some foam padding for my toes so that I can still manage my intended four mile run to work. In the end I don’t use it; I use the grin and bear it technique instead.

The run was hard but then I expected it to be. I needed to run on tired legs. That was kind of the point really. It didn’t help though that my audiobook ran out only five minutes in. The story stopped a bit sudden, leaving nothing tidied up. It makes you want to start the next book straight away and I didn’t really want to do that. At least we can go and see the film now. This is ‘The Girl Who Played With Fire’ I’m talking about.

I get an email from Summer Sundae asking what my festival highlight was. That’s easy. Nice one Gareth Campesinos!

Another festival success, The Fall, inspire L to go in search of their latest album in Fopp. Unfortunately when she looked for it in the obviously place, under ‘F’, it wasn’t there. She discovered a ‘Festivals’ section which had a ‘Summer Sundae’ subsection but no, not there either. An assistant eventually pointed her to the ‘Retro’ section... Bizarre. I have no idea why shops have to sectionalise things. Does anybody understand these sections? Probably not. Alphabetical order only please. It’s no wonder people buy off the net and record shops are closing.

I meet up with some old school friends after work and desperately try to get some stimulating gossip for L but my friends just haven’t done anything exciting. Certainly nothing worth gossiping about. Though we do end up talking about dead school friends. We can name four from our year and that's just the ones we know about. Scary.

(Wednesday 18th August)

Monday, August 16, 2010

Junk Miles

I change my original plans to drive to work and do the weekly food shop, instead I cycle to work. No, I can’t carry the shopping on my bike. Panniers you say... don’t even go there. We’ll all have to starve... I feel I need to crash course my base fitness.

As I rejoin my fellow Mamils, L runs to work. ‘Pure junk miles’ she says and appears rather proud of it. Junk miles are supposedly miles that you run purely to clock up a certain weekly or monthly mileage total. I say there’s no such thing as junk miles. If I run thirteen and a bit junk miles in... let me see... 26 days time, I will have completed the Nottingham Half Marathon.

After work I go to the pool for some junk lengths, thirty of them. On twenty eight I somehow bash my toes on the side of the pool as I turn. I limp, if you can limp whilst you swim, the last two, probably looking a bit like a crab.

On closer inspection I think I’ve dislodged a toe nail. I stop closer inspecting; it’s not a pretty sight and I feel slightly faint.

I still manage to hobble a few junk metres around the garden to get a bit of junk training in for MD over the hurdles.

After which I’m knackered, which is a good excuse to talk L into an early night. Junk sex? Of course not, no such thing.

(Tuesday 17th August)

Sunday, August 15, 2010

This Is Going To Hurt

Back to reality today. The reality of having to go to work and the reality of having the Nottingham Half Marathon looming just 27 days away. Two weeks before that I have the Chesterfield 10 miler.

Both L and I book into a 10k for the weekend, for training purposes. The Welbourn Castle 10k is off road and reviews of last year's inaugural event on Runners World are not promising, in fact they are horrendous. It is so not my type of event. However they say they've changed the course this year, even introduced a bit of road to it and beggars, who are low on training, can’t be choosers.

I get the bus into work, as I’m going to run home.

My last training run was 9 miles a few weeks ago, so I daren’t drop the distance from that. I need to get some miles under my feet. However, after nearly two weeks with only one run and that was just a short one with L on holiday, I know this is going to hurt. It does. Though knowing it will does not make it any easier.

Somehow, with a few stops, I manage an impress 10.75 miles, though it wasn’t pretty. As further punishment for being a slacker I vow to cycle to work tomorrow.

Son is away, so L puts on the protective clothing and goes up to blitz his room. Collecting up the hundreds of empty pot noodles cartons, half-eaten pizza slices, empty Strongbow cans and probably the odd packed lunch from school that’s been festering for the last three years. I think the environment is so harsh up there that even the cockroaches are having trouble surviving there.

(Monday 16th August)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Another Reason To Remember Leicester

Day three. We amble across to Leicester mid afternoon, restricted a little by the Sunday service on the trains. It’s sunny. The mud has baked nicely dry and its firm enough to sit on, as many folk do as Jose Gonzales's band Junip take the main stage for a spot of Spanish guitar laden electro from Sweden.

