I'm on the bike today and manage to avoid rain. I totally powered it, well at least I think I did, the battery’s flat in my bike computer so I can't be totally sure.
I'm only at work this morning, as at 5pm, we have a summit meeting at Son's college and then I need to be back in Derby for the match tonight. The weather doesn't look promising but I delay and avoid the worst of the rain again. At home, both the boys are very pleased to see me and L's left some spicy pumpkin soup in the fridge. Hot soup and two dogs to warm my feet up, what more could one want after a wet cycle.
L meanwhile, is off having sex down by the canal... that is power walking with her latest mucky book, Birdsong, which is supposed to be the best WWI book ever written, Son would have studied it had he remained at Bilborough, but it turns out that the book is basically one long prolonged sex scene. She says Sebastian Faulks is just a dirty old man who would be better off employed writing for PlayBoy. Hmmm. I’m not sure sex scenes work on an audio book, might not have been too bad in print but I think she likes it really.
She also has to drop off a bike, which she found in their hedge at work, at the police station. I told her reporting it wouldn't do any good and they'd make her drop it round rather than fetch it themselves. It's probably on eBay by now.
Back home MD is being silly, rolling over on his back with his legs in the air and manages to roll under the wardrobe where he gets himself stuck. Cue lots of panic, frantic wriggling and pathetic whining. I come to his assistance just in time to catch the wardrobe door as it falls towards me; somehow, he's managed to dislodge it. I catch it just before it lands on Doggo. Crisis averted.
I take them both on park but that's not enough to wear the little blighter out. As I'm getting ready to leave for the college, Doggo and I stand in the doorway watching MD whizzing around the garden chasing a flowerpot, or perhaps it's chasing him. Doggo issues a big sigh, looks at me and rolls his eyes or something like that.
So to college, where hopefully the great mystical secrets of A Levels, along with the unanswerable question of how to get a teenage boy motivated for them, will be disclosed.
Afterwards, it would have to be said, things are not a lot clearer. There was a lot of head shaking from Son's tutor, who's obviously seen it all before.
I was right about one thing though. It must be hard for the lads to keep their minds on their studies because out of an English class of twenty students, just three are boys. Wow, that's roughly a 6:1 ratio and that's just English. The rest of the college looks equally well stocked with lusty wenches, who once they spy the boys in the canteen with their copies of Faustus, will all be begging to come round and study with them.
I'm dead jealous, I never had the guts or the forethought to do babe friendly courses like English. I wasted my hormones in Physics, Maths and Computing.
I'm back in Derby for the match, which is probably the best game we've seen in eons. Last year was obviously a complete embarrassment and even Billy Davies's promotion side, successful though it was bored us to tears. A credible 1-1 draw with Birmingham but we really should have won.