Return Of The Two-Wheeled Demon

I have trouble this morning with a guy in silly shorts on a road bike. His kit was bizarre because he had cycling shorts on underneath. Clearly an undercover psycho. He kept shortcutting on the pavements. Sometimes this puts me behind him, sometimes ahead. It was infuriating and totally pointless. Then when he dragged his feet uphill, I passed him. After having the 'hammer down' for a while I thought I'd totally lost him, in fact I thought he'd turned off, because I couldn't see him anywhere behind me. So feeling rather smug, I slowed down and even had a drink. Then a few miles down the road he came past me again. To top it all he completely ignored my two good mornings to him. Some people take it all far too seriously.

I'm at work, still licking my wounds, when I get an email from L asking where's her text asking 'if she was still alive' was. Oops, I forgot L was getting the two-wheeled demon out this morning.

She's feeling rather smug herself because she's done 10 miles this morning. Blimey, sounds to me like she got lost but no, she says she's been doing loops of the Park Estate, 'buzzing' the builders who were working there. Although she says she didn't manage to extract any comment from them, even after she passed them for the 4th time. Hmmm, she sounds disappointed to me. Perhaps they were working for Wimpey Homes, aren't they the ones that have banned the wolf whistle, much to the chagrin of most women who seem to enjoy getting such a reaction.

I still can't believe she did laps; she hates doing laps. She reckons she's aiming to do 50 miles this week, out of doors. I'm impressed.

After cycling home, I take Doggo on the park. Where first it hails on us but then just resorts to a good old-fashioned downpour. For some reason the park is surprisingly quiet! Though Doggo does find a chap in a yellow jacket to run after, presumably because he thinks he's me. Hello? I'm here; he isn't even on a bike. He doesn't even give a second glance to two female runners in wet lycra, which I don't understand at all.

I get home in time to strip out of my wet clothes, just as L is stripping out of hers, having cycled back from Pilates. Alas I'm out-sizzled by the kids' pork chop's under the grill, which gets her attention before I do. Then as L and Daughter delve into the 'romance' of Jane Eyre on TV, I brush up on the romantic bits of 'Elbow' while cooking us a posh spam curry. L's already upped the ante by quoting 'we kiss like we invented it' to me, she tells me this is her favourite line.

My curry sauce, by the way, turns out to be excellent, even if I do say so myself.