Indoors it’s instrumental band Errors, a pounding mix of synths, guitar and drums. We’ve seen a few like this recently. They are excellent but instrumental just doesn’t do it for me... they need a vocalist. Wonder if Mark E Smith is still in the building.

We’re back at the main stage just as Low Anthem go totally acoustic and shun all modern forms of amplification. This is fine at your typical spit and sawdust intimate venue but a main stage outdoors... The consequence is that most of quite a large assembled crowd have no idea what’s going on as they perform to solely the first five rows.

Once they plug back in, they have their moments but we want to get front row for Los Campesinos!, so we hurry back indoors, where we hear Gareth sound-checking with a few Mumford swear words, who headline the main stage later.

Sunday was on paper the best day at the festival. Drowned in Sound have sponsored today’s indoor line-up and it’s a pretty good one with LC! followed by Frightened Rabbit and then The Futureheads.

As Los Campesinos! take the stage a quick head count confirms that they are eight strong today. Thankfully there’s lots of room for them on stage this time, plenty of room for Gareth to show off his lack of dancing skills, unlike last time we saw them at the Musician. They turn in a typically perky set, perfect festival music which is perhaps why they pull the biggest indoor crowd of the day.

Their only other previous trip to Leicester, that show at the Musician, is where Gareth tells us they had their merchandise stolen. Now he has another reason to remember Leicester... During the closing ‘Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks’ Gareth gestures to the crowd to clear a space for him to jump into. Then as he leaps he seems to catch a foot on the barrier and goes down head first. If only they’d been someone there to catch him... The band, such professionals, play on regardless and Kim picks up the vocals, meanwhile the crowd peel Gareth off the floor boards and the splinters out of his face. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to be in too bad a shape.

Local Natives are now on the main stage, L approves and they are livelier than I expected. The big news is though that the real ale has run out, so it falls to Frightened Rabbit to lift my rapidly sobering mood. They are another band we've only seen on tiny stages, so also must be revelling in the extra space. They also come now with added polish, a feature of playing so many gigs I suppose.

Scott tells us the rabbits were indeed frightened by a scary flight into Birmingham this morning. They play an oddly short fifty minute set, shorter than LC!

Mumford and Sons’ sound probably suits the outdoor arena. Though I’m not sure how they’ll stretch their limited output to fill a headline slot but there’s plenty of people willing to find out. We linger a while and they sound good, their album transferring to an outdoor arena much better than I thought it would. We have divided loyalties though and nip back indoors to catch the onslaught that is the Futureheads.

Their simple rock sound is a punchy and fitting finale to the weekend.

(Sunday 15th August)

Friday, August 13, 2010

Meet Me By The Knitting Tent

I send L off ahead to the festival as I take in the football. Derby v Cardiff. After the opening day win at Leeds expectation was brought back to earth with the traditional annual defeat to a lower division club in the League Cup. Derby are a consistently inconsistent as ever and lose 2-1. Seems this will be another season like the last one.

L's mission at the festival, should she choose to accept it, is among other things, to report back on X-Factor ‘star’ Diana Vickers... Audience dividing might be a polite way of putting it. She doesn’t watch for long, nor does she linger long in the company of Paul Simon’s offspring Harper either. Though she does brave the front row and the rain for Turin Brakes, who I’m reliably informed were excellent ‘Summer rain, dripping down your face again’, how apt... whatever that song’s about.

I arrive soon after and we rendezvous outside the knitting tent, where else, where I’m told we’re heading inside for a spot of tongue... I mishear, she says Tunng. Which turns out to not be a Norwegian fish dish being sold by one of the many eclectic food sellers but a UK band specialising in something they call folktronica. The hall is packed and it's not even raining, at the moment. Brilliantly quirky.

Then we wade through the mud to the main stage for the hotly tipped Stornoway. Who are more folksy than I expected and pleasant but also rather empty sounding.

Back indoors, Canada’s Caribou take an age to set up but I guess it’s their own stage time they’re wasting. ‘Inventive funk grooves’ my programme says from a chap called Dan Snaith who’s been around in many guises for a decade or more. Seems he can’t make his mind up about his sound and still hasn’t.

