Uncut Hovis

I run in to work and for some inexplicable reason I record a new PB. I'm not sure how I explain that after three days on the trot cycling. Knackered now though.

L's back on a diet because she reckons she's beginning to look like a loaf of uncut Hovis. Which sounds like heaven, if you're MD. He loves a bit of Hovis.

Personally, I'm on the unintentional diet. Basically, on Monday, I managed to stock up on enough lunch stuff for four days but then forgot that I needed lunch for the fifth day, today. So I miss the Oggy van and naturally none of the later vans turned up. This wasn't part of my training plan. I could have walked to Sainsbury’s, but couldn’t be bothered, probably because I was feeling too weak.

Luckily, one of the sales staff here had fallen for one of those BOGOF offers on bags of oranges and was handing them out all day because they were starting to go manky. I had three. So staying alive, just.

L gets a starving man very excited, which is easily done I know. She consults Jamie Oliver and informs me it's either chicken fajitas or spicy Moroccan fish & couscous for tea. The fish sounds wonderful, but I'm sorry Jamie we don’t have any in and we don't have any wraps for chicken fajitas either. So the offer changes to slag and B&J instead. Which isn't as exciting as it sounds, as she means pasta and sausage followed by Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Not that we have any ice cream.

In the evening, now that the landlord and the pub dog at our local have been liquidated, well, sent to Clifton, we feel sufficiently brave to take MD down there for a few Supremes. As I owe L the equivalent of a round of bottled drinks at Broadway (a lot) and a theatre ticket (quite a bit), the night's on me.