Don't Read Anything Into This

We're all running a bit late this morning. I was so late, that I had to risk the A52, which is quicker when it’s open, which doesn't seem too often these days. Thankfully today it was.

L moans she only had chance for 30 lengths in the pool. Sounds impressive enough to me. She ducks out of yoga, on the premise that she needs a good leg for the 10k on Sunday. Personally, I'd have thought more than one leg would be required but I guess she knows what she's doing.

L's also late because she did Son's paper round for him, as he's full of cold. Big mistake. The resulting international incident has totally overshadowed the banking crises and the stock market crash in these parts. Daughter was not impressed because no one helped her when she was ill... Hmmm, all I dare say, in case someone tampers with the brakes on my bike, is that that's an ingenious and economical way of expressing the facts.

Enthused by Sunday's Duathlon, I wonder what to do next to top it. I'm not going to say 'don't read anything into this' because L always does but oh, to be fit enough for the longer version, the Ashbourne Duathlon, which is ran on practically the same course. The bike course has a bit extra tacked on to make it up to 40k and the first run is a full lap of the reservoir, which sounds pleasant until you realise that it's 12k.

It's on the 25th April next year, or something like that, I haven’t looked obviously. L offers to put it in her diary, as a kind of sadistic birthday treat for me. Of course, I would need to improve my fitness, get a new bike and perhaps a new right knee... however, never say no, but don’t read...

I drop off L and Daughter, who is still huffing and puffing over the injustices of life, over at L parents. Along with MD, because they can’t bear to be parted from him, and he selflessly provides the entertainment for the evening. Whilst I head off to relative sanity of dog class with dog number one.

Son is out on another eighteenth birthday bash and wearing a suit, albeit with trainers. If he's not careful, he might pull something.

More worrying is that there were eleven of them on this bash and the parents of the lad, whose birthday it was, paid for everything. So although we're keen for Son to become a socialite perhaps it would be better if he kept his circle of friends nice and small, at least until after his birthday.