That said all the bands indoors are sounding better than those outside in the wind and the rain. Funny that, acoustics are a wonderful thing. Why would any band plump for the outdoor stage?

Then to the continually full Musician Tent from which a pair of female lungs in full flow can be heard. I like a bit of girl rock, so we battle our way inside for the first time and to the front, where we discover Tiffany Page on the far too low stage.

Visibility is still close to nil even near the front but at least you can feel the sweat and the spit off her and her band. I approve but I get tugged away from this rock chick and instead we head to the Rising Stage and a US band called Fool’s Gold who specialise in African rhythms. They deliver a lively and colourful show that appeals to L but they’re not Tiffany...

Nor, back on the main stage, are Brighton’s The Go! Team, who rather appropriately go on a bit, so we head back early to the Musician tent to see who's next to grace the soggy stage left behind by Tiffany Page. We bagsy a good spot in time to see Sunderland’s Frankie And The Heartstrings, who are a kind of 80’s style rock 'n' roll act. We almost make the front row but then get pushed back. It seems you are guaranteed front row only if you have a big camera and maybe a press pass. Note to the Musician, next year can we please have a bigger tent, a higher stage and a press area like they have on the other stages.

Indoors it’s packed for The Fall. I think this is the fourth time I’ve seen The Fall, each one being approximately ten years apart. Perhaps this is the correct spacing for Fall gigs. You either like what Mark E Smith does or you don't. Though sometimes the band are only as good as the musicians Smith assembles around him. Tonight his band are awesome. All they need is a more conventional vocalist... only kidding, that would be missing the point entirely. Despite the blinding musical backdrop the focal point remains Mark E himself, who ambles around the stage bellowing out the lyrics to go with the terrific sounds being produced by his band. It’s a good blend.

The crowd, a mix of the devoted, the confused, the appalled or the simply enthralled (that’s us) lap it up or pop outside to wait for Tinchy Stryder. The tracks, I understand, not being a Fall aficionado, are drawn mainly from their latest album ‘Your Future Our Clutter’, which must be some record. Smith wanders around the stage, twiddling with things, and at one point turfs his wife, Elena Poulou, off her keyboard and then goes on to show why she’s playing it and he isn’t. Then in the end he simply decides the band have done enough for one night, puts his jacket back on and exits stage left. Top that Tinchy...

Which I suppose he may have done... but I doubt it. Though we’re again too rock n roll to stay and find out, as we head off for our train.

(Saturday 14th August)

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Summer Sundae Weekender

We’re doing the whole music festival thing on the cheap this year. Well, on a smaller scale at least, travelling only to Leicester and the Summer Sundae Weekender in the grounds of De Montfort Hall. A festival that is now in its tenth year and if, like us, you’re used to huge festivals like Leeds this one is much cosier. You can walk around the entire site and all five stages in around ten minutes. They even sell proper beer. We’re so hip we’re even here for the whole weekend and we have the wristbands to prove it.

This is a festival like no other... perhaps... it has a garden

A knitting tent

And of course the sundaes

And where wellies and mini-skirts are the order of the day

(photo withheld)

And a few bands.

Kyt, a local band and the winner of the BBC East Midlands competition get the honour of opening the main stage. Their music is unfamiliar to us of course, apart from ‘Solsbury Hill’, yes that one. It’s an interesting version. They weren’t bad, drawing a reasonable crowd but the elements intervened and the first of several bouts of rain drove us and many others indoors.

One advantage of Summer Sundae is that De Montfort Hall itself is on hand as a safe haven from such weather but I certainly don’t envy whoever has to wash all the mud out of the carpets come Monday. Nottingham’s Spotlight Kid are the first band to grace the indoor stage. Three guitars, bass and a girl vocalist, more 90’s shoegazing retro but they prove to be the best of the local bands we see across the weekend.

Leicester’s Musician venue have their own tent and we stumbled across Kirsty Almeida in there. Her jazz n blues n stuff seemed very popular with the sat down chilled out crowd, although this might be because of the rain. The Musician presumably had a hand in the nearby real ale tent as well, which is a very welcome sight compared with the usual beer desert that festivals are.

