Mr Fix-It

I'm still putting a brave face on this running lark as I 'mango' over to Borrowash and run into work. It's a good run, sunny and pleasant apart from being ignored by my fellow athletes. I try out my new gold-plated trainers for the first time, £81 you know; thankfully no one tries to mug me for them. They turn out to be a mixed blessing. They're a bit weird, with hardly any padding under the toes, I feel like I'm leaning forwards all the time and on the verge of tipping over. Perhaps this is what wearing high-heels feels like. I think they'll take some getting used to. Time was good though, so perhaps they work.

I get a phone call from Derby Highways Department. A few months ago, fuelled by the success of getting my own white lines painted around the Asda roundabout, I raised another query with them to see if they could get the lines repainted on the 'advance cycle zone' at the traffic lights in Spondon. They ring to tell me that they'll be done next week. Just call me Mr Fix-It

Doggo drags L to the park to meet me off the bus. As the same time that L is being rapidly propelled towards the park. I'm being rapidly propelled along the A52 by another psycho driver.

In the evening we bus up to Ilkeston and join some impressive beer bellies at the Ilkeston Beer Festival. We have six halves each. There are lots of 5% porters and stouts but nothing very revolutionary. L has the best two beers, both paler ones. Our trusty Supreme and one from Hoskins.

We get home and the Fratellis are on Jools, so we decide the best option is to retire to bed.