Thursday, 22 May 2008

Good For The Cholesterol

More pointless research has revealed how men misinterpret women's body language. The survey says, that yes, some men are prone to mistake a mere friendly smile as a green light for something else and in these circumstances a girl should never encourage them by doing something suggestive, such as asking them the time.

However these chaps are, according to the survey, in the minority and in fact most of us wouldn't be able to spot a blatant come-on if it ran us over while driving a steamroller. The girl would have to be waving a big banner or I suppose her undergarments, for us to notice. I've always said this, it's a foreign world, and we need a phrase book.

So if the women I greet with a 'Good Morning', on my run to work, are ignoring me because they are worried that I might misinterpret their response, they have no cause to be. What the men's problem is, I'm not sure.

For some reason I find my run hard today and I'm two minutes slower than last week. L and the dog obviously took too many edges off me last night.

L's been to the gym by bike, no less. She says the gym is quiet today, presumably because it's not ‘singles’ day today. L reckons they all want to 'get it over with' early in the week. Once-a-weekers, who obviously don’t do it every day like L.

After work I jog off to catch the Red Arrow and then on to squash. I ask my opponent whether he's been replacing the games we've missed with treadmill sessions. No, he confesses, he hasn't, but he has been doing a lot of gardening since we last played. Gardening! Very impressive. Now I'm worried, I don’t do gardening, far too strenuous.

In the match, I start well and win the first but then lose three in a row. I'm 10-6 up in the fifth when I rather ambitiously attempt to reach a ball that is going well past me. I get the ball back but not into court and fall sideways landing heavily on my knee. Ouch. Cue much hobbling around and cries of 'oh dear'. After a short break we continue and with me struggling, he pulls the game level at 10-10 but by then my knee is loosening up and I get back in front. I'm 13-10 up when the next players knock on the door and our game is over. Damn.

In the pub, I go for a pint of Archers. Which I always regret, it's always pale. Never mind.

L is late home from work and when I get back, she's on the park with Doggo, I limp across to join them. Kicking his ball proves difficult. It's not looking promising.

L rustles up some late 'slag' food and then I suggest we take a port to bed. L says to make it a 'good one'. The question is whether she means a small one as in 'good for the alcohol units' or a large one as in 'good for the cholesterol'...

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