We venture back outside where Charlie And The Martyrs are dabbling with another odd mix of styles on the main stage but it soon starts raining again, so we switch our attention to another Nottingham band Swimming on the indoor stage. They are another band who can’t decide whether they want an 80’s guitar sound or an 80’s keyboard sound and consequently mix in too much of both.

The Phoenix eFestivals tent is mainly for comedy and showing films but when we pop in there for a change of scenery there are some weird choir rehearsals going on. Apparently for a performance later on during the weekend.

There are a few no shows today, artist wise, and quite a few artistes switching stages. We get caught out when we wander back to the main stage to see Fanfarlo but apparently they are stuck on the motorway, allegedly and we get the Mercury nominated Irish singer-songwriter Fionn Regan instead. The sun comes out for him but he does little for me.

Following him though, come the Sunshine Underground to brighten up my day, delivering a typically excellent forty-five minute set and it even stays dry for them.

After which L suggests we take in a couple of Lou Rhodes songs but we leave after only one. She’s so pleasant it's painful. Off for a pint instead. Which I sup listening to comedian Adrian Poynton in the eFestivals tent. He turns from your average unfunny comedian to suddenly quite amusing once he started ad-libbing and picking on his audience. This improved his act no end but did nothing for audience retention as people started to leave out of fear of being his next victim. We move on... to see Teenage Fanclub who haven't changed much since I saw them at Trent Poly decades ago.

They jangled along merrily and inoffensively then and did so today as well, there were even a few tunes I vaguely remembered.

Back to the Musician tent which is packed for Danny and The Champions Of The World. So packed we can't get in, which is a feature of the Musician tent all weekend. It's a riot in there for Danny and co, so I guess he must have been good.

The find of the day are Sheffield’s Charles Watson and Rebecca Taylor, collectively known as Slow Club, who are excellent until she stops singing and starts talking. Crikes that accent. Stick to what you’re best at Rebecca, singing. L is so impressed she goes home and orders the album.

All that is left is a choice between headliners Roots Manuva (indoors) or Seasick Steve (outside). We choose Seasick Steve and walk out after two songs. How rock n roll of us. Can’t see the appeal to be honest, yes he was unique and impressive with his guitar playing when he broke through on Later with Jools a few years ago but now... just another blues act or perhaps I just don’t get it, as he seems popular tonight. His guitar playing being whisked away on the gathering wind as we head off for our train home. Nope, we’re not camping.

(Friday 13th August)

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

If There’s A Race To Be Had, We’ll Find It

The 10k the night before we went away goes well, for both of us. I’m happy with my time but I’m sure I would have been quicker but for the uphill track last lasted for almost the entire second half of the race. 5k of the very straight and the very boring. I wait at the finish, in my personal trainer capacity as well as my supportive partner capacity, hoping for a good time from L. Within four minutes of her target time, that I’m trying to train her up for, would show we're moving in the right direction. She gets within two. Well chuffed and that's just me. Actually I think I’m more pleased than she is.

The next morning we head off down to the New Forest in glorious weather. Once there, in a village just outside Fordingbridge, we set up camp at the dog show... naturally there was a reason for coming down here. Then we head off to sit outside the local pub and soak up some rays.

Friday, the first day of competition, dawns cold and wet, of course. The boys struggle a bit. Doggo gets an elimination though I was pushing him, then goes clear in his second run but is outside the places. MD has a few poles on some tough courses including a tricky Olympia qualifier.

The weather is better on Saturday, well a bit. MD’s only run sees him get a few more poles but Doggo is clear in his two events, including in his Olympia qualifier, although just outside a rather tight time limit.

That’s it for competing for the boys but on Sunday we head into Salisbury for a 10k there. Naturally if there’s a race to be had, we’ll find it. In fact there are many distances to choose from but 10k is enough really. We are on holiday after all. We were all going to do it, the boys included as it’s a dog friendly event. Though I would have had to have started at the back with them which would have been tough psychologically obviously, for the boys as well as for me. Doggo does like to be up front, just like his master. In the end though only L does the race. The weather has turned hot again and it’s just too warm to run the dogs or to leave them in the car. So the three of us settle for a spot of supporting instead.

