I bus and run this morning. Two male cyclists acknowledge me and even get their 'good mornings' in first. Blimey. Cyclists and runners don't often cross-socialise, cyclists just run the runners down, accidentally of course.
I don’t feel fast and so it proves, I'm as slow as last week. Not only does my knee still feel dodgy but also now my shoulder is playing up.
In the afternoon L, emails from home and recommends that I don't come home. The two females in the household are often competing to see who's got the blackest mood. Today Daughter is winning, something to do with her managing to demolish yet another pair of ipod headphones. L suggests I get off the bus in Beeston and meet her at the pub. She's just trying to get me to go to the pub in my running shorts. It's a tempting offer and also a promising sign, if she's feeling iniquitous, then her mood must be lifting.
I catch the bus home in my shorts and Duathlon T-shirt causing a little social anxiety as I go. They do say that these things must be worn responsibly. Apparently if you wear 'event' t-shirts at the gym they're great for stimulating conversation with the opposite sex but unfortunately I don't 'do' the gym. Wearing them on the Red Arrow doesn't seem to have the same effect. All I get is vacant stares and possibly a touch of pity.
As usual two Red Arrows turn up a once, the one I get on is obviously the one that's running late because the driver waves everyone on without taking any money, so I get yet another free trip. Another step closer to financial ruin for Trent-Barton.
Later we end up in Beeston after all, by foot, for a beer or four. Today I found out an interesting fact that beer contains something called choline which ironically protects against liver damage... bring it on... if taken in small quantities... damn.