For the second time in 24 hours, I find myself lying in a pool of blood. This is because, overnight, I seem to have bled all over the pillow. No worries, MD soon licks it all up. Gross creature. At least the swelling has gone down; it has now been replaced by a rather tasteful bluey blackness.
I can't let such a little mishap, like last night's, prevent me getting on the bike this morning, after all, it's the first chance I've had all week.
L goes out with the dogs as normal but comes back almost immediately to catch me before I leave with a gloomy warning about the ice. Poor little MD couldn't keep his paws under control on the slippery ground. Hmmm, well MD can't keep his paws under control at the best of times but all the same, I promise to be careful, as always.
I wheel my bike outside and whoops, blimey it is icy but I'm sure the main roads will be fine. Thankfully they are. Although I'm a little worried about some of the side roads, which I usually take shortcuts down but they're fine too.
At work, I get the predictable 'what does the other guy look like', 'hope she was worth it' etc etc, well from those who don't think it's a frying pan mark. It was a squash racquet ok. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Did I expect sympathy? Well no and I got what I expected, none whatsoever.
L promises to experiment on me tonight; something called Hollywog or was it Hollygog pudding. I'm not too sure which but it’s still a rather dubious name. It's also odd that's there's such a treat on offer at all because there's not even a 10k in sight.
It's from a new book about puddings that she's discovered. She is so well read. It's treacle sponge baked in custard. As ever, she's free to experiment on me as such as she likes.
I cycle home and then we tuck into L's feast with pudding. Then we take the boys down the Plough where I'm that fully of Hollywhatever that I can only manage two pints.
We come home early, much to L's surprise. Another surprise is that we’re home before Son. Who's gone out with some mates straight from college. In fact, he doesn't come home at all and crashes at someone else's house. This is almost rebellious but L, the overbearing mother, doesn't look fazed, even though he could be being led badly astray in some den of inequity. Lucky blighter.