The football season opens and Derby start with a win, away from home and against Leeds. Seemingly all my Christmases have come at once. Every dawn though, in their case, is usually a false one and they follow this with defeat to League Two Crewe on Tuesday night in the cup. Same old Derby then.

Monday is a trip to the Dorset coast.

Whereas Tuesday and Wednesday see us walking sections of the New Forest. In the rain on Tuesday and in the nice weather that Wednesday brings. There are plenty of horses for MD to get lippy with.

Then Thursday its home time. We have some serious raving to do over the weekend.

(Thursday 12th August)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Holiday Mode

L's in holiday mode already, well, she says she can't be bothered to work.

Typically the weather’s turned foul, right on queue. Not good for holidays or the 10k I have tonight or the outdoor dog training I have this afternoon.

L reckons the holiday situation is easily solved because it'll be romantic in a tent with a bottle of red. Especially if the dogs are in the car and not the tent. Sounds like we’re taking wine then, which is usually a dangerous thing to do. Though, we're at a dog show for the first few days, so probably best to take a few bottles to pass the time.

I’m dogging this afternoon because the club have offered everyone an additional free two hour session. There is an evening session but... we have this run. A 10k from Mickleover, named after a chap who used to be L’s boss when she was 17. Not sure if this is why she wants to run it or not. Hopefully the foul weather will make me want to run faster and I’ll get a good time.

All of which I’ll report back on later, cause now I’m in holiday mode myself.

Back in ten days or so.

(Wednesday 4th August)

Monday, August 2, 2010

There Is A Dark Horse Among Us

It’s odd at home without Daughter. The place seems less like living in Paddington Station without her, which has its benefits, but it’s eerily quiet.

We go away on Thursday and she doesn’t return until Friday. Then when we get back from our trip Son immediately heads off to Newquay. We assumed this was a lads’ trip but no... he’s off with a girl and her parents. He’s a dark horse. Apparently she’s just a girl who's a friend. L says we're not debating that one. That’ll be the old men and women can't be friends issue then.

L’s taking him shopping tomorrow, mainly for swimming trunks, in case he intends partaking in watery frivolities in the surfing capital of the UK and to avoid him having to skinny dip with his friend... and her parents.

L’s not having the best of days, dropping her new watch, forgetting her breakfast and having to wrestle with the telephone system of the tax credits people, predominately to stop them paying us too much. We shouldn't have to do this. If they got everyone’s details right in the first place people wouldn’t have to ring up, then all their lines wouldn’t be busy.

In the evening I head over for dog training, dropping L off on the way so that she can run with some friends. They start and finish at a pub naturally. Well at least I can have a pint when I pick her up.

(Tuesday 3rd August)

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Serious Training

Tonight I’m planning my first serious training run as part of my build up to the Nottingham Half Marathon. So I get the bus and walk the rest of the way to work, listening to my book (I’m turning into L), saving my energy for later. I shall do the run straight from work.

Daughter rings. The ‘Rave Shack’ is up and running... and presumably raving. In fact they’ve stripped the shirt off the only boy and written the name of their adopted abode across his bare chest. What with I’m not sure but I hope it’s erasable.

After work, I run from Pride Park to Long Eaton, that’s around nine miles. It’s tough, very tough. My legs ache a lot when I get home and that isn’t supposed to happen. For the first time ever I ran listening to an audiobook rather than music (I am seriously turning into L). I thought this might cause me to run slower but obviously not, if the state of my legs are to be believed.

Despite being well knackered after that, I still decide that I ought to finish cutting the hedge, now that the wasps have been culled. We’re going away on Thursday and I wasn’t sure when I’d get another chance to do it.

The wasp’s nest is very impressive.

Despite all this activity, I still can’t sleep. Perhaps I’m overtired. Who knows? They do say as you get older you require less and less sleep, unless you’re L that is, but at this rate I’ll soon require none at all. Apparently it bottoms out at about four hours a night but I can undercut that.

(Monday 2nd August)