In The Army

L causes me a relapse on my dodgy knee this morning by getting me to fill in another race entry form. Well it’s more the process of bending down to sign it that does it.

Despite the dodgy-ness of my knee, I still bike to work. Unlike yesterday it's a glorious day. I arrive at work to find that L is off ‘us’ cyclists. She says she met a couple of them who had left their brakes and their brains at home as they attempted to wipe her off the canal towpath. Oh dear.

She's also been discussing revision tactics with another parent. This parent has threatened to enlist her son in the army if he fails his ‘A level’ exams. Now there's an idea ... and it would at least get Son a haircut.

I cycle to the pool which is uncomfortably busy. That said, the 'fast' lane is moving quite well until this older gentlemen gets in and proceeds to float from end to end, glued to the bottom of the pool. At first I think he's drowning, as he keeps floating under the ropes and into the next lane but every so often he surfaces, usually feet first, to prove he’s still alive. One of the girl psychos keep stopping mid-length, I think she thinks he's a pervert for swimming underneath her, and eventually she gets out in disgust.

Odd happenings in the changing rooms too. There's this butch looking guy :- shaven head, bulging muscles, covered in tattoos, who can't face getting changed with everyone else. So instead he gets changed in the baby changing area so no one can see him strip off. Ah bless, he's shy.

Home and then dog training where Doggo is brilliant, if very very